Hogwarts' Golden Glory

Kane's fingertips lightly touched Norber's scales, which already gleamed with a metallic sheen.

The half-human-sized baby dragon immediately nuzzled his palm affectionately with its head.

"The dragon farms in Romania have special areas for Norwegian Spinosaurus," he said calmly, "where there are other Norwegian Spinosaurus like him to keep him company."

Hagrid crouched down, his rough, large hands barely covering Norber's now-grown head.

The hot breath exhaled by the young dragon could no longer move the last remaining bit of whiskers.

"It's still so small..."

Hagrid's voice was muffled inside his apron, "Just like when he was born yesterday..."

Draco suddenly pulled a thick book from the dragon-skin trunk.

The gilded title of "The Handbook for Raising Young Dragons" shimmered in the twilight.

He slammed the book onto Hagrid's palm, somewhat stiffly: "Revised edition. I've proofread all the data again."

The book automatically flipped to the corner, and Harry saw that the page was full of Draco's neat notes.

Even the title page reads:

"To Future Dragon Trainers - DM"

"This...this must be worth a lot of Galleons, right?"

Hagrid stammered as he touched the gilded pages of the book.

He doesn't have much money.

Draco turned his face away, his platinum hair obscuring his reddened ear tips: "Anyway... Father forbids me from studying these 'unorthodox subjects,' so consider this a gift to you."

The farewell by the cabin was unusually quiet. When they had walked about a hundred meters, Harry couldn't help but turn back—

Norber, who was half a person tall, was wrapping his tail around Hagrid's wrist.

She buried her head in his arms like she did when she was a child, unaware that she had already managed to knock the half-giant off balance.

Hagrid sat on an overturned barrel, flipping through Draco's book by the light from the window, occasionally wiping his eyes.

Harry suddenly stopped and turned to Kane: "Thank you for today... I mean, for Hagrid and Norbert."

"No need to thank me. I don't care, some people can't control themselves either, even if they'd breathe fire and burn your robes."

He glanced meaningfully at Draco's charred cuff.

"Kane, I remember Snape was your godfather."

Harry hesitated for a moment before asking the question that had been bothering him: "I don't understand... why would Professor Snape give me his Potions Notebook? He clearly hates me so much."

Kane chuckled softly, a silver light flashing at the tip of his wand, creating an icy mirror before him. "People are like this mirror, Potter."

He lightly tapped the tip of his cane, and hundreds of distorted Harrys were instantly reflected on the ice. "You can only ever see one side of the reflection."

The hundreds of Harrys in the ice mirror gradually disappeared.

Kane put away his wand, his voice lowering slightly: "Speaking of... Harry, you need to persuade Hagrid to get rid of Norbert as soon as possible."

Harry frowned. "But Hagrid loves it so much..."

"That's precisely why we must send them away."

Kane interrupted him, "Do you think the Ministry of Magic is just sitting around doing nothing?"

Harry was a little nervous: "But it's just a baby dragon..."

"It won't be like that in two weeks."

Kane calmly pointed out, "Norwegian dinosaurs suddenly tripled in size upon reaching sexual maturity."

"Imagine Norbert's fiery outburst during his heat cycle burning the Whomping Willow, or worse—injuring a student..."

Harry looked up abruptly, a flicker of fear crossing his green eyes.

"The Ministry of Magic will not give a second chance to a dragon that has hurt someone."

"They'll execute Norbert on the spot, and Hagrid..."

He paused, "Besides the crime of raising dragons, there's also Article 37 of the 'Regulations for the Management of Restricted Magical Creatures,' which states that intentionally raising dangerous creatures that cause injury or death is considered murder. He'll be facing Azkaban then."

"Azkaban?" Harry frowned in confusion. "What's that place?"

Draco crossed his arms, his tone serious yet calm: "That's no pleasant place. Our family went there for Christmas, and just seeing that island from afar is enough to terrify you."

He frowned slightly. "The entire prison is surrounded by Dementors; even seabirds deliberately avoid that area."

Harry didn't even know what a Dementor was at that moment, but he didn't ask any further questions.

You could tell from the smell that it wasn't anything good.

Kane continued, his voice steady: "According to the Wizarding Prison Administration Act, anyone imprisoned in Azkaban will be under the long-term supervision of Dementors. Do you know what that means?"

Harry shook his head.

"Even the happiest memories will be slowly sucked away." Kane's wand traced the image of a dim Dementor in the air.

"Someone as optimistic as Hagrid might forget how to laugh after spending a few months there."

"I understand, I'll try to talk to Hagrid." Harry already knew the seriousness of the situation.

He absolutely cannot let Hagrid go to that place.

After parting ways with Kane and Draco, Harry walked heavily down the dimly lit corridor, still pondering how to persuade Hagrid.

As Harry turned the corner, he nearly bumped into a tuft of fluffy brown curls—Hermione was carrying a stack of rickety ancient books and had dark circles under her eyes.

"Harry! I'm looking for you!"

She grabbed his sleeve, her voice barely audible, "I found out—Nico Lemaître wasn't just any ordinary wizard; he was the greatest alchemist of the Middle Ages!"

A thick book, "The Biography of the Greatest Figures in the History of Magic," slipped from her arms, its pages automatically turning to a certain point.

Harry saw a moving image: an old man with silver hair holding a red stone, the stone shimmering with an eerie blood-red light.

"He is the only known creator of the Philosopher's Stone!"

"The creator of the Philosopher's Stone..." Harry murmured.

"That's not all."

Hermione's fingers traced a yellowed inscription: "Flame is over six hundred years old, living on an elixir of immortality made from the Philosopher's Stone." Her voice trembled. "If someone wants to live forever..."

Harry immediately thought of Voldemort.

That's why Voldemort wanted the Philosopher's Stone.

Hermione got a little angry at this point, "I just remembered that Kane mentioned the other person's name in the alchemy he saw before, so he already knew who Nicholas Lemaire was! But he just wouldn't tell us."

Harry thought of Kane, the Slytherin who could tame young dragons and see through people's hearts. How many secrets did he still have hidden?

Kane, however, already has new plans.

During Hogwarts' curfew.

In the dimly lit corridor, Filch was gritting his teeth as he polished a brand-new set of shackles, the kerosene lamp casting two gloomy points of light in his cloudy eyes.

When Kane suddenly emerged from the shadows, the administrator was so startled he nearly knocked over the oil bottle.

"Master Malfoy?" Filch's voice was like a rusty door hinge. "It's curfew now—"

"I have a way to teach you magic." Kane's blunt words left Filch frozen in place.