As the school term drew to a close, time seemed to drag on slower than ever.
Many students were literally counting the days until they could finally go home.
"Wait… hold on," a boy muttered, staring at his fingers.
"I swear, the last time I counted, there were six days left until the holidays. But now, I counted again, and it's still six days! What's going on?!"
The student next to him rolled his eyes.
"Dude. You counted this morning—at breakfast. And not just once. I'd say you counted at least ten times."
The first boy paused.
"Oh… Really?" he chuckled awkwardly.
Both boys sighed at the same time.
"Ugh. Why is time moving so slowly?"
In the Great Hall
Harry sat at the long Gryffindor table, engrossed in a thick book he had borrowed from the library.
Several other books lay scattered across the table.
Hermione, walking past, glanced at the titles—
The Dragons of Great Britain and Ireland
From Egg to Nirvana
A Guide to Raising Dragons
Dragons: For Leisure and Profit
Those Who Pamper Dragons
Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"You've been reading a lot about dragons lately," she said. "Why?"
Harry sighed, closed his eyes, and massaged his temples.
"I'm trying to figure out," he said slowly, "how to get a baby dragon to recognize me as its master."
Hermione's confusion deepened.
"Wait… What?"
Harry didn't look up.
"Hagrid," he explained, "is about to get his hands on a dragon egg."
Hermione's eyes widened.
"Wait—WHAT?! But dragons are illegal!"
Harry nodded.
"Exactly. Which means the Ministry is going to confiscate it sooner or later. Hagrid won't be able to keep it."
"But," Harry grinned, "if I can make sure the baby dragon recognizes me as its master before that happens—"
Hermione's jaw dropped.
"Then even if it gets taken away... it'll still be yours."
Harry smirked.
"Could anything be more exciting than having a pet dragon?"
His eyes gleamed.
Hermione pressed her palms to her temples.
"I really don't know why you're doing this," she muttered.
"Well?" she asked, reluctantly intrigued. "Did you find a way?"
"Yep," Harry sighed tiredly.
"So why are you still reading then?"
Harry let his head drop onto the table.
"Page 348," he muttered.
"Check for yourself."
Curious, Hermione picked up From Egg to Nirvana, flipping to the page he mentioned.
At first, it seemed promising—
But the further she read, the more she understood why Harry had given up on it.
The method…
It required dark magic.
It also involved a disturbing mix of bizarre, rare ingredients.
Hermione shuddered.
"I... see," she muttered.
"Yeah," Harry groaned.
He buried his face in his sleeves.
"So much for that idea."
The worst-case scenario?
The baby dragon… could liquefy into blood while still inside its egg.
Hermione snapped the book shut.
"I honestly don't know why you're even looking into this," she said, exasperated.
"Let me guess—you're about to say, 'You'll find out later.'"
Harry grinned sheepishly.
Hermione rolled her eyes.
Then, she pointed at another book on the table—one that had absolutely nothing to do with dragons.
It was the only outlier in the pile.
A massive book, its dark cover featuring a terrifying creature with bulging, glowing red eyes and an unsettling snarl.
The title?
"The Habits of Three-Headed Dogs."
Even though it was just a picture, the sheer ferocity in the creature's expression made Hermione uneasy.
She quickly looked away.
Harry, noticing her discomfort, chuckled to himself.
"Yeah… guess creatures like this aren't really your thing."
Hermione crossed her arms.
"And why exactly are you reading about three-headed dogs?"
Harry leaned back in his chair.
"I wanted to see if there was any truth to the rumor that a three-headed dog will fall asleep when it hears music."
Hermione snorted.
"Oh, please. You do realize we're talking about a Hell Three-Headed Dog, right? Where did you even hear such nonsense?"
Harry smirked.
"You never know. Some three-headed dogs might actually work that way."
Hermione laughed.
"Sure, Harry. Why don't you show me a three-headed dog like that?"
Harry's expression suddenly darkened.
His voice turned low and eerie.
"Actually…" he whispered, leaning in close.
"I heard from the Hogwarts ghosts that… deep inside the castle, in a pitch-black room, there's a massive, red-eyed three-headed beast—a Hell Three-Headed Dog.
"Every night, when the halls are silent… it emerges… to hunt.
"Each day, it needs at least five students to satisfy its hunger."
Hermione froze, her face paling.
"But," Harry continued, his voice almost a sinister whisper,
"It's ferocious… but it listens to its master's voice.
"Because as soon as its master sings…
"It… quiets down."
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, trembling.
For a moment, it felt like there was a massive beast crouched right in front of her.
Then—
"HAHAHAHA!"
Harry's laughter echoed through the Great Hall.
Realization dawned on Hermione.
She had actually fallen for it.
Her face turned red—equal parts embarrassment and anger.
"You little—!"
She grabbed the closest book and hurled it at Harry.
Harry dodged, laughing harder.
Hermione huffed.
"Ugh! You're insufferable!"
And with that, she stormed off, eager to escape the scene of her humiliation.
After finishing his research, Harry had to admit—
His original plan? Way too optimistic.
There was no magical shortcut to forming a deep connection with a dragon.
The only way to bond with one…
Was to raise it.
Only through constant interaction and trust-building could a dragon learn to recognize and follow a human.
But time—
Time was the one thing Harry didn't have.
Still…
Giving up?
Not a chance.
This was a dragon we were talking about.
No way was he letting this slip away.
As he made his way to the library to return the books,
His mind raced—
Desperately searching for another way.
The cold wind whistled through the corridors, carrying tiny snowflakes that brushed against Harry's face.
Just then—
Harry suddenly noticed the snow in the courtyard shifting.
He blinked.
Was he seeing things?
He focused his gaze.
Sure enough—
A heap of snow swiftly slid across the yard.
Harry's eyes widened.
It turned out to be Little Cutie.
Because of its pure white fur, it had blended in perfectly with the snow—making it nearly invisible.
The little feline rolled in the snow, chasing its own tail in playful circles.
Its sky-blue eyes sparkled, wide and bright, standing out against the vast, endless white of the snow-covered ground.
Harry stepped forward, his boots crunching against the snow.
Little Cutie perked up immediately at the sound.
Its tiny body tensed—alert, on guard.
But the moment it saw Harry—
It shook off the snow, let out a soft, affectionate meow, and dashed over to his feet, rubbing its small head against his leg.
Harry couldn't help but smile at the adorable sight.
Scooping up the tiny cat, he gently tapped its head, chuckling—
"Always showing off how cute you are, huh?"
"Meow~"
Little Cutie purred sweetly, finding the perfect position to snuggle into Harry's arms, curling up comfortably.
And so, Harry walked through the castle, Little Cutie nestled in his embrace.
All along the way—
Countless girls' eyes lit up at the sight, their hearts practically bursting from the sheer cuteness.
Inside the library, Harry made his way to Madam Pince.
"I'm just here to return these," he said.
The librarian nodded, marking down the records.
With that done, Harry took the books and headed toward the shelves, returning each one to its proper place.
Then—
He saw her.
She stood quietly before a tall bookshelf, her delicate fingers gliding along the spines of the books as she carefully scanned for the one she wanted.
She was completely absorbed in her search—so much so that, even with Harry standing right beside her, she didn't seem to notice him at all.
It was…
Exactly like the first time they met.
Seeing Cho Chang again, Harry felt a strange sense of joy.
To him, she felt so familiar—
But that was just his perspective.
In reality, they barely knew each other.
They had hardly spoken at all.
The only true interaction between them…
Was when Harry had caught her in his arms.
Now, standing there, he suddenly realized—
He had no idea what to say.