Hey, what are you gonna do?
When those walls are falling down
Falling down on you
~ Walls x Beck
Chapter 10: Muggle-ish Rage
Theo and Ron had convinced the rest to follow them that night to see their future telling mirror. They traveled in groups of three under Tobias's invisibility cloak, seeing that all six of them couldn't fit under it together. They met at the library, pretending they had been there to work on their project. With Theo leading, they would slip into the aisles of books and disappear under the cloak.
Once they all made it to the deserted classroom, Ron carefully closed the door. The six stood around the mirror—nobody knowing what to expect except Theo and Ron. Hermione stood farthest from the mirror, her arms crossed as she eyed the five boys.
"Are you sure we are allowed to be down here?" She asked.
Theo smirked. "I'm sure we won't get caught being down here."
"That isn't the same thing."
Tobias tuned out Hermione's and Theodore's conversation. He walked towards the mirror first, desperate to see the future. Would he be the heir? Was his grandfather alive? At first he only saw himself, but then a man and a woman appeared beside him. The woman was a lighter color than him, and she had unruly, curly black hair. She wore jet black robes and black heeled boots. She wasn't smiling, but she wasn't frowning either. She just looked intently at Tobias on the other side of the mirror. The man was doing the same. He wore the black robes known to be the robes of his grandfather's followers. Tobias felt his throat go dry—he was looking at his parents.
"Pretty neat, huh?" Ron said as he stood beside Tobias.
This didn't make sense. This mirror was supposed to tell the future, yet is father was standing beside him in his reflection.
"This mirror doesn't tell the future." He said lowly, becoming disappointed with the image in front of him.
Theodore's smiled dropped. "But it has to."
Tobias turned to face the other five, all who were wondering what Tobias had seen in the mirror. "I saw my father in the mirror." He saw his friends tense up, and Hermione dropped her hands to her side.
"How can this mirror show the future, if my father is dead?" He turned back to the mirror, looking back at the images of his mother and father. This was a cruel trick, but he couldn't take his eyes off of it. They were here, with him. He felt his eyes begin to water, quickly wiping away the tears that threatened to form. He walked away from the mirror and sat in one of the old desks, waiting for everyone to finish.
Tobias came back the next night, alone. Yesterday, he had been disappointed by what he saw, mainly because he was looking forward to seeing the future. But it was the fact that he was seeing his parents. Though they were just reflections, they felt more real than the portraits of him at home. He sat in front of the mirror, staring at them—for how long he didn't know. His heart ache to actually meet them, but he knew that he couldn't. This was all he had.
"Enjoying ourselves, Tobias?"
Tobias quickly stood up, taking out his wand and pointing it near the direction of the voice. He soon felt his cheeks grow red once he realized it was Professor Dumbledore he was pointing his wand at. Dumbledore was sitting in one of the desk in the far corner of the room. Tobias returned his wand back to his robes, internally cursing himself for getting caught.
"I—I didn't see you, sir."
Dumbledore didn't say anything, but Tobias was relieved to see that the old professor was smiling. He rose from his seat and walked over to Tobias, placing himself right next to him.
"So you have discovered the Mirror of Erised." He looked down to the dark-haired boy beside him. "Am I correct to assume you've realized by now what it does?"
Tobias opened his mouth to answer, but he really wasn't sure what the mirror did. Before he believed that it showed him the future, but now. "It—well – it shows me my parents, but—"
"It showed Ronald Weasley as head boy and Theodore Nott's cured mother."
Tobias raised an eyebrow. "Professor, how did you-?"
"Forgive me," Dumbledore said gently. "But I have been watching you all interact with the mirror since Mister Nott and Mister Weasley found it. This mirror shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate thought of our hearts. You see your family, because you have never known them. Mister Weasley, who is overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself as the greatest of them all."
"And what about Theodore?"
Dumbledore went silent for a moment. "Mister Nott's is more complicated. But if I am to guess, he sees his mother in full health because he feels as if it is his fault she is sick. And his father isn't there, because they can't truly be happy with him."
"Why would Theodore feel like it's his fault?" Tobias asked. Theodore was never the person to feel guilty or dwell on feelings.
"I can't answer that." Dumbledore said. "This mirror gives us neither knowledge nor truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing what it shows is real or even possible."
Tobias nodded, truly understanding the meaning of the mirror.
"This mirror will be moved tomorrow and I must ask you and your friends, Tobias, to never go looking for it again. Is that understood?"
Tobias nodded.
"But if you ever do come across it again, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that." He then turned away, making his way to walk out of the deserted classroom.
"Professor Dumbledore?" asked Tobias, turning around as well. "May I asked you a question?"
Dumbledore turned around, smiling once more. "You just did. But you may ask me one more thing."
"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"
Dumbledore paused. "I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks."
Tobias furrowed his brow. Obviously this wasn't the truth, but who was he to question the headmaster of Hogwarts. Dumbledore must've know Tobias saw right through him, but only smiled again and turned to walk out of the classroom. Tobias turned back to the mirror, trying to capture the image of his parents standing before him one last time. He then grabbed his cloak and threw it over his head, leaving the class room.
/
Blaise Zabini. Pureblood prince, or at least that's what his mother called him. Nobody gave him the accolades he deserved, with him being fourth in line of the pureblood heirs of his generation. Tobias LeStrange, of course, was at the top—his life destined to be the Heir of the Dark Lord. Draco Malfoy was next, only because his father was one of the Dark Lord's faithful followers. Theodore Nott, was third in line—his father being one of the Dark Lord's most favorable pureblood supremacists. All their fathers had been Death Eater's, except his. He was only fourth in line because Crabbe and Goyle were too stupid to fall into the Dark Lord's ranks.
He tried to be friends with the top three heirs, but he couldn't do it. After the incident at flying lessons, it wouldn't be an exaggeration that he hated them. The way LeStrange and Malfoy took up for that pathetic Gryffindor, Longbottom. The way Malfoy hung around that bushy- haired freak, Granger. A true pureblood heir never showed sympathy to the enemy, and always stayed true to their side. From that point on, Zabini saw them as poor excuses for heirs. He believed he should've been the true heir of the Dark Lord.
He was walking to the library, Crabbe and Goyle in tow. He saw his two goons as accomplishments, seeing as they pledged their loyalty to Malfoy first. He walked to the back of the library, trying to find a table that he could work in peace. As he made his way to the back, he heard voices—two familiar voices at that. LeStrange and Granger. He grimaced, shooing Crabbe and Goyle away so he could easily creep and hear the conversation. He stood behind one of the book shelves, pretending to be looking for a book as he listened to his two enemies' conversation.
"So how does Christmas work, in the muggle world?" He heard LeStrange ask.
"It's pretty much the same as you wizards do." Granger answered. "We put up a Christmas tree, decorate it, wrap presents and put them under the tree."
"You don't have house elves to do that for you?"
Granger giggled. "No, I'm afraid us muggles don't have the luxury, if you can even call it a luxury," She said under her breath. "of house elves."
Blaise tore his ear away from the conversation. Granger was a muggle. A muggle. Not only was the Granger girl a mudblood, but Tobias was conversing with her about their customs. And even worse, he seemed intrigued. It disgusted him—it was a disgrace to the Slytherin house. To purebloods alike. And Malfoy stuck beside her as if she was a trophy. An evil grin then fell on his lips. Did Malfoy even know? Did the rest of her precious little gang know?
"What are you doing here Zabini?" He heard a voice growl behind him.
Blaise turned to see the Weasley boy standing behind him. He assumed that he was making his way to sit at the table with LeStrange and Granger. Blaise only smiled at him, putting on his mask of pureblood politeness.
"I hardly see why that is any of your concern, Weasley." And with that he pushed passed him, walking towards the table Crabbe and Goyle had found on the other side of the library. If they didn't know Granger was a mudblood now, they would find out soon.
/
The first Saturday after the break came, and the second Quidditch match of the season for Slytherin was in a couple hours. The match was against Ravenclaw, and if Slytherin won, they would be one match away from the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup. Tobias and Draco entered the Great Hall, cheers from the Slytherin table and other Slytherin supporters filled their ears as they walked to the table. The cheers were so loud you could barely hear the 'boos' from the Ravenclaw house.
They made their way to the end of the Gryffindor table, where they were greeted by their four friends. Draco sat beside Hermione and Tobias sat between Theodore and Ron. Theodore had his usual unbothered appearance on his face, but Ron looked as if he'd seen a ghost.
"What's pulling your leg, Weasley?" Draco asked, picking up a piece of toast.
"You didn't hear." He said surprised.
Tobias shook his head. "Heard what?"
Ron leaned over the table as if he was holding You-Know-Who's darkest secret. "Snape's referring at the match."
Tobias soon felt sick to his stomach, he felt his body tense and all the excitement he held for today's match quickly evaporated. He felt everyone's eyes boring into him. Snape was the reason he almost fell off his broom in the last match—now he was referring?!
"Don't play." Hermione pleaded.
"Say you're ill," Neville suggested.
"Pretend to break your leg." Draco offered.
"Really break your leg." Theodore said humorously.
Tobias put his head in his hands. "I can't. There isn't a replacement seeker. If I back out, Slytherin forfeits the game."
Nobody said anything, Slytherin couldn't forfeit—they were too close to winning the cup. Their silence was interrupted as Blaise and his goons came around to the table, laughing.
"Don't worry LeStrange," He said wickedly, "if your broom malfunctions this time, you can always use it the muggle way."
"Get out of here Zabini." Draco sneered.
Blaise walked away, Crabbe and Goyle snickering behind him. Tobias looked at Hermione, who had completely gone pale. Zabini knew. How did he find out?
"What did Zabini mean, by the muggle way?" Ron asked curiously.
Tobias continued to stare at Hermione, and she finally met his gaze, tears sparkling in her eyes. They both knew that whatever Zabini had planned it wouldn't be pretty. He wouldn't let that happened to Hermione. She wanted to tell everyone when she was ready, and he would give her that. But she kept her gaze on him, perhaps wondering if he would tell the others what Zabini really meant.
"I have no idea." He finally said, watching as the color returned to Hermione's face. "Come on Draco, we have to go."
Ron and the others still seemed confused about what happened, but shrugged it off as everyone began to leave for the match. Hermione lagged behind, trying to figure out how Zabini found out about her. Theodore must've noticed because he turned around.
"You alright, Hermione?"
She came out of her reverie to notice him, Ron, and Neville staring at her. She tried to look unbothered as she put on her best smile.
"Yeah, never better."
"Then come on, we're going to miss the match." He said, looping his arm in hers and rushing her to the Quidditch pitch.
/
If Tobias wasn't nervous before, he was now. Nobody stopped the Heir of the Dark Lord from completing a task. Nobody intimidated him. But here was Snape, wearing his usual black robes and floating on a broom with the whistle around his neck. His eyes watched the field intently, oblivious to the cheers and screams around him. He looked hungry—hungry to produce some Tobias- directed dark magic.
"This is Lee Jordan once again. Today's match: SLYTHERIN VS RAVENCLAW!"
Tobias could barely hear the cheers as he walked onto the field—his green eyes following Snape.
"Blimey, the whole bloody school's out there." Adrian Pucey said. "Even Dumbledore is here."
Tobias barely heard it, but Draco looked up and indeed saw the old professor sitting in the teacher's stand. No one could miss that awfully long beard.
Hermione watched the Slytherin team through her binoculars, mostly Tobias and Draco. Her eyes darted between them and Professor Snape, who had not moved from his position since the two teams first arrived on the field. She was so focused on the three that she didn't notice Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle sit directly behind her. She shivered as Zabini put his mouth to her ear, snickering lowly.
"Binoculars, Granger?" He sneered. "How very muggle-ish of you."
She shrugged him off her, trying her best to ignore his jeer. It didn't matter if Zabini knew or not, he obviously didn't have the gall to broadcast it to everyone. Her choice to ignore Zabini must've bothered him, because he continued with his banter.
"Wonder how long LeStrange's going to stay on his broom this time?" He said obnoxiously, his goal for everyone to hear him. Hermione felt her blood boil. "Anyone want to bet? What about you, Weasley? Seeing as you have all the money in the world."
Ron ignored him.
"What about you, Longbottom? What do you bet LeStrange falls harder than you did at flying lessons?"
Neville didn't answer, but his face went horribly red. He tried to stay focused on the game—Snape had just called a penalty for Slytherin because one of the beaters hit Flint. He tried to focus on the 'boos' and jeers coming from the Ravenclaw side of the field—but it didn't stop Zabini.
"How about you, Theodore? How much do you want to bet that LeStrange stays in the hospital wing longer than your mother's been at St. Mungo's?"
Hermione felt her heart stop. Ron's face went redder than it had ever been, his nerves on the verge of supernova. Neville could hardly breathe as Crabbe and Golye roared with laughter. They all turned their heads to look at Theodore, who had gone completely pale. His body went rigid—he seemed out of it, emotionless, as if he was dead inside.
"And I believe LeStrange has spotted the snitch!" said Lee Jordan over the intercom, but it hardly mattered now.
"You take that back, Zabini." Ron said dangerously low, turning to face the tan-skinned Slytherin.
"LeStrange is going for the dive, will he catch the snitch?"
Zabini stood up, a nasty smirk on his face. "Or what, Weasley?"
Ron balled his fist, preparing to give Zabini what he finally deserved. Hermione focused on Tobias, not wanting to see how this would end. She watched him streak towards the ground, his hand reaching for the golden ball in front of him.
"He's almost there." Lee Jordan continued.
Theodore soon stood up, it looked as if he rose from the dead. He turned to look at Zabini, who was still smirking at Ron. He then turned to look at Theo, and his smirk quickly fell. Ron noticed his change in expression—it looked as if Zabini was afraid. He turned to Theo and soon realized why. Theodore look different, he looked deadly—his face was a ghostly pale and you could literally see the veins emerging from his temple. There were tears in his eyes and his fists were clenched so tight, his knuckles turned white. Neville winced at the appearance of him, scooting as close to Hermione as he could.
"AND TOBIAS LESTRANGE HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH, SLYTHERIN WINS"
As the Slytherin house stood up to cheer and celebrate, Theodore lunged at Zabini. Ron and Neville tried to pull them apart but it was no use, Theodore was apparently really strong. They watched as the two boys wrestled in the stands, Theo getting a good punch in every now and then. He couldn't stop, wouldn't stop—he didn't want to stop. He couldn't hear anything—not Hermione's screams for them to stop, not the cheers for the Slytherin team, not Zabini's screams for help—nothing. All he could see was the horrid Slytherin through his tears. He felt his rage reaching its peak when the two were forcefully pushed apart. Zabini scrambled away, his goons trampling behind him and Theodore looked up to see Hermione holding her wand, tears running down her face as well. Ron and Neville had left the stands, running to follow Zabini to make sure he didn't cause any trouble for Theodore. She held out her hand to him, and he took it immediately, already starting to regret his recent outburst.
"Let's go for a walk." She said, and Theodore slowly nodded—his anger subsiding by the minute.
Tobias jumped off his broom, running towards his teammates. They greeted him with cheers and head bumps—Pansy Parkinson once again placing a fat kiss on his cheek. He looked to the teachers stand to see Dumbledore giving him a thumbs up, and then to Snape who had returned to the ground, walking away swiftly from the pitch.
"Guess he's upset that he didn't get to play any tricks this time." Draco whispered as he walked by.
/
Hermione and Theodore were the last of the crowd to return to the castle. Hermione felt like Theodore needed to cool off—and the fact that she was afraid he would lose his temper once again. She was relieved that no one stopped to talk to them, or bothered Theodore—his face was still pale and the tears kept rolling down his cheeks. She led them down the corridor opposite from the Great Hall. Theodore hardly paid any attention to where she was taking him until he was sitting on top of a sink in the girl's bathroom.
Hermione sat on the loo directly across from him, her eyes staring intently at his features. Theodore knew where this was leading to, and he didn't like it. He cleared his throat, trying to sound like his usual nonchalant self as much as possible.
"Is there any reason why you brought me to the girl's bathroom? I kind of made a promise to Merlin that I wouldn't come in here anymore."
Hermione shrugged. "I thought we could use some privacy." Duh Theo.
He scratched the back of his head, he needed to get out of here. "Look, Hermione—about earlier—"
"Your mother is sick."
Theodore dropped his hand, and he felt dead inside once more. He wasn't expecting her to say that—he was expecting her to ask what happened. But of course, he was looking at Hermione Granger, who probably figured it out earlier at the match.
"She's been sick for a while." He said it barely above a whisper. "It's nothing."
Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "It didn't look like nothing—the way you were trying to kill Zabini."
Theodore turned red, remembering the previous incident. "I wasn't going to kill him." He then looked up at her, seeing that she wasn't convinced. He could see it in her eyes that she was worried, the same look his mother has when she looks at him. He couldn't take it—this was his secret. No one was supposed to know. Especially not Tobias and Draco.
"Promise you won't tell them." He said quickly.
Hermione dropped her hands to her side. "Theodore, you have an anger problem." She said softly, wondering why he would want to keep it a secret.
He ignored her. "They'll deny me as an heir—they'll see me as unfit. I have to be worthy, Hermione. I have to be." He could feel the dread taking over his body.
"Why, Theodore? We can get you some help."
"I don't need help!" He screamed. She didn't understand, and he couldn't explain to her. He needed to be worthy for the Dark Lord. An heir had no weaknesses—no flaws. But he had one, and if it was exposed he would be a disgrace to the House of Nott. He would be a failure to his father—there would be no hope for his mother. He could feel his breaths becoming heavier as he gave into his emotions once more.
Hermione watched him fall apart once again. She could see the desperation in his eyes, the fear. This was what hid beneath the cool and collective Theodore Nott. A frightened and angry child. And as much as she wanted to know why, this was not the time to try to dissect him. He was vulnerable in front of her—something she had never seen a Slytherin become. This trait wasn't in the books she read or in the conversations she heard. This was something completely different.
"Please don't tell them." He croaked. "If they find out, I won't be able to save her."
Despite everything she stood for, Hermione nodded. It was dangerous, what Theodore was doing. Holding his anger in, because it came out in a flood when he snapped. He didn't see how he was when he attacked Blaise, but she did. She was afraid of Theo in that moment. Ron and Neville barely wanted to touch him. But despite that, here he was begging her to keep his anger a secret. He was asking her to give up the opportunity to help him. And she didn't know why, but she was accepting his request.
"I won't tell."
Theodore sighed in relief.
"Only if you let me help you."
"You're a stubborn one, aren't you, Hermione?" He groaned. Hermione stuck out her chin, confirming that fact, and Theo knew he would have to give in.
"Deal."
/
Voldemort stared at the silver liquid swirling in the glass bottle. He refused to continue taking Quirrell's medicine, but he needed something to keep himself steady for the next few months. He made Lucius dig up some of his old black market contacts and got in touch with one Amycus Carrow. Carrow wore black robes, as many black market vendors did and he had a slick, long goatee. Voldemort picked up the bottle, examining the liquid closely.
"Unicorn Blood?" he asked casually, his eyes never leaving the bottle.
Carrow nodded. "Yes, my Lord. This batch was recently made, as well."
"And this will heal me?"
"Yes…..but"
Voldemort lowered the bottle, his eyes meeting the man across from him. "But what?"
Carrow swallowed. "You see, it has….side effects."
"As most Black Market items do." Answered Voldemort, seeming unbothered by the man's warning.
"Once you drink it, My Lord, you won't be able to stop." Carrow said sheepishly. "It can become addictive."
The Dark Lord set down the bottle, lacing his hands together. "That will be the least of my worries. I will have something more substantial by the end of June." He glanced back down at the bottle of Unicorn Blood. "For now, this will do."
The man across from him nodded. He rose from his seat to leave, but the look on Voldemort's face made him sit back down. Voldemort looked at the man intently, an idea sprouting into his mind. He felt his eyes boring into Carrow's skin, burning the very fabric of his robes. Carrow looked uneasy, unaware of what was about to happen next.
"Open it." Carrow almost shivered as the high-pitch voice of the Dark Lord rang through the silence of the room. He did as he was told, unscrewing the top of the bottle—unleashing a metallic aroma from the substance inside.
Voldemort took the bottle, raising it to his mouth. The feel of the glass was cold against his lips and he could see the metal liquid slowly sliding down as he began to drink it. The Unicorn Blood also had a metallic taste to it but was warm as it trickled down his throat. As soon as he swallowed the first drop, he felt his health instantly improve. He felt stronger, more powerful. His body no longer ached, he felt as if he could stand on his own again. But he couldn't put the bottle down, he had to finish the whole thing. The results were more satisfying than he had expected—better results than Quirrell's medicine had given.
He finished the last of the blood, gently sitting the bottle back on the table. He felt regenerated, he felt—free. It was now time to test his strength—to prove if these results were real, and not just a figment of his imagination. He pulled his wand out of his robes, becoming intrigued with the sharp grip he had on it—the magical energy surging through his veins. He felt as strong as he did those eleven years ago when he had the whole wizarding world at his command. He felt unstoppable. He needed more—he wanted more.
Voldemort slowly aimed his wand at the man sitting across from, watching his pupils grow wider with fear.
"My Lord."
"Crucio." He simply said.
There was an ear-splitting scream and Carrow collapsed on the floor. Voldemort ignored his muffled screams and groans of pain. He was too wrapped up in his returning power. Even after the curse, he still felt his magic radiating, ready for more. Why hadn't he done this earlier? He looked back to the glass bottle, now cursing himself internally for drinking the whole thing. He quickly rose from his study, walking over to the tortured man.
"Where can I get more?!" He asked, his voice at a dangerously low whisper.
Carrow looked at him as if he was mad, but winced when Voldemort pulled out his wand again. "The Forbidden Forrest," He said quickly. "At Hogwarts."
The Dark Lord felt his excitement wither away. Of course, something of this proportion would be at Hogwarts. Dumbledore always made sure substances and magical items such as Unicorn Blood were locked away in the walls of his beloved castle. He felt his reasoning becoming clouded, but he ignored it. He needed more of the metallic substance. And if Hogwarts was where he could find it, Hogwarts was where he would go.
/
Spring was starting to roll in, and the students of Hogwarts were beginning to prepare for exams. Everyone was given a piece of parchment from each one of their classes—stating what topics they needed to look over for their end of the year exams. Hermione took no time to color code her parchment—labeling topics that had already been covered in green, and topics that she needed to research in orange. None of the boys had even glanced at their parchment, seeing that exams were months away. But nonetheless, Hermione had convinced—or rather told—them to meet up in the library to begin on their DADA project. The bossy Gryffindor complained how they had been using all their time trying to solve the "Philosopher's Stone" mystery, that they had forgotten what led them there in the first place.
The six resided to their table near the back of the library. Hermione had sent Draco off to look for more books on magical stones, especially ones pertaining to the Philosopher's Stone and Nicolas Flamel. Theodore was looking through a book about dark magic and how it can be used through different objects. Neville was reading through September 1st's Daily Prophet, looking for anything that might pass as a motive for someone who wanted to steal the stone. Tobias and Ron were in charge of charming a piece of parchment so that it would become larger, but so far nothing. Ron kept making the parchment levitate, and the only spells Tobias knew were defense tactics.
"Here." Draco breathed out, dropping a pile of books on the table. The noise was so loud, the six were sure that Madam Pince would kick them out. But she only scolded them, mostly Draco, for not handling the books with care.
Hermione looked through the books, pleased that Draco was able to find some books they could use for the project. She divided the books up between her and the blonde Slytherin and they began their research. She looked up, smiling as all the boys were doing some type of work. She never thought she would see the day when Ron and Theodore actually took the time to do something productive. She was surprised when Draco opened one of the books and began reading it without protesting. Neville was doing something that didn't involve the risk of him hurting himself, and Tobias had found a task that he couldn't conquer. It felt weird watching them all do work, it felt unnatural.
"Okay. Stop." She said, causing the five boys to look at her.
"Oh thank Merlin," said Theodore, quickly closing the book and laying his head on the table. Hermione felt relieved that she hadn't really lost her mind.
"What's up, Granger?" Draco asked.
"It was just," She bit her lip, feeling embarrassed. "you all were doing work."
Tobias smirked. "Were not always lazy blokes."
"Yeah, Hermione." Ron said as he propped his legs on top of the work table. "We're aren't always lazy."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Come on, let's get to dinner."
"Guess I'll put these books back." Draco said, and he gathered all of them and walked back towards the bookshelves. But as he was returning the books to their respective places, he noticed someone sneaking through the library—someone who was too big to be a student.
"Hagrid?" He asked as he approached the gamekeeper.
Hagrid turned around quickly, hiding the books he just picked up behind his back. "Draco! What are yeh doing here?"
"I could ask you the same question." Draco raised an eyebrow. "What's behind your back?"
"Uhhh nothing." Hagrid lied. He tried to hide the books in his cloak, but Draco was too fast for him—his chaser skills kicking in. He snatched the books out of Hagrid's hands, hastily reading the covers.
"Dragons?!" He said, not realizing how loud he was speaking. Hagrid shushed him desperately, not wanting anyone to hear their conversation.
Draco lowered his voice. "Hagrid, why are you looking up Dragons?"
"Look." Hagrid said quickly, grabbing the books back and putting them in his cloak. "I'll explain everything at detention tonight. But 'til then, I need you to be quiet about this. Understand?"
Draco nodded, only agreeing to hush the subject because Hagrid kept looking around the library, checking to see if anyone heard them.
That night at detention, Draco and Tobias showed up at Hagrid's hut. Draco hadn't told Tobias about his discovery in the library, keeping his promise to Hagrid. When they entered, Draco felt like he would pass out any moment. It was scorching inside the hut—Hagrid had no windows opened, the curtains were closed, the door was locked. Draco felt he was literally in hell.
"Hagrid, any reason you decided to burn us to death tonight?" Tobias asked, removing his robe and his Slytherin sweater and throwing it aside.
"I was cold, is all." Hagrid said, fumbling with his fingers.
Draco sat there, wondering when Hagrid would come forward with the truth. But was becoming annoyed as Tobias unexpectedly chose to change the subject.
"Hagrid we know about the Philosopher's Stone." Tobias said it so straightforwardly, Hagrid almost fell out of his seat. Tobias ignored it and continued. "We know Fluffy is guarding it and we were wondering if you could tell us what else is guarding it as well."
Draco suddenly became intrigued. He had completely forgotten about the stone, so caught up in the dragons Hagrid had become so interested in. He sat back in his seat, watching the scene play out.
"I told you, it's top secret." Hagrid frowned. "Plus, you know too much already. To be honest, I don't know nothin'."
"You're lying." Draco said.
"You best to watch your tone with me, Malfoy." Hagrid tried to sound stern but huffed as the two boys seemed unconvinced.
Tobias undid his tie, throwing it aside with his other clothing. "You may not want to tell us, Hagrid. But you do know something. Besides, were not asking for technicalities, just simply wanting to know who else Dumbledore trusted to help guard the stone."
Hagrid sighed in frustration, he knew there was nothing he could say to the two Slytherins that would get them off his trail. "Fine. I s'pose telling yeh wouldn't hurt." Draco and Tobias beamed at his words. "Dumbledore borrowed Fluffy from me…. He got the teachers to set up enchantments—Professor McGonagall, Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick, Professor Snape."
"Snape?" The two boys said it at the same time.
"Yes, Snape." Hagrid said. "You two not still on that, are yeh? Boys, Snape is helping to protect the stone, there's no way he would be plottin' to steal it."
Tobias wasn't convinced, once again, but the heat from the hut distracted him once again, causing him to unbutton his oxford shirt. "Hagrid, can we please open a window? I'm literally boiling."
"Sorry, Tobias, but I can't do that." Said Hagrid as he looked towards the fire. Tobias and Draco looked too, noticing a huge kettle hanging above it. Something was in the inside—something huge and black… and circular. Draco's eyes grew wider at the sight of it.
"Hagrid, is that an egg?"
Hagrid began fumbling with his fingers again. "Well, ah. Yes, that is an egg."
"That's a dragon egg!" Tobias exclaimed, leaning over the table to get a closer look. "Where'd you get it?"
"I won it." Hagrid said proudly, quickly forgetting he was supposed to be hiding the fact he had a dragon egg in his hut. "Went to the pub last night and won it in a game o' cards against some chap. He was happy to get rid of it too, I think."
"So that's why you were in the library?" asked Draco. Hagrid nodded.
Tobias shook his head. "But what are you going to do when it hatches? You can't keep it here, it's against our laws!"
Hagrid frowned. "I bloody well can keep it here! That's why I've been in the library. I've been reading up on how to take care of it. I got the first part right." He pointed to the fire. "Keep the egg in the fire until it hatches, and when it does, feed it a bucket o' brandy and chicken blood every half hour. Doesn't seem so hard."
Tobias and Draco were absolutely dumbfounded by Hagrid's ignorance to this dragon. It was against the law to have one, yet raise one in a school. But leave it to Hagrid to find a way to make it work.
"And see here, I learned how to recognize different dragons by the egg patterns. This one's a Norwegian Ridgeback. Very rare."
Draco raised his fingers to his temple as if he had a headache. "Hagrid, you do realize you live in a wooden house?"
Hagrid wasn't listening.