"It's logical. He's always had . . . a way with lesser creatures, even when he was Muggle Studies professor. I would not be surprised to find that the troll which 'got in' to Hogwarts on Halloween was actually 'let in' instead."
Ignoring Severus' last comment, Dumbledore said, "Logical, yes. That's your strong suit, isn't it? Logic?" Albus' words were seemingly careless, but Severus had learned over a very long twenty years that nothing Albus had to say had anything of carelessness about it. What did he mean? Was it merely a reference to his puzzle part in the set of traps to the Mirror? Or was it something deeper. Uglier.
Or something to do with Harry?
"Slytherin's last Quidditch match is coming up," Dumbledore offered into the silence following his last statement. He took up the ever-full container of lemon drops on his desk top and offered them to Severus before taking one for himself. Severus demurred, and Albus popped the sweet in his mouth. "I expect your Seeker will perform well."
"Yes," Severus agreed, letting none of his worry about the boy show. Nor any of his exasperation at being put off about Quirrell. Or so he thought.
"When was the last time you spoke to Quirinus about his . . . possible loyalties?"
Frowning, Severus said, "A month ago? Six weeks? I've no idea. Why? Do you have more information? Has he figured out a way to get past Fluffy?" It was the only trap he knew would give everyone but Hagrid trouble, and Hagrid would have trouble with all of the others, having little magic of his own anymore, and no wand.
"Not to my knowledge, dear boy. Not to my knowledge. But . . . I imagine you were circumspect enough at that meeting. Discreet, were you not? Gave no hint to Quirinus that you might be anything but a helpful pawn in his Lord's plans to return?"
"I . . ." His frown deepened. He had played his part well. What was Dumbledore getting at? He decided to ask. Perhaps, this once, Albus would give him a straight answer. "What are you talking about, Albus? Do you suspect Quirrell knows I'm not one of His agents anymore?"
Dumbledore smiled softly. "Not at all. I merely speculate that, to the untrained eye seeking knowledge, a conversation of that sort would terribly, mistakenly illuminating."
No. Not even this once.
TBC . . .
A/N: Thanks to everyone who reads and/or reviews! You're all made of awesomesauce!
Stay tuned for the next exciting episode, with Dragons and Draco and more hijinks than you can shake a stick at.
*Chapter 47*: Chapter 47
Better Be Slytherin! – Chapter 47
By jharad17
Warnings: None
--HPHPHPHPHPHPHP--
Previously on Better Be Slytherin:
What was Dumbledore getting at? He decided to ask. Perhaps, this once, Albus would give him a straight answer. "What are you talking about, Albus? Do you suspect Quirrell knows I'm not one of His agents anymore?"
Dumbledore smiled softly. "Not at all. I merely speculate that, to the untrained eye seeking knowledge, a conversation of that sort would terribly, mistakenly illuminating."
No. Not even this once.
--HPHPHPHPHPHPHP--
Harry stared at the black-shelled egg on Hagrid's table, watching it crack open even wider. The dragon egg was the most amazing thing he had ever seen, except maybe Quidditch or unicorns or the Mirror of Erised, and he was almost as excited as Hagrid, who was clapping his big hands together, his face lit with joy.
"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" said Teddy, cocking his head to the side as he did when he was thinking deeply. "It must've cost you a fortune."
"Won it," said Hagrid. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."
"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" said Millie.
"Well, I've bin doin' some readin'," said Hagrid, pulling a large book from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library -- Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit -- it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on 'em, see, an' when it hatches, like it's 'bout ter now, ye feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here -- how ter recognize diff'rent eggs -- what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."
He looked very pleased with himself, but Teddy didn't. "Hagrid, you live in a wooden house," he said.
Hagrid happily ignored him as a bit of shell fell off, followed by a gout of flame from within the egg three inches high.
All at once there was a scraping noise and the egg split open. The baby dragon flopped onto the table. It wasn't exactly pretty; Harry thought it looked like a crumpled, black umbrella. Its spiny wings were huge compared to its skinny jet body. It had a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.
It sneezed. A couple of sparks flew out of its snout.
"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid murmured. He reached out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. It snapped at his fingers, showing pointed fangs. "Bless him, look, he knows his mommy!" said Hagrid as he reached for the bucket of chicken blood and brandy.
The dragon sank its snout into the mixture, and loud slurping sounds came from within the bucket. "Do you see that?" Millie exclaimed. "It's so cute!"
Harry didn't know about cute, but the baby dragon was certainly interesting. And a bit frightening to tell the truth. Yet he and Teddy merely nodded, going along. Suddenly, the baby dragon reared up out of the bucket, snout covered with blood and flapping its wings as if it had seen something. Harry turned in time to catch a glimpse of a face at the window, one topped with red hair. Weasley!
Harry darted out the door in time to catch the boy before he'd gotten far. "Ron, wait! Please!"
Ron Weasley turned, looking pale in the early evening gloom. "That's a dragon, that is. They're not allowed."
"Really? Hagrid didn't say." He gestured at the door. "Do you wanna see it? It's just hatched."
Curiosity warred with indignation on the Gryffindor's face.
"C'mon," Harry wheedled. "It's really neat."
"All right," Ron gave in. "Where did Hagrid get a dragon egg anyway?" he asked as they went inside. "They're supposed to be illegal."
"Ah, well," Hagrid said, seeing their newest guest. "That's what I tol' the stranger las' night. He din't take it well, but he 'greed I could take the egg off his hands." He grinned happily at the little creature, who promptly bit his thumb. "Isn't he lovely? I think I'll call him Norbert."
Hagrid spent the next few minutes feeding the dragon the bucket of blood and brandy, then trying to soothe the dragon from a case of indigestion, complete with bursts of alcohol-tinged flame.
"Maybe music'll work on little Norbert. Does wonders for Fluffy, it does."
Harry plucked the flute Hagrid had given him for Christmas out of his back pocket, where he sometimes kept it, so he could play it when his spirits needed a lift. But when Harry put it to his lips and blew a few practice notes, the dragon tried to bite it and wrench it from his grasp. Harry managed to keep hold of his flute, but he put it away rather than try again. "I don't think music will work this time, Hagrid."
"Guess, not."
Later, as the four students made their way back up to the castle, Ron said, "Hagrid could get into serious trouble, you know. Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It's hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden, and anyway, you can't tame dragons. It's dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie's got off wild ones in Romania."