Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Maybe it was because the dragon eggshells were harder than normal—even with visible cracks, they showed no signs of actually breaking open.

Newt placed the eggs into a strange-looking crate. The bottom had been replaced with a cross-patterned metal mesh, and from time to time, he had Norbert breathe fire across it to keep the eggs heated.

Kyle watched the scene and couldn't shake a feeling of familiarity—as if something was missing.

Like... cumin and chili powder, maybe.

If Newt started brushing oil over the shells, he'd look exactly like a seasoned grill master.

Just as the thought crossed Kyle's mind, Newt actually pulled out a brush.

Of course, he wasn't hungry and planning to roast himself a snack—and what was on the brush wasn't oil, but a mixture of sap extracted from Bubotuber tubers and Mimbulus mimbletonia flowers.

According to Newt, the substance helped distribute the flame more evenly across the shell, making it easier for the dragons inside to hatch.

Newt stayed crouched beside them the entire night. It wasn't until morning that two fist-sized baby dragons finally broke through their shells and crawled out.

"See? They're perfectly healthy, aren't they?" Newt said with a smile as he tried to pick them up.

But the little ones—still with their eyes shut—instinctively avoided him, wobbling forward instead... toward Kyle. No—toward Norbert, standing behind him.

To be honest, it was Kyle's first time ever seeing such clear fear on a dragon's face, laced with outright panic.

It was as if the tiny dragons coming toward Norbert weren't hatchlings at all, but two towering Hungarian Horntails a hundred feet tall.

Norbert shrank back in alarm. In her rush, she knocked over several things along the way, turning the room into a complete mess.

Then, without a second's hesitation, she took off—vanishing into the sky in a blink, leaving the two hatchlings behind, squealing anxiously.

"They must've gotten used to Norbert's flames and started treating her as their mother," Newt said with a shake of his head. "But dragons are smart. It won't take long for them to realize they're not the same species as a Norwegian Ridgeback."

Kyle reached out and gently touched the slightly larger Ukrainian Ironbelly.

"So what do I feed them—chicken blood and brandy?" he asked.

"I'm guessing you've read How to Tame Your Dragon," Newt replied. "That diet actually does work for young dragons, but honestly, it's a bit outdated.

"And realistically, dragons don't often find whole barrels of brandy lying around in the forest or hanging off a cliff."

"So what do I need to prepare?" Kyle asked.

"Normally, the adult will crush flame stones and mix them with meat to feed their young," Newt explained.

Flame stones—also called firestones—were basically rocks from a dragon's nest that had been repeatedly scorched, melted, and hardened by dragonfire over time.

These special stones, once exposed to flame, could radiate intense heat continuously. Fire dragons loved them. The more flame stones in a nest, the stronger the dragon that lived there was considered to be.

Kind of like how Galleons measured status among wizards.

They sounded impressive, but wizards didn't have much use for them. Only a few obscure alchemical techniques ever called for them.

Flame stones, huh...

Kyle thought back. He was pretty sure there were some in Norbert's cave—he'd noticed them when he went in to drop off gold coins.

"I'll go grab them now. Not sure if I have enough, though," Kyle said, turning to leave.

"No rush," Newt stopped him with a smile. "If you take Norbert's flame stones, she might get grumpy. We've got a better alternative anyway."

"Oh? What is it?"

"The best option is to mix in some Ashwinder eggs. They help dragons mature faster," Newt said, thinking aloud. "If those aren't available, Salamander tails and Fire Crab shells will work too."

"Hmm..." Kyle opened his mouth, then hesitated.

He didn't have any of that. Salamander tails, maybe, but the other two were a nightmare to find.

He looked at Newt and blinked with a grin.

"Don't give me that look," Newt said, heart sinking. "They're your dragons. And the Dragon Reserve has all this stuff—you can just bring your contract. Doesn't it say right there? They'll cover all your dragon-rearing expenses."

"But the contract doesn't activate yet," Kyle said, still smiling. "And it only covers the other two dragons. These two aren't included."

"Then buy it yourself," Newt said. "You're not broke, are you?"

"I am now," Kyle sighed. "I've only got a little over a thousand Galleons left. I'm still trying to open a shop."

"Besides, you hatched them. You can't just abandon them, right?"

Newt's mouth fell open.

Now he understood Kyle's real reason for showing up.

So that's what this was—he'd turned Newt's place into a dragon cafeteria?

But when he looked at Kyle's shameless grin, and considered how curious he was about these two dragons, Newt couldn't bring himself to say no.

Hearing the answer he'd hoped for, Kyle burst out laughing.

Newt let out a long, quiet sigh.

Raising a dragon wasn't cheap. They could grow dozens of feet tall—and all of that size came from eating. Especially when they were young.

They had to grow fast, develop tougher scales, and store dragonfire in their bellies. Their bodies were like bottomless pits, either eating or looking for the next thing to eat.

Newt still remembered the first dragon he ever raised. Back then, he could barely afford to eat—there was a time when he survived for two days on nothing but a piece of dry bread soaked in water.

While things were obviously different now, the experience had left its mark. And this time, he wasn't raising just one dragon, but two—one of which was an Ironbelly, a species known for its enormous appetite even among dragons.

It got its name from its iron-like stomach—able to eat massive amounts and digest them quickly. Even newly hatched, an Ironbelly could finish off an entire cow leg larger than itself.

Of course, it wasn't the feeding that pained Newt—it was the thought of parting with all those Ashwinder eggs and Salamander tails he had painstakingly collected.

Two dragons... how much would they eat?

Newt found himself calculating whether he should sneak into the Horntail's nest one night and knock loose a few flame stones.

He figured he'd raise the Romanian Longhorn with a bit more care, and as for the Ironbelly... no amount of good food would satisfy that beast. Better to just increase the quantity and leave it at that.

Newt sighed inwardly.

Meanwhile, Kyle was feeling much more at ease.

Just to be clear—he absolutely wasn't treating Newt like a free meal plan. His main concern was that he might not be able to take care of the hatchlings properly.

That's right—purely a matter of responsibility.

Saving money wasn't the goal. That was just a pleasant side effect.

And the reason he'd been smiling? He was thinking about something exciting—he was finally going to have a shop of his own, and with the money he'd saved, he could even buy a few nice shelves. Of course he was happy.

"Um, I've got another question..." Kyle said after a moment of thought. "If the Time-Turner caused the dragons to hatch early, would it also affect other magical creatures?"

"I understand," Newt said, giving Kyle a long look. "I'll go check on that in a bit."

"Thanks—I really appreciate it," Kyle said sincerely.

"But I have a request of my own," Newt added.

"Say no more—ten requests, even, I've got you covered," Kyle said, patting his chest.

And he meant it. Even without this favor, if Newt ever asked for help, he wouldn't turn him down.

"Just one will do." Newt's gaze shifted to the parchment bearing Bergman's signature. "You're supposed to receive two more dragon eggs from the reserve, right? I hope you'll ask for a Chinese Fireball."

The Chinese Fireball, also known as a Lion Dragon, was a species native to the East. They were rare in Europe—Kyle only knew of one or two in the Romanian Dragon Reserve.

"Why?" Kyle asked, curious.

"Because out of all the dragons we know, the Chinese Fireball is the one I understand the least," Newt replied. "I've always wanted to expand the section on it in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, but I've never had the opportunity."

"Really? That's surprising," Kyle said with a frown. "They're only rare in Europe, right? If you want to study them, why not go to their native region? You even have a Zouwu."

"It's not that simple," Newt said, face reddening slightly in embarrassment. "Due to... certain circumstances—which I can't go into—I haven't really been welcome there since a particular incident."

"Oh. Got it." Kyle nodded. Seeing the awkward look on Newt's face, he decided not to press.

Besides, Newt had already been blacklisted by nearly every country. Not being able to travel there wasn't exactly surprising.

"There's no problem on my end," Kyle said after a moment of thought. "But I can't guarantee the Dragon Reserve will go for it. The contract just says they'll give me two dragon eggs. It doesn't say I get to choose."

"Don't worry about that," Newt said. "I'll go with you when the time comes. Leave the rest to me."

"Then we're all set," Kyle said, nodding.

...

Over the next few days, Newt spent most of his time inside Kyle's suitcase. While caring for the baby dragons, he also took the opportunity to observe the other magical creatures... and ultimately concluded that none of them had been affected by the Time-Turner.

"Maybe it's because they're considered part of you—they went through the full cycle of traveling back and returning,"

Newt explained one evening over dinner. "Only the dragon eggs are an exception. They only went through half the journey."

"Of course, that's just my theory. The real reason probably only those who study Time-Turners could explain properly. Why don't you ask Diana?"

"You mean my mum?" Kyle shuddered. "If she finds out I brought home two dragons, she'll kill me—and my dad too."

"What does Chris have to do with it?"

"Well, I've got to drag someone down with me, right?" Kyle shrugged. "I might stand a better chance of surviving. Getting half-beaten is better than being beaten to death."

Newt's mouth twitched slightly as he gave Kyle a silent look. "Does Chris know?"

"No, and he doesn't need to," Kyle said calmly, taking a bite of roast. "If the roles were reversed, he wouldn't spare me either."

"I still remember when we were kids—he and Mr. Weasley got drunk and stomped all over the hydrangeas Mum planted by the door."

"He said it was you?"

"Not exactly," Kyle shook his head. "But he tricked me into going over, then saved my shoes—with petals still stuck on them—as 'evidence.'"

"Right..." Newt quietly closed his mouth and said no more.

...

A few more days passed, and Kyle began to feel bored. Newt had taken over all the responsibilities of raising the dragons, leaving Kyle with nothing to do.

He thought about helping out in Newt's suitcase, but Dobby—now far more experienced—had already taken care of everything. Meanwhile, Kyle kept hearing a series of eerie, mournful wails from the small island in the middle of the lake. At night, they were downright creepy.

Kyle remembered that the island was Hungarian Horntail territory. He was curious about what was going on, but without Newt by his side, he didn't dare to investigate.

After all, Hungarian Horntails were infamous for their temper, and Kyle still carried the scent of other dragons. If he went over uninvited, he'd probably be seen as a threat.

To give himself something to do, Kyle walked out the door after breakfast one morning.

"Mr. Kyle, where are you going..." Dobby rushed up to ask.

"I'm heading to Diagon Alley," Kyle replied. "There's an empty shop that needs cleaning."

"Cleaning?"

Kyle wasn't sure if he imagined it, but Dobby's eyes suddenly lit up.

"Dobby will go with you, sir!"

"No need," Kyle waved him off. "It's just cleaning. Don't you still have a lot of work?"

Since Newt had started looking after the two little ones, all the other tasks in the suitcase—feeding, cleaning, settling disputes—had fallen to Dobby, who was now busy every single day.

"It's all right. Mr. Scamander said he's heading back for a bit today. Dobby has time to go help Mr. Kyle clean."

"Well... all right then," Kyle said, after a moment's thought. He figured bringing a house-elf along wouldn't hurt.

"I'll pay you for your work."

"So generous!" Dobby immediately burst into tears, sobbing, "Mr. Kyle is actually offering to pay Dobby wages!"

"But I can't accept, sir," Dobby said, blinking up at him with wide, red-rimmed eyes. "Dobby is helping you, not working. He cannot accept wages."

"Then let me buy you some ice cream. How about hazelnut and peanut?"

Predictably, Dobby cried again. His tears soaked into his denim clothes, leaving uneven dark patches like he'd just walked through a rainstorm.

Kyle really didn't get it. Dobby had been here so long, yet his personality hadn't changed one bit.

After finally calming the emotional house-elf, they arrived in Diagon Alley.

Kyle opened the door with his magical contract and stepped inside—only to be hit by a pungent, foul smell.

He immediately cast a Bubble-Head Charm to block it.

He was going to cast one on Dobby too, but the elf shook his head, signaling that he didn't need it. Kyle didn't insist. Instead, he cast a Ventus Charm to air the place out and got started with the cleanup.

...

Bringing Dobby turned out to be a brilliant decision.

As the saying goes—let professionals do what they do best. When it came to cleaning, house-elves were leagues ahead of wizards. Kyle had barely cleared a corner when Dobby had already cleaned half the room. He even fished out every last Doxy from the crevices and carefully tossed them into a basket.

"Lots of little creatures love to eat Doxies. This should be enough for a full meal," Dobby explained.

"You really didn't come for nothing," Kyle said, watching him gently cover the basket with a lid.

And Dobby was right. While Doxies were toxic, that poison didn't affect some magical creatures—in fact, it added a certain unique flavor. Like a spice, really. As snacks, they weren't bad at all.

With Dobby's help, the cleaning was quickly finished. The once-dusty, filthy shop looked completely different—so clean it seemed freshly scrubbed, even the colors looked brighter.

True to his word, Kyle bought Dobby a large, deluxe ice cream—loaded with every kind of nut topping available.

The little elf cried again from sheer joy.

Next came setting up the shop, but there was no rush. One shelf today, a table tomorrow—it was a great way to pass the time.

Meanwhile, the two baby dragons had grown dramatically... No, they couldn't even be called hatchlings anymore. Especially the Ironbelly—it was like someone had pumped it full of air, growing larger by the day. It already stood taller than Kyle, and if it pounced, it could easily knock him over.

A few more days passed, and still no news came from Dumbledore—but then, without warning, the magical contract on the parchment suddenly lit up.