Chapter VIII: Draca and the Dragon

 Chapter VIII: Draca and the Dragon

Draca was bored. At least she was on top of her homework. But the only fun she’d had since the end of Christmas holiday was the news that Professor Snape would be the referee for the next Quidditch match: Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff. At least Draca could root against Potter.

Carefully, Draca settled herself into her seat in the upper box. 

“You okay, Miss Malfoy? You look like you’re trying to sit on a hedgehog,” said Crabbe.

“Stuff it, Crabbe. These old wooden seats are just uncomfortable is all. Gotta watch for splinters, don’t you?”

Goyle glanced at his seat. “Really? Are they that bad?” Then he ran a finger along the wooden surface, before he snarled in pain. “Ouch!”

Draca cackled as she watched Goyle suck on his injured finger. It had taken three weeks, but the last of her bruises from Christmas had mostly healed over. Then, something caught Draca’s ear. A girl’s voice, muttering. 

Draca looked down, and recognized the back of Hermione Granger’s head from her frizzy hair. "Now, don't forget, it's Locomotor Mortis…"

Roz Weasley was fumbling with something under the sleeve of her witch’s robes. "I know," Roz snapped. "Don't nag."

Neville Longbottom glanced around. His face immediately went pale as he spotted Draca, Crabbe, and Goyle, before he quickly looked forward.

As the two Quidditch teams took their places on the field, the crowd hushed.

"I've never seen Snape look so mean," said Roz. "Look—they're off—Ouch!"

Draca poked Weasley in the back of the head. "Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there."

Draca grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle. "Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?"

Weasley didn't answer; Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George Weasley had hit a Bludger at him. Granger, who had all her fingers crossed in her lap, was watching Harry closely, as he circled the arena like a hawk, looking for the Snitch.

Draca watched Potter flying for a few minutes. Then, Snape awarded Hufflepuff another

penalty for no reason at all, and Draca couldn’t help but smile. "You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?" she said, raising her voice. "It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter, who's got no parents, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money—you should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains."

Longbottom went bright red but turned in his seat to face Draca.

"I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy," he stammered.

Draca, Crabbe, and Goyle howled with laughter, but Weasley, still not daring to take his eyes from the game, said, "You tell him, Neville."

"Longbottom, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something."

Weasley glared at Draca. She looked like her nerves were shot from anxiety. "I'm warning you, Malfoy–one more word–”

"Roz!" said Hermione suddenly, "Harry–"

"What? Where?"

Potter had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. Granger stood up, her crossed fingers in her mouth, as Potter streaked toward the ground like a bullet.

"You're in luck, Weasley, Potter's obviously spotted some money on the ground!" said Draca.

Then, before Draca knew what was happening, Weasley was on top of her, wrestling him to the ground. Longbottom hesitated, then clambered over the back of his seat to help.

As Draca and Weasley rolled on the ground, they bumped into the back of Granger’s seat, as she leapt up and screamed, “Come on, Harry!” 

Draca caught a glimpse of a whirl of fists, and the sounds of scuffles and yelps coming from Longbottom, Crabbe, and Goyle. Then, Weasley slapped Draca hard across her face.

The crowd gasped, before the stands erupted in cheers. Draca could dimly make out something about how someone had caught the Snitch, before she felt a bump, and realized Weasley was stepping on her.

"Roz! Roz! Where are you? The game's over! Harry's won! We've won! Gryffindor is in the lead!" shrieked Hermione, dancing up and down on her seat and hugging Parvati Patil in the row in front.

Draca scrambled to get out from under Weasley. Longbottom was lying slumped over across two seats, unconscious. 

Draca felt her skull throbbing, and realized she had a black eye, nearly swollen shut. But just barely, she could still make out Potter holding aloft the snitch. The match had barely lasted five minutes. It had to be a school record.

Snape spat bitterly on the ground.

The Gryffindors were running to lift Potter onto their shoulders. Weasley and Granger were jumping up and down, Weasley cheering through a heavy nosebleed.

***

Draca had yelled at Crabbe and Goyle for an hour. “You two trolls couldn’t handle Longbottom, two against one?”

“But we did knock out Longbottom, Miss Malfoy,” said Crabbe.

“Yeah, he just took us by surprise is all,” said Goyle.

“That’s not the point. Just look at what Weasley did to my beautiful face. You’re supposed to protect me!”

“Sorry, Miss Malfoy,” said Goyle.

“Yeah, I guess Weasley’s tougher than she looks, too,” said Crabbe.

“It was a cheap shot! Weasley didn’t fight fair.”

“Fight a what?” asked Crabbe.

“Fight fair, you buffoon. Don’t you know English? It means Weasley took me by surprise, is all. I’d have won if it was a fair fight, one-on-one.”

Goyle looked heartbroken. “So… you don’t need us to fight blokes for you anymore, Miss Malfoy?”

Draca groaned. “Oh, never mind!”

It was no use getting Crabbe and Goyle to understand anything. Then, Malfoy remembered something. “Hold on, I heard Granger coaching Weasley about doing the Leg-Lock Curse. They were expecting trouble at the match… Like the first match when Potter nearly fell off his broom.”

Crabbe and Goyle both chuckled, as they had been instructed to do previously at any mention of Potter falling off a broomstick. Draca’s voice cracked as she screamed. “Shut up! I need to think!”

In a huff, Draca stormed out of the Slytherin common room to stand in the dungeon hallway. Something was going on with Potter and his friends. What were they up to? Draca strained her memory. Then, something clicked. “First, they were going on and on about some old pure-blood wizard… Flamel. And what happened to Harry’s broomstick… even if he is a clumsy flyer, the Nimbus model broomsticks don’t malfunction that way. Did someone jinx his broom? Who? Professor Snape? Too bad it didn’t work, but… They’re up to something, and someone is trying to stop them.”

Draca glanced at the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room. This was a puzzle, but Crabbe and Goyle were hopeless at jigsaw puzzles. But Draca knew she could crack it. All she needed was more information. One more piece of the puzzle, to make the picture become clear.

***

For the next few days, Draca made it a habit to eavesdrop whenever she was nearby Potter, Weasley, or Granger. Her best opportunities were potions class, flying class, and every meal at the Great Hall.

Then, one breakfast time, Draca got lucky. Draca was pacing along the Slytherin table, pretending to get a second serving of bacon, when something caught her ear. 

Weasley was complaining about wanting to skip herbology, “Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?"

Draca stood dead still.

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing–"

"Shut up!" Potter whispered.

As she caught Potter’s eye, Draca relished the moment.

***

Draca knew that if Potter and his friends were up to something, she’d have to catch them at it after their Herbology class. At mid morning break, Draca made her way to the grounds. Sure enough, she saw three small figures running toward Hagrid’s hut.

As Draca approached the hut, she peered through the window. And there it was! A small, black, baby dragon hatchling, sitting right on Hagrid’s table.

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.

Draca tried to make out their conversation, but the window muffled too much of the sound. Then Draca saw Hagrid’s beady little black eyes, staring right at her, before the color suddenly drained from the half-giant’s face.

Draca bolted.

"What's the matter?" called Potter loudly.

"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains–it's a kid–she's runnin' back up ter the school," barked Hagrid.

Draca glanced over her shoulder. She’d managed to put a good distance between her and the hut, but there could be no mistaking Harry Potter. 

Draca knew about their little, secret, highly-illegal dragon. And even better, Harry Potter knew that she knew!

***

Draca spent the next week planning her next move. To her delight, she kept catching a glimpse of famous Harry Potter, glancing at her. She always made sure to let him see her smile. Of course, she had to rat them out to someone. She could report the dragon to Dumbledore, but everyone knew that the old fool favored half-breeds like Hagrid. Better to report it to the ministry, or Professor Snape? 

By now, Draca knew she was Snape’s favorite student. He recognized natural talent for potions. 

But when she tried to speak with Professor Snape after class, he kept brushing her off. It was as if Snape couldn’t wait to get out of his classroom, and go straight to patrolling the upper castle alone.

Finally, Draca decided to bide her time. Why spoil the fun? And sure enough, one Potions class, she noticed Weasley struggling to work with a swollen, purplish hand. The cut was full of sickly, greenish pus. A dragon bite wound? It had to be!

Draca wondered if all dragon bites were fatal. If only she knew the species. Then, she overheard Granger telling Weasley she had to get to the hospital wing right away.

Draca waited a half an hour, then went up the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey stopped him. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, just needed to borrow a book from Weasley for our Potions class.”

Madam Pomfrey frowned, then nudged Draca towards Weasley’s sick bed. “Then be quick about it. See that you don’t disturb her.”

Draca sat next to Weasley, her breath shaky. Weasley was lying in bed, her entire arm an angry red color up to the shoulder. Draca checked over her shoulder. Madam Pomfrey was well out of earshot. “Hello, Weasley.”

Weasley’s eyes fluttered open. “Malfoy.”

“You’re looking a bit worse for wear, Weasley. Your arm’s as bloody red as your hair. Do you think they’ll have to amputate?”

“Go soak your head in a bucket of frog spawn, Malfoy.”

“Ah, that reminds me, I needed to borrow a potions book from you.” Draca found Weasley’s copy of Magical Drafts and Potions, and pocketed it.  “I doubt you’ll be needing it. Not after the ministry finds out about your pet dragon.”

Weasley’s eyes went wide, before she narrowed them. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“That scratch doesn’t look like a simple infection, Weasley. Looks more like a bite mark from something venomous.” 

Weasley looked away. “Dog bit me.”

“And Madam Pomfrey believed that? I doubt it. You know, I simply loved dragons as a little girl. Read every book I could get on them. If you ask me, this looks more like dragon venom. A Norwegian Ridgeback, perhaps?”

Weasley clenched her jaw.

Draca snickered. “You know, Weasley, I just can’t decide what I should do. On the one hand, if I tell Madame Pomfrey that a Norwegian Ridgeback bit you, that oaf Hagrid’s sure to be sacked. On the other hand, if I don’t tell her, maybe you’ll take the secret to your grave, like a noble friend. And then I’ll report Hagrid for keeping an illegal dragon.”

“You’ve got my book. Get out, Malfoy.”

Draca shifted in her seat. She had been hoping to see Weasley beg. “You shouldn’t have hit me at the Quidditch match, Weasley. I simply disliked you before that. Thanks for the book. I owe you one.”

***

For the next couple days, Draca debated what to do next. Finally, she went to the library, to give the matter some thought in peace and quiet. As she passed Longbottom in the hall, Draca was pleased to see him pale, and stand aside to let her pass.

Finally, she settled down at her preferred table in the library. Why not just tell on Potter now? Did it really matter who she told? Whether it was a teacher or the ministry, a live dragon was sure to be spotted, and that would cause trouble for Hagrid.

But, no. There was nothing to pin the crime on Potter, Weasley, and Granger. They deserved to be punished too, not just the half-breed giant. It was a matter of timing. Draca had to make sure they all got caught at the proper time.

Thoughtlessly, Draca flipped through the book she took from Weasley, and found a letter addressed to Roz Weasley from a “Charlie Weasley.” Intrigued, Draca opened it.

“So this is their little plan? Just you wait, Potter, Weasley, maybe even Granger too. Tonight, when you go wandering around the castle at midnight… I’ll be waiting for you.”

Then, Draca laughed. It seemed she had the luck of the Devil on her side. 

***

According to Charlie Weasley’s letter, he planned to pick up “Norbert,” which could only be a coded reference to the Norwegian Ridgeback, in secret on Saturday night, at the stroke of midnight. 

Wearing only her pajamas, Draca slunk along the corridors and up the steps. For the hundredth time, she checked the letter. Of course, if Weasley realised it was missing, she might have thought to change the time. But Weasley probably wasn’t that bright. And even if they did suspect that Draca knew, this was still their only opportunity to get rid of the dragon.

She had them, dead to rights. When they came to climb the spiral staircase to the astronomy tower, she would be waiting for them, ready to fire a Leg-Lock Curse.

Then, a lamp flared behind Draca.

Professor McGonagall appeared behind her, wearing a tartan bathrobe and a hair net, and seized Draca, pinching her by the ear. “Another student out of bed? Ridiculous!”

Draca howled as she was led along behind McGonagall, clutching tight to the older witch’s arm. 

"Detention!" shouted MacGonagall. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you–"

"You don't understand, Professor. Harry Potter's coming–he's got a dragon!"

"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on–I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!"

***

Draca stood with her nose pressed against the stone wall in Professor McGonagall’s office, her hands folded neatly behind her head.

Feeling like she was a toddler in timeout, Draca thought about how she would have much preferred a caning to this shameful treatment.

Then, a terrible thought occurred to her. Getting detention, losing twenty points for Slytherin, what if that was only the beginning? Once her father heard of this new humiliation… But Draca didn’t want to dwell on that possibility.

McGonagall had left Draca here, with firm instructions not to move, while she searched the halls for other students wandering out of bed. The only hope Draca could cling to was that Potter and a few of his friends might still be caught.

Then, the door opened, but it wasn’t Professor McGonagall. Mr. Filch appeared, his yellow smile visible even in the shadow. Mrs. Norris purred as she nuzzled on top of his shoulder, her red eyes shining. Two students followed him meekly into the room: Potter and Granger.

Draca’s whole body shivered. She had done it!

Filch peered around the room. “Professor McGonagall, are you in? Eh, what’s this? Another student out of bed? That makes three of them in one night!”

“Four, I’m afraid,” answered Professor McGonnagal’s voice from behind them.

Intrigued, Draca dared to take a peek without making it obvious. McGonagall entered her office, with Neville Longbottom behind her. Draca couldn’t believe her luck. The look of sorrow on Potter’s face said it all. 

"Harry!" Neville burst out, the moment he saw the other two. "I was trying to find you to warn you, I heard Malfoy saying he was going to catch you, he said you had a drag–"

Potter shook his head violently to shut Neville up, but Professor McGonagall had seen. She looked more likely to breathe fire than Norbert as she towered over the three of them.

"I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr. Filch says you were up in the astronomy tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. Explain yourselves."

Hermione was staring at her slippers, as still as a statue.

"I think I've got a good idea of what's been going on," said Professor McGonagall. "It doesn't take a genius to work it out. You fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble. I've already caught him. I suppose you think it's funny that Longbottom here heard the story and believed it, too?"

Draca stiffened. Did they not have the dragon? She tried to take another peek, but a stern glance from Draca warned her not to move an inch.

"I'm disgusted," said Professor McGonagall. "Four students out of bed in one night! I've never heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense. As for you, Mr. Potter, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. All three of you will receive detentions–yes, you too, Mr. Longbottom, nothing gives you the right to walk around

school at night, especially these days, it's very dangerous–and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor."

"Fifty?" Harry gasped–they would lose the lead, the lead he'd won in the last Quidditch match.

"Fifty points each," said Professor McGonagall, breathing heavily through her long, pointed nose.

"Professor–please.”

"You can't–”

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Potter. Now get back to bed, all of you. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students."

Draca wanted to dance and sing. Slytherin was now sure to win the house cup.

“As for you, Miss Malfoy, after I see these three to bed, I’m escorting you straight to the dungeons. It will be up to Professor Snape to determine if any further punishment is needed in your case.”

Draca affected a sweet smile. “Yes, Professor.”

Finally, she would have justice!

***