Chapter 39
Changes were beginning to appear across Norma's body as well.
Something seemed to be swelling inside her long, slender neck, forming a rounded bulge that expanded and contracted with each breath, producing a hollow, resonant hum.
At the same time her eyes widened. She clawed frantically at her own throat, as though trying to dig out whatever was lodged inside.
Gray stopped her at once. With a swift flick of his wand he cast a Leg-Locker Curse, binding her forelegs firmly in place. Then he stepped forward, holding the fire-stone.
Sensing Gray's familiar magic, Norma forced herself to stop struggling, though her eyes brimmed with discomfort as she looked up at him pleadingly.
Gray reached out, gently pried her jaws open to reveal the rows of sharp, wicked teeth, and placed the fire-stone inside.
The stone was nowhere near as hard as the rock-skin biscuits she had been eating. With just a few powerful bites Norma reduced it to fragments and swallowed them down.
The moment the fire-stone entered her body, an intensely pungent smell of sulphur poured from her mouth. Thick black smoke began to curl from between her teeth, as though she had swallowed a lump of burning coal.
Through Gray's magical sight, the fragments of the fire-stone's magical circuits acted like a catalyst, stimulating Norma's fire glands and triggering the final stage of their development.
The circuits completed their formation and began to glow with a deep red light.
Gray quickly stepped back, pulling Hermione with him until they were both shielded behind Hagrid's massive frame, only their heads peeking out to watch.
Harry and Ron followed suit, ducking behind Hagrid as well. Hagrid himself raised his pink umbrella like a shield, as though ready to fend off whatever came next.
Norma's jaws parted wider. A faint red glow appeared deep in her throat—growing brighter, richer, hotter—until it erupted into true flame that burst from her mouth in a roaring jet, spraying outward in every direction.
Hagrid swung his umbrella in a wide arc and muttered a spell under his breath—so quietly that no one else caught the words.
The flames struck an invisible barrier just before they could touch the walls of the hut. The heat wave rolled outward, raising the temperature of the entire room in an instant.
Fortunately no real damage was done. Hagrid was, after all, a highly capable wizard; a single young dragon posed no serious threat to him or his home.
Ron and Harry stared in open awe, their faces clearly saying, "That was the coolest thing ever." Even Hermione couldn't tear her eyes away from the dragon on the table.
Gray watched too—but through his magical sight.
In that vision, Norma's body was undergoing dramatic transformation as she expelled the flame.
Countless magical circuits melted and fused together. Her life-force circuits, stimulated by the process, thickened noticeably and reached out to connect with the newly completed fire glands.
A thread of green light linked them, tinting half the fire-gland circuits red and half green.
At the very front—right at the point where the flame emerged—a brand-new magical circuit took shape.
It was strange and fluid, resembling drifting clouds, dissipating mist, or rising steam. It rippled and waved toward the direction of the flame, then spread outward like fireworks bursting in the sky.
Gray couldn't fully comprehend it, but he knew with absolute certainty: this was the final piece of the fire spell he had been seeking.
He pulled out the small notebook he kept hidden inside his robes and began sketching the circuit exactly as he saw it—along with the two previous patterns he had already recorded.
The first: like a dragon's spread wings and raised head, or perhaps the simplified outline of a dragon egg shaped like a crown.
The second: like swaying water plants, winding rivers, and layered feathers stirred by the wind—the pattern of hatching.
And now this third: drifting clouds, vanishing mist, rising vapour—the pattern of breathing fire.
Within these three diagrams lay the true magical circuit of the fire spell. But this was not the time to study it in depth, so Gray carefully tucked the notebook away.
At last Norma finished expelling everything from her throat. She turned her head toward Gray—still half-hidden behind Hagrid—and let out a low, pleased croon, almost like the contented rumble of a large frog.
Gray stepped out from cover and moved to her side. He stroked the top of her head in encouragement. Norma rubbed happily against his hand, exhaling a few small, cheerful bursts of flame that sparkled like miniature fireworks.
She had mastered the technique of breathing fire. She was no longer a hatchling; she had become a juvenile dragon.
"Did you see that, Harry?" Ron exclaimed, emerging from behind Hagrid. "She's still so small, and the flame was already that long!" He stretched out both arms wide to demonstrate.
"I saw it, Ron," Harry replied, equally stunned. He had never imagined a dragon so relatively small could produce such a thick, powerful jet of fire. If she grew much larger, she could probably burn a window-sized hole straight through Aunt Petunia's living-room wall.
"Too bad we can't take her outside," Ron said wistfully. "We could give Malfoy the fright of his life—maybe make him call for his daddy." He started snickering at the mental image.
"Don't even think about it," Hermione interrupted sharply, cutting off their daydreams. "That's never going to happen."
She turned to Gray. "In fact, we need to send her away as soon as possible. She's no longer a hatchling. Keeping her here any longer will be bad for her development."
Gray's hand paused on Norma's head. He looked down at her.
Norma gazed back with eyes that shimmered like sunrise on water. She nudged his hand gently with her snout, urging him to keep petting.
"Hermione, don't say that," Hagrid rumbled in a low voice. "She's still just a baby. If we let her go now she'll get eaten—or at the very least she'll have a miserable time of it."
"But she's a juvenile now, Hagrid," Hermione countered. "You can't keep her forever. Soon your hut won't even be big enough for her. Do you really want her to spend her days curled up in here, cramped and miserable?"
Hagrid scratched his head, blinking his black-beetle eyes. They looked dangerously close to tears. He turned to Gray.
"Gray… you don't think the same way, do you?"
Gray let out a long breath.
Honestly, he wanted to keep her. The time they had spent together might have been short, but the bond was real. And—let's be honest—having your own dragon was incredibly cool.
But Hermione was right. Norma was already a juvenile. They couldn't keep her much longer, and staying confined here wasn't good for her.
She needed open sky—room to spread her wings and truly fly.
"Hermione's right, Hagrid," Gray said quietly. "Think about Norbert—er, I mean, think about the story of the fat dragon that got too big for its home. Hermione's approach is the correct one."
"Fat dragon…?" Hagrid echoed, puzzled. Hermione looked equally confused.
But Ron suddenly let out a startled yelp.
"That's right! Norbert—the fat dragon! How did I forget about that?"
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