April blew by, blustery, damp and grey; inside the castle, the children stared outside mournfully, as rain pattered on the window panes, sighed, and turned back to their school-work, wondering if the summer would ever come.

However, there were a few rays of sunlight. At the start of the month, Harry’s End of Term Report was given to Severus, which was a special occasion for both father and son as, for Severus, it was a first time he received his son’s School Report and, for Harry, he had the delight of sharing his success with a parent. In previous years, the delivery of his School Reports had always been a fraught time for Harry; as it was almost impossible not to do rather better than Dudley, the Report ensured Petunia’s spite and, even though Vernon did his best, he would always look a little sad when he congratulated him. Now, however, Harry had a proud father to please with his success and the line of plump ‘Os’, freckled with the occasional ‘E’ and, the worst blemish of all, Quirrell’s ‘A’, was regarded by Severus with a satisfaction which made Harry feel warm inside. When his father picked up his quill and replaced the embarrassing ‘A’ with an ‘O’, Harry’s happiness was complete.

The second happy event was in the penultimate week, when Hagrid’s dragon hatched. Professor Kettleburn, who was very much of Hagrid’s opinion that a hatching dragon egg was a far more important event than any lesson, begged Professors Sprout, Binns and Snape to allow their respective students the period off and, after a few murmurs and wearied head-shaking from the teachers, Professor Kettleburn accompanied the Slytherin first years, Marcus Flint, Neville, Fred, George and Ron to Hagrid’s hut.

As soon as they knocked on the door, Hagrid flung it open, grinning wildly and flushed with excitement.

“Come in, come in” the large man beamed “Yeh all in the nick of time!”

The children gathered around the table, on which the egg was lying, surrounded by a wall of damp, rolled up tea towels. Every now and again, the egg rocked a little, bumping into the cloths.

“What’s that scratching sound” Ron asked, leaning closer. Draco harrumphed and crossed his arms.

“The lil-le dragon’s eager to come out, Ron” Hagrid explained kindly “Ee’s peckin’ at the inner of ‘is egg.”

“Yes, indeed!” cried Professor Kettleburn, his wooden leg tapping against the floor as he bounced on his remaining toes “The dragonet uses it’s wing-spars and beak to erode the egg, thus creating fault-lines and, ultimately, weakening the overall structure. This enables the dragonet to break the egg using the strength of it’s shoulders and wings.”

Hagrid nodded happily “I’m righ’ pleased you’re here, Silvanus. You know how to explain things right enough.”

The elderly professor smiled “A lifetime of teaching, my boy. All one really needs is enthusiasm for one’s subject and a sense of humour, the rest comes in time.” he added kindly.

“Look, Hagrid” cried Hermione “A crack!”

“Ah! He’s really coming, he is!” gasped Hagrid, twinkling away a tear.

The children watched the egg with wide eyes and bated breath. Slowly, cracks started to form and the scratching and rocking became more vigorous.

Marcus Flint grinned at Pansy and Tracy, who were beginning to look rather bored “This ere is much more interestin’ than watchin’ sheep lambin’” he smirked “At least we can see what’s going on.” Milly, whose mother bred kneazles, nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, poor li-il thing’s gonna be righ’ tired by the end of it. It’s a hard business, being born” said Hagrid.

“But… it’s natural” said Pansy, in a scandalised voice.

“So is starving to death, dear girl” Professor Kettleburn said sagely “Nature is neither sweet nor gentle, which is why we live in houses rather than trees and farm rather than forage.”

Suddenly, the egg stopped moving and the scraping ceased. Hagrid clasped the back of a chair, staring at the egg with concerned eyes.

“He’s probably just taking a rest, Hagrid” Blaise soothed “Snakes sometimes need to rest during their hatching.”

“And dragons and snakes are close relatives” piped up Hermione.

Hagrid nodded, his eyes fixed on the egg, willing it to start moving again. After ten minutes, there was a crunch as the chair crumpled under his fingers.

There was a sharp tap and the egg started rocking again.

Hagrid sighed in relief “I thought…” he choked.

Harry patted Hagrid’s arm, nodding empathically. Hagrid was longing for his dragonet to arrive and, naturally, the hope and fear were more or less equal.

After twenty minutes of determined rocking, tapping and scraping, the egg suddenly split open and a small, leathery little dragon flopped onto the table. Although not exactly pretty, the dragonet was sweet, in a rather comical way: with his small, thin body, the dragon’s large, crumpled black wings looked as out of proportion as his tiny, angular head made the wide, round nostrils and bulbous, orange eyes. Wearily, the dragon looked around the assembled humans and sneezed, sparks flying out of his nostrils.

“Isn’ he beautiful” sighed Hagrid, reaching out to the tiny reptile.

“Hagrid, I think this little one would appreciate a meal.” Professor Kettleburn said quietly.

“Ah, yes, yeh, righ’” Hagrid beamed “Forget me own head”

“Watching a dragon hatch is an exciting time, indeed.” nodded Professor Kettleburn kindly.

Hagrid walked over to his larder and pulled out a bottle of reddish liquid. He filled a leather bottle and tentatively offered the lip of it to the little dragon, who, after sniffing cautiously at his hand, lapped at the liquid and, licking his lips, began to suckle happily.

“Aww, he likes it!”

"What is that stuff, Hagrid!" Theo asked curiously.

"Brandy and chicken blood, good feed for li-il dragons." Hagrid grinned.

“Indeed.” Professor Kettleburn beamed, ignoring repulsed expressions which many of those present wore. “Now, children, it is time for us to return for lunch.”

“Aww, Professor!” Draco and Ron moaned in unison, then looked rather embarrassed.

“Hagrid must have time to bond with his dragon.” Professor Kettleburn said firmly. “Chop chop, or you won’t get any dessert.”

oOoOo

Over the next few weeks, Hagrid’s relationship with his dragonet flourished. The little reptile had readily accepted Hagrid as his parent and, although misunderstandings did happen, they were few and far between. Hagrid glowed with pride, believing that, under Professor Kettleburn’s steady guidance, he was rearing the best behaved little dragon in the whole of Scotland. Severus, naturally, saw no need to dim Hagrid’s joy by telling him that the young dragon was under the guidance of a Parselmouth.

Thus, the only hiccough was over the dragonet’s name; Hagrid, thinking his Norwegian Ridgeback was a male, had named him Norbert, much to Draco’s despair and Pansy’s amusement. However, when Mr MacFusty visited, Norbert was discovered to be a female, necessitating a swift change of name. Daphne, with more kindness than accuracy, suggested Belinda, which meant ‘beautiful dragon’; Hagrid, delighted, immediately renamed his ‘daughter’ and boasted to all who would listen about how well it suited her. The young Slytherins were amused and somewhat relieved; ‘Belinda’ might suggest rosy cheeks, blue eyes and flaxen bunches, but it was a far more fitting name for a regal dragon than ‘Norbert’!