HP: The Necromancer

Hagrid burst into the hut, his face flushed. "Norbert, Henry, I—" He stopped abruptly, staring at the strange, writhing mass of fabric on the dining table. "What in Merlin's name is that, Henry?"

He was referring to the tattered black cloth that the little dragon had buried itself in. Norbert was wriggling around inside, biting and tearing at the fabric, whimpering with excitement. Only his jet-black tail stuck out, almost blending into the remains of Anthony's once-pristine robe.

"That," Anthony said dryly, "was my robe… about half an hour ago."

"Norbert, Norbert," Hagrid called softly, closing the door behind him. "Come on out, you little menace. Give Henry back his robe."

Norbert snorted loudly in response.

A small puff of smoke suddenly billowed from within the fabric, and when it cleared, Norbert's thin snout poked out through a freshly burned hole. He bared a row of tiny, sharp white teeth at Hagrid and Anthony, a clear warning not to interfere.

"No, Norbert," Hagrid scolded. "Those aren't your robes. Do you like clothes, then? I've got—" He glanced around the hut, searching for something to offer as a substitute. But there weren't many soft, lightweight black fabrics in Hagrid's wardrobe.

Anthony sighed. "Come on, Hagrid. It's fine. I have spares."

"That won't do, Henry," Hagrid said stubbornly. "You've already helped us enough. Uh—how many boxes of rats did he eat?"

Anthony glanced at the crate. "A little more than one. I fed him twice."

"Give him some brandy," Hagrid said, stomping over to the cupboard and pulling out a large bottle.

With a puff, another plume of smoke emerged from the tattered robe. Norbert stretched his long nose toward the air, sniffing eagerly at the fruity scent. He wriggled his way out but quickly found himself stuck—his wings and full belly caught in the fabric. He thrashed impatiently, and with an ominous rrriiip, the black cloth slid off his body. The young dragon spread his wings and flapped them victoriously.

"Ouch!" Hagrid groaned. "You're the most troublesome dragon in the world, Norbert! Look what you did to Henry's robes!"

Hagrid poured some brandy into a small teapot and tipped the spout toward the young dragon. Norbert eagerly latched onto it, almost burying his entire snout inside.

Hagrid motioned for Anthony to grab the ruined robe while the dragon was distracted, but as soon as Anthony reached for it, Norbert let out a fierce growl, flapping his wings and gripping the teapot protectively.

Hagrid quickly scooped him up, holding him securely while Norbert chewed on the spout, flattening the metal with a loud clang.

"Honestly, Hagrid, just let him have it," Anthony said, shaking his head. "Fang has his patchwork bed, and it looks like Norbert wants his own… decoration."

Hagrid's eyes shone with gratitude. "That's real kind of you, Henry. Here, have some brandy yourself."

...

After the students left, the professors began preparing for their summer holidays.

Professor Burbage departed with her suitcase the same day as the students, reminding Anthony about the upcoming Society for Muggle Studies conference. She encouraged him to attend, especially on the day she was delivering the keynote speech.

Aside from Professor McGonagall, who typically stayed at Hogwarts year-round, Professor Flitwick also remained to monitor Roger Davis's recovery.

Roger's condition had finally started improving—the dead skin on his neck was peeling, though the new skin underneath was itchy. Madam Pomfrey insisted he wear mittens at all times to prevent scratching, even in the summer heat.

However, being the only student left at Hogwarts came with its perks. The house-elves, eager to please, granted Roger his every request. Madam Pomfrey even allowed him three scoops of ice cream per meal. Every morning, Roger woke up faced with the difficult decision of choosing from over 150 flavors.

Meanwhile, Professor Sprout took the opportunity to transplant the rapidly growing Devil's Snare into a special greenhouse.

"It's growing!" she said excitedly. "Maybe next year, we'll be able to harvest the Devil's Snare fruit!"

"Will it bloom too?" Anthony asked in surprise.

Snape snorted. "No, Anthony, it lays eggs."

Professor Sprout ignored Snape's sarcasm and continued talking to Anthony. "Of course! When I was still in school, there was a Devil's Snare flower breeding competition every five years! It was discontinued years ago, though… Someone once bred a variety that wasn't afraid of fire and nearly strangled a judge. But the red flowers of that breed were truly stunning."

"What color do Devil's Snare flowers usually bloom?" Anthony asked.

"White, probably. Some people think they fade once they wither," Professor Sprout said. "The usual variety prefers dark, damp environments, and the flowers close when exposed to light, so no one has recorded their color properly… but they have a very strong fragrance."

Anthony didn't have much to take home. Aside from his two pets, nearly everything could remain at Hogwarts. He had plenty of Muggle clothes at his house in the Muggle neighborhood, so he didn't see the need to pack any wizarding robes.

Just as he was thinking this, a deep blue wizarding robe slipped out from under the closet.

Although the Christmas gift had been signed by Neville Longbottom, it seemed Neville himself wasn't aware that his grandmother had given Anthony such an expensive present. Before leaving school, Neville had also secretly left a small gift box at the door of Anthony's office. Inside was a tiny potted plant.

Professor Sprout had chuckled when she saw it. "That's dill," she explained. "Neville grew it himself in the greenhouse."

Anthony smiled, recalling her earlier remark. "Remind me to get him a copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi next Christmas," she had joked. "I asked about Dictamnus in the first-year Herbology final."

Curious, Anthony had asked, "How did Longbottom do in his finals?"

"Very well," Professor Sprout had said proudly. "Minerva sometimes says Neville isn't as naturally gifted as his parents, but he earned an O in Herbology. I remember Alice only managed an E in her first year."

"That's fantastic," Anthony had replied.

Just as Anthony was about to leave, disaster struck—Hagrid's hut was nearly burned down.

As Norbert continued to grow, Anthony had repeatedly warned Hagrid that he couldn't keep the dragon in a teapot forever—no matter how large he made the teapot. The dragon was getting bigger and more restless, and it needed to be sent away as soon as possible.

Hagrid, however, stubbornly insisted that Norbert was still a "wee baby." So, Anthony had tried another argument: young creatures needed to interact with their own kind. A dragon raised in isolation could grow depressed and irritable.

Perhaps dragons weren't fond of overly hairy creatures—including humans. Maybe that's why Norbert had bitten Fang's tail.

Anthony hadn't expected his argument to inspire Hagrid to come up with a "brilliant" idea—pretending that a salamander was simply a dragon without wings.

Norbert, however, despised this supposed companion. After burning through three chairs in frustration, he finally exhaled a long, fiery breath, engulfing the unfortunate salamander lying in the fire.

As the flames roared, the salamander seemed to multiply—one became two, then dozens, then hundreds—until the entire hut was swarming with them, each one dancing wildly in the heat of the Norwegian Ridgeback's fire.

Meanwhile, outside, Anthony was lazily breaking dry bread into small pieces and tossing them to the giant squid. The massive creature stretched out a tentacle, plucked the floating crumbs from the water, and sank back down with contentment.

That was when Anthony heard Fang barking frantically.

Firelight flickered through the windows of Hagrid's cabin. From inside, Hagrid could be heard shouting, his deep voice barely audible over the roaring flames. Fang howled, tugging desperately at his leash.

Anthony's stomach dropped. "Oh my God! Hagrid!" he shouted, sprinting towards the hut. "Can you hear me?" He pounded on the door, recoiling slightly at the intense heat radiating from it.

"I'm all right, Henry!" Hagrid coughed from inside. "Ahem—ahem—I'm just playing with Norbert!"

A thick plume of black smoke billowed from the door's cracks.

"Hagrid, get out of there!" Anthony shouted.

"Norbert, no!" Hagrid bellowed in response.

Judging by the orange glow intensifying inside the hut, it was clear that Norbert had no intention of listening. The cabin window creaked ominously before shattering into shards of glass. Several salamanders wriggled out, their fiery bodies hissing as they landed on the pumpkin leaves outside, instantly roasting them into shriveled curls.

Anthony rushed around to the side and stood on tiptoe, peering in through the shattered window. The scene inside was absolute chaos.

The stone table—one of the only things in the cabin untouched by the flames—still stood firm in its place. Everything else, however, was unrecognizable.

Hagrid's cupboards had been charred black. His bed was engulfed in flames. The carpet was a writhing mass of salamanders, each one crackling with flames, using the burning rug as fuel to grow stronger.

In the middle of the inferno, Hagrid stood desperately shaking three salamanders off his calves.

Above him, Norbert hovered, wings flapping, tail curling, swaying erratically in the air as he breathed fire downwards. Hagrid waved his enormous hands wildly, trying—and failing—to catch him.

Anthony didn't hesitate.

"Aguamenti!" he bellowed, aiming his wand at the chaos inside.

Here's the corrected and polished version of your passage:

With a sharp hiss, the jet of water from Anthony's wand evaporated into steam upon contact with the flames. Several salamanders turned gray instantly, their charred forms crumbling into damp ashes on the burnt carpet. But despite this, more fire lizards continued to emerge from the inferno, seemingly multiplying within the sea of flames.

"Hagrid, use your wand!" Anthony shouted. "You're a wizard, remember?"

At the same time, he couldn't help but long for a good old-fashioned fire truck.

"My wand—my wand…" Hagrid stammered, fumbling around. "It's burnt! Oh, Norbert!" He finally retrieved a small umbrella from the fire, though it was now little more than a charred skeleton. Holding it aloft, he shook it frantically and bellowed, "Aguamenti Circule!"

"It's Aguamenti, not Aguamenti Circule!" Anthony corrected, brushing a salamander off the windowsill before vaulting into Hagrid's hut.

"Sorry," Hagrid said gruffly. "Never been great at Charms."

He gave the umbrella another flick, but before he could attempt the spell again, the bed collapsed under the flames with a loud crash. Startled, Hagrid's unfinished incantation turned into a yelp, and his makeshift wand—if it could still be called that—drew a wild arc through the air.

With a crackling noise, a strange-looking rhinoceros suddenly materialized in the middle of the hut, its enormous back supporting Hagrid's heavy stone table.

Brilliant, Anthony thought, now we have an indoor zoo.

""Aguamenti!"" Anthony cast again, this time from atop the stone table, ducking slightly to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling.

Norbert, meanwhile, attempted to flee—only to crash headfirst into the chandelier with a loud clang.

Three powerful jets of water later, Anthony finally remembered to use household magic to force the pipes to open themselves. The faucet exploded to life, gushing water like a broken dam. The salamanders that had managed to climb into the sink were reduced to a sludge of soot and embers before being washed into the drain. Anthony could only hope that the wizarding world had a spell to unclog pipes.

From the chandelier, Norbert dangled precariously, swaying as he prepared to unleash another fiery breath.

"You've caused enough trouble for one day," Anthony muttered, and with one swift motion, he pulled the dragon from the brass fixture. Norbert thrashed and snapped at him, but Anthony, quick on his feet, enlarged his hat just enough to scoop the squirming creature inside.

"Norbert!" Hagrid cried, alarmed.

"Norbert's fine," Anthony assured him, firmly holding the hat shut as the dragon let out an indignant whimper from within.

With the combined effort of multiple water jets, a burst pipe, and dozens of well-aimed water spells, the salamanders finally ceased their chaotic multiplication. Hagrid, still somewhat dazed, had eventually joined in—ripping open more water pipes in his frantic attempt to help. Now, with the battle over, thick white steam billowed through the hut like a makeshift sauna.

The inferno had been conquered. All that remained was the quiet dripping of water from the broken pipes, forming small puddles that spread over the scorched floorboards and trickled out through the cracks under the door.

"Reparo."

With a flick of Anthony's wand, the water stopped. The broken pipes mended themselves with a series of metallic creaks. Silence fell over the hut, broken only by the occasional drip, drip of leftover water.

Hagrid stood barefoot in the middle of the soaked room, his beard still slightly singed. He looked up at Anthony, who was perched atop the stone table on the back of the transfigured rhino, and gave him a sheepish, nervous grin.

"Oh, Henry…" Hagrid muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Here is the corrected and polished version of your passage:

Anthony jumped off the table, sliding down the rhino's back and landing with a splash in the puddles covering the floor. "Well done, Hagrid—fire and brimstone rained from the sky, and then a flood swallowed the earth. I hereby declare your hut a place of sin."

Hagrid blinked, confused. "What?"

Anthony shook the heavy, soot-streaked hat in his hand. "And this," he said, gesturing at the wriggling dragon within, "is the source of all evil. Hagrid, you really need to send it away. The second eldest Weasley—Charlie, I think—is studying dragons. I could ask him for you."

"No!" Hagrid wailed, his eyes welling with tears. "It's all my fault. It's 'cause I let the salamanders out! Norbert's just a baby—he doesn't understand any of this!"

"Oh, Hagrid," Anthony sighed, staring at the enormous man in front of him. "Don't cry—you said you knew this day would come."

"But not—not this soon!" Hagrid sobbed. "He's still so little! He could've grown bigger than my house!"

"Well, there's your answer," Anthony said firmly. "It's a dragon. It wasn't born to live in a wooden hut, raised by humans. If it could grow bigger than your house, then it's even more reason to send it away before it does. It's still the holidays—you could even take it to Charlie yourself." He hesitated. "Although I'll need to send him a letter first—I forgot where exactly his reserve is."

Hagrid sniffled loudly. "He's so small. If I send him away, he won't have a mother anymore! Without his dragon mum, and without his mum Rubeus, what's he gonna do? At least I had a father—"

At that moment, the transfigured rhino lowered its head to take a sip from the flooded floor. The heavy stone table, now precariously balanced, slipped off its back and crashed to the ground, shattering into several pieces.