Chapter 16: Dragon on the Tower
Draco's first instinct was to go to Snape, McGonagall, or even Dumbledore about the dragon. He had the opportunity to talk to McGonagall next lesson, but hesitation overtook him. Herbology after lunch gave Draco a view of Hagrid's hut. Smoke billowed out of the chimney. It had to be a million degrees in there. Sweat dripped off Draco's nose in one of the greenhouses, even with a hatch open nearby.
By dinner, Draco still had not told anyone that there was a dragon on school grounds. Potter, Weasley, and Granger looked a little paler than usual. They didn't spend any extra time at the Gryffindor table than what was necessary to eat. Draco stared at them when they made to leave. They were all very determined not to look in his direction. However, Potter couldn't seem to resist. When his and Draco's gazes met, Draco let a broad smile emerge.
He feigned that his stomach still hurt so that he could go to bed early. Draco laid there alone in the dark, thinking over his options.
Father had told Draco that Hagrid was expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, but was still here because Dumbledore had kept him on as groundskeeper. Was this a common occurrence, Hagrid getting his hands on a creature like a dragon and trying to raise it in his hut?
It couldn't be. Draco had lots of storybooks back home that featured dragons. His two favourite series were written by an actual Dragonologist in Sweden. This bloke wrote them as realistically as he knew how to, about how they grew to fifty feet in length, had no loyalty to anything but their young offspring, and were just smart enough to never be tamed. This had to be the first time Hagrid ever attempted it. The Forbidden Forest might be big, but Draco had never heard anything about dragons living in there. They needed a proper reserve, and proper handlers. They couldn't be this close to where people lived, and certainly not children.
If this was Hagrid's first attempt at that, then he wasn't likely to give it up easy. It didn't matter how wrong he had to know it was—not just possessing an illegal beast, but trying at all to own something that needed to be wild and free.
Just for knowing about it, Potter, Weasley, and Granger could be expelled. They might even have to answer to someone at the Ministry as to why they aided Hagrid, a grown-up who should know better. This could be the end of all four of them. Potter would have to go back to the Muggles, and the Gryffindor Quidditch team would be without a Seeker again. Weasley could fulfill his dream of becoming groundskeeper of Hogwarts with the position open after Hagrid went to Azkaban. Granger could go be annoying somewhere else in the world, far away from Draco.
And yet. . .
Draco slept on it. His hesitation still remained in the morning. As soon as he told anybody, the power he held over the lot of them would disintegrate. Draco stewed in it, especially during Potions lesson. Potter, Weasley, and Granger all looked nervous wrecks—almost worse than Quirrell. Whenever any of them made eye contact with Draco across the dungeon, he made sure to smile in a sickeningly-reassuring way.
Later that evening in the common room, Nott leaned over the back of the sofa Draco was sitting on. "Hey, a word?"
Draco followed him to the dorm. They were alone.
"What's up?" he asked.
"Before you have kittens or anything about what I'm going to ask, I just want to say that I'm not teasing you about it," Nott said. "That's why I'm asking in private."
Regardless, Draco braced himself. "Asking what?"
"All day and yesterday, you've been acting a little funny. I know what you're like when you have a secret. It's got something to do with Potter. I've seen you staring at him. I'm not asking if you fancy him—" Nott said quickly when Draco opened his mouth to preemptively and vehemently deny that, "—just if something happened. Did Flint put you up to it?"
"Flint?" Draco frowned.
"You know, to sabotage Gryffindor for their match against Ravenclaw." Nott paused. "It's not friendly, whatever it is. Potter's not happy, and you're way too happy. Did you find something out about him? Catch him doing something he shouldn't be?"
Draco chewed on his bottom lip. "Both, I suppose."
"What is it?"
"I can't say," Draco replied. "Not until I decide what to do."
"Could he get in serious trouble?"
"Very serious."
"So why haven't you told anyone? What's holding you back?"
Draco folded his arms and paced a few steps. "It's something that's going to blow up in his face soon enough. I don't really have to tell anyone. As long as I don't, I have him under my thumb."
"You were trying to get him expelled before Christmas." Nott took a seat on his bed. "What happened to that?"
Draco considered Nott's tone. This question came strictly from curiosity. "Well, I suppose I've been a little too busy to think about him, what with my grandfather dying."
"Right." Nott shifted a little. "So what's stopping you now? He could be out of here before you have to deal with him next year in Quidditch. Gryffindor would need a new Seeker again."
Since Nott had clearly learned his lesson about being a prat when it came to Potter, this felt like a safe place to think aloud.
"Do you remember when we first rode the train here?" Draco asked, standing in front of Nott. "When Goyle was bitten by that rat of Weasley's?"
Nott nodded.
"I put my hand out to Potter before that happened," Draco said. "I told him I could help him find which sorts are worth mixing with. It didn't exactly work out for him, did it? Trying that all on his own?"
"Er. . ." Nott shrugged. "That depends on what he's done."
"Right." Draco was being careful not to mention the dragon. "Well, it didn't. The friends he's made. . .it's not really me that would get him into trouble if I told someone what I know. Potter's already in trouble because of his friends."
"Okay," Nott slowly said. "I get what you're saying. Are you still thinking Potter's worth being friends with?"
"I planned to make him my friend way back in summer," Draco confided. "I asked my father if it would be a good thing. You know what it's been like for our families after the Dark Lord died. We all got left out in the cold. But how could anyone look at our families like we're scum if I—and you, Crabbe, and Goyle as well—were friends with Harry Potter? The Boy Who Lived, and all that?"
Nott had a serious look to him. That whole thing had definitely been easier for the Malfoys because of their status and wealth prior to the war. Whatever difficulties Draco's family had were multiplied by about ten for the Notts, Crabbes, and Goyles.
"So just leave it to me," Draco told him. "I'll sort it out. I only need time to think about how."
"Are you sure you don't need help, or anything?" Nott asked. "And. . .should you even be the one to do it?"
"What do you mean?"
"I don't think Potter likes you, for all the stupid stuff you do back and forth to each other."
"That's why it would need to start with me," Draco said. "If it was you that dealt with the entire thing, Potter might get cold feet since he wouldn't know what to do with me. He doesn't know you, anyway. Have you ever even talked to him?"
Nott shook his head.
"If he and I get on all right, then the rest of you are easy. Well, Crabbe and Goyle might be tough since they've cracked their knuckles at him a few times, but we could cross that bridge once we get there. Besides, Potter knows I know what they're up to. He won't relax until he knows I'm not going to tip anyone off about it."
Nott hummed. "Yeah, I see your point."
"I'm sure Potter thinks I absolutely hate him." Draco folded his arms and went back to pacing. "Honestly, I thought at first that it was true. I have far too much fun poking at him, though. That feeling could very well be mutual. He can be a real smartarse, can't he?"
At that, Nott snorted. "Imagine the potential of him, under your wing."
Draco smirked, for he could imagine it—rather easily, at that.
"I'll leave you to it, then," Nott told Draco. "If you need help with anything, though—or even just want to bounce ideas—you can trust me."
Draco figured he probably could. He hadn't gone into that conversation with it in mind what benefit Nott might take from the whole situation, but that didn't make it any less true.
Still, Draco was determined to sort this out on his own. It made homework very hard to focus on through the weekend. Draco's goals kept floating about his mind: make Potter grateful that Draco kept his mouth shut. Find a way to bridge the gap between them that didn't come off in a threatening manner. Don't let anyone on about the dragon. Find a way to drive a wedge between Potter and Weasley, Granger, and Hagrid.
It all made for a tall order. What about pulling Potter aside and just telling him that the secret was safe? But then, whenever Hagrid was caught, that might involve Draco if any of them said he too had known about it. His current silence, even if Potter didn't trust it, spoke for itself.
A turn of events came about on Thursday.
Draco's second lesson, Charms, was taken with the Ravenclaws. Ravenclaw did Herbology with the Gryffindors first thing in the morning. Some conversation from across the aisle caught Draco's ear.
". . .some sort of bite," Corner was saying to Boot and Goldstein. "Looked right nasty. He ought to have gone to the hospital wing."
A lack of name led Draco to assume they discussed Potter. At lunch, though, it was Weasley that looked in pain at the Gryffindor table. Potter and Granger both talked at him, while Weasley stubbornly shook his head.
He must have changed his mind, because he wasn't with Potter and Granger when Draco saw them later. Thoughts rushing, Draco stood up bare moments after he'd gotten comfortable in the common room with Crabbe and Goyle.
"Start without me," he told them. "I forgot something."
Draco headed up to the hospital wing. He'd barely put a toe over the threshold when Madam Pomfrey stepped in front of him.
"And what might you need?" she demanded, her gaze roaming over him. "You don't look sick or injured."
"I was told Ronald Weasley is here," Draco said in an innocent tone. "We have a project due tomorrow—Potions."
"He's in no condition to be doing that sort of schoolwork."
"That's fine, I just need his notes then," Draco replied, thinking fast. "I can do it by myself. You know what Professor Snape is like. He won't let us off for anything."
Madam Pomfrey sniffed. "I suppose, then. But you make it quick."
With his back to her, Draco let himself grin. He sauntered over to the only occupied bed. The curtains were closed around it. He felt about for the break in them. Weasley looked up when he stepped through. Draco almost laughed at how quickly Weasley's curious expression fell into loathing. From there, as he hid his swollen hand underneath the forearm opposite, he turned tentative.
"All right there, Weasley?" Draco asked.
"What do you want?" Weasley ground out.
Draco took a seat in the chair. He put his feet up on the bed, which made Weasley scowl, but he couldn't reach with his good hand to push them off. "I heard you got bit by something. Must have been quite nasty. I was concerned."
"Yeah right," Weasley muttered under his breath. "Go away."
Draco ignored him, studying the bandages on Weasley's right hand. "It doesn't look as if the swelling's gone down at all. I've seen what Madam Pomfrey can do with animal bites, you know. It only takes a moment, really. . .so long as she knows what she's treating."
Weasley went still.
"She does know what she's treating?" Draco asked. "Doesn't she?"
"Is this what you've come for?" Weasley said. "To blackmail me?"
"Why would I do that?" Draco used that innocent tone again, studying his fingernails. "It isn't as if you have any money, if I wanted to be bought off. I have enough of my own, anyway."
"So, what then? Just get to the point, Malfoy."
"Well, in case you haven't noticed, you've yet to be expelled along with Potter and Granger, and Hagrid hasn't got the sack."
"And?"
"So I haven't told anyone."
"Wow." Weasley rolled his eyes. "What would we ever do without you?"
"Bring shame to your families, I suppose," Draco coolly said. "Or, for Potter and Granger, be shipped back to live among the Muggles. Or take a nice visit to the North Sea, if you're Ha—"
The curtain was wrenched open so suddenly and with such a loud screech of rings against rod that Draco jumped.
"You're still here!" Madam Pomfrey snapped at him. "I told you, make it quick! Take the book you came for and go!"
"Yeah, go away, Malfoy," Weasley said.
With a sneer, Draco grabbed the top one off the pile next to Weasley. He was halfway across the hospital wing when a "Hey!" rang out behind him. Before Weasley could say any more than that, Madam Pomfrey was wrestling him back down against the bed.
Well, that hadn't gone how Draco wanted it to. It was going all right until Madam Pomfrey shooed him away. Draco had at least made his point that he was capable of keeping the dragon to himself.
He carried Weasley's book under his arm. As he reached the dungeons, he felt something brush his fingers. It pattered softly against the stone floor.
A folded note had fallen out from between the pages. Draco picked it up to read. Then, eyes wide, he read it again.
Draco only had two days to sort it out before this opportunity would be gone.
Anything to do with Weasley, Granger, and Hagrid was out of Draco's reach unless he took the note he'd found to a teacher. He kept it in his pocket, just in case it became a necessity. Draco also didn't want anyone else to read it.
As Saturday advanced, Draco's nerves increased. The only ones who looked more nervous were Potter and Granger at the Gryffindor table.
Looking across the Great Hall at them, a strange feeling overcame Draco. Maybe Potter didn't realize it, but they were now in league. Undoubtedly Potter remained on edge that, at any moment, Draco would turn him in. He knew where Potter would be at midnight, after all.
Draco stood when he'd finished eating dinner. He poked Nott in the shoulder and jerked his head toward the Entrance Hall. Draco waited for him a few steps down toward the dungeons.
"What's up?" Nott asked when he found him.
"I have to deal with all this Potter business tonight." With his shoulder leaned on the wall, Draco folded his arms. "I need you to cover for me in the dorm. I can't be seen leaving the common room, otherwise the prefects might come looking. I'm heading to where I need to be right now."
"How do I cover?"
"Just close my curtains. Say I'm not feeling well and don't want to be bothered. Don't say much more than that, otherwise the prefects will get suspicious why you're making such a story about it."
"Yeah, okay." Nott nodded jerkily. "But just so you know, if somebody looks and asks why you're not there, I don't know anything."
"Good enough." Draco lightly snorted. "Honestly, if everything works out the way it ought to, detention might be worth it."
Nott tilted his head as he studied Draco. "Now you know what you're doing, no chance you'll tell me what's going on? I'm not going to tell. I'm just curious. Really curious. I've seen how nervous Potter and Granger are. It must be something really bad."
Draco ran his bottom lip between his teeth. He'd been bursting to tell someone, and Nott had proven himself trustworthy by not breathing a word to anyone in the last week. Draco would know if he had. Anyone that paid one iota of attention would see how often Potter and Granger went out to visit Hagrid. Hagrid himself hadn't been at meals in the Great Hall since the dragon hatched.
"It's a dragon," Draco said.
Nott's eyes bulged. "A—" he lowered his voice, "—a dragon? Like a living, breathing one?"
Draco nodded. "Potter's going to have it tonight. One of Weasley's older brothers works with them. Some of his friends are going to be picking it up, and then it'll be gone. But I'm going to catch Potter with it first."
"And do what, exactly?"
Draco couldn't suppress his smirk if he wanted to. "Help."
Draco took some time before curfew to wander around the seventh-floor below the Astronomy tower. Mrs Norris came along around eight o'clock. Filch wasn't very far behind.
His scowl lessened as he scrutinized Draco. Mrs Norris meowed while she rubbed her side against Filch's leg.
"Evening, sir," Draco greeted Filch. "All right?"
"Bit out of your way, in't you, Malfoy?" Filch asked.
"A bit, I suppose." Draco shrugged and went back to looking out the window he sat beside. "I like the fresh air up here. Don't worry—I'll be back in the dungeons before curfew."
Filch carried on, leaving Draco alone to revel in how well this all went so far. He headed for the toilet down the corridor right before nine, and then curled in behind a suit of armour.
Draco pointed his wand at himself. He hadn't been close to perfecting a Disillusionment Charm given the time constraint, but he could at least conceal himself enough to be mistaken for a shadow so long as he didn't move.
The hours crept by. Draco had to keep his mind active to avoid falling asleep, not that he really thought he was capable of it when he was so physically uncomfortable. He entertained himself with thoughts of how the conversation would go once he and Potter came toe-to-toe: shame Weasley couldn't make it. Looks like a lot to deal with on your own. . .Either shut up, Malfoy, or take the lead for a while. I hope you know if you're caught here, you'll be in as much trouble as me. . .Is this how you thank me, Potter? In case you haven't noticed, it's that Hagrid that got you in trouble in the first place. And here I am, the only one to help you get out of it. . .Keep quiet and come on, then. . .
As it came on quarter to midnight, Draco felt suddenly wide awake. His heart picked up and his breath started coming a little quicker. Any moment now. . .
Draco went stiff when he heard footsteps. They moved slowly—almost leisurely—in his direction. His heart ramped up to a pound as they neared. Taking a deep breath when they were only a few feet away, Draco dropped what little of his last cast Disillusionment Charm remained. He stepped out, met eyes with Professor McGonagall, and gasped along with her.
He tried to run, but a vice-like grip closed on his upper arm. Draco nearly pulled Professor McGonagall to the floor as he stumbled. He cried out when his ear was wrenched.
"Detention!" Professor McGonagall snapped. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night! How dare you—!"
"You don't understand, Professor!" Draco's mind raced along with his heart, but he couldn't see any way out of this now. "Harry Potter's coming. He's got a dragon—"
"What utter rubbish!" Professor McGonagall practically spat as she marched him toward the nearest staircase. "How dare you tell such lies! Come on. I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!"
"Ow—ow, I can walk on my own!" Draco winced. "Professor—I have proof, please, it's just in my pocket. Please just let me show you. Potter's going to be on the Astronomy tower at midnight. Please."
"I sincerely doubt that. And with a dragon, no less!" Finally, she let Draco go. "You keep pace with me, Malfoy. Run off, and there won't be a single emerald in Slytherin's hour-glass come morning."
"I'm not going to run off," Draco said more impatiently than he meant to. "I wouldn't come up here for nothing. Just hold on. . ."
Professor McGonagall wouldn't slow on their way back through the castle. Draco had to mind his steps while digging for the note. His stomach dropped when he couldn't find it anywhere. He couldn't possibly have lost it, could he?
"A dragon," Professor McGonagall was saying under her breath. "Honestly, of all things. How would Harry Potter get a dragon? Not only could he never have snuck such a thing into the castle, how would he have even gotten it in the first place? Absolutely preposterous."
"If you would just go back to the Astronomy tower—"
"I will not." Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared. "Sorry as I am to say this, Malfoy, I am not so gullible."
Draco gaped at her. "I'm not gullible! I saw it with my own eyes! Hagrid hatched it in his hut."
"So now it's Hagrid's dragon."
"Professor—"
"Where's that proof you were on about, then?"
"I. . ." Draco nearly wanted to cry. "I can't find it. Professor, I must have dropped it up where I was hiding—"
"Nice try. We are not going back."
All right. Maybe Draco did want to cry. He couldn't believe it was possible to be this frustrated, and that Professor McGonagall wouldn't even entertain the idea. Then again, if Draco hadn't seen that stupid leathery pile of evil through Hagrid's window—if he hadn't read the note confirming what it was, and when it would be leaving—he probably wouldn't believe it either.
By the time they reached the ground floor, Draco was sniffling. He wiped surreptitiously at his eyes as Professor McGonagall knocked with increasing demand at Snape's personal quarters. Draco stared at his feet when the door opened.
"Yours," Professor McGonagall snapped. "I caught him up by the Astronomy tower."
"Just now?" Snape asked.
"Just now."
Draco tucked his chin more against his chest. He could feel the two of them looking at him.
"I'll take it from here," Snape said. "Come inside, Malfoy."
If Draco didn't feel so very sorry for himself, he might have marvelled at the fact that Professor Snape owned a piece of clothing that wasn't black. His dressing-gown was navy blue.
"I already got detention," Draco mumbled. "And Professor McGonagall took twenty points off Slytherin."
"What were you doing up at the Astronomy tower?" Snape asked.
Draco tried again to find the note somewhere in his pockets. It had to be here. How could it not be? "I was going to catch Potter with a dragon, sir. I swear he had one. I had a note written to Weasley from his older brother. Some of his friends were going to pick it up tonight at midnight."
"Why didn't you just tell a teacher?" Snape replied. "Where did Potter get a dragon?"
"You believe me, then?" Draco's head snapped up.
Snape's upper lip curled. "It wouldn't be the first instance of Potter proving himself an imbecile."
Hope might have renewed within Draco if he could find the stupid note. He triple- and quadruple-checked his pockets, then sighed. "I must have dropped it upstairs. Professor McGonagall wouldn't go back. She thought I was trying to pull one on her."
Snape hummed. "Unfortunately, if you dropped something in the middle of the night, it's very unlikely to be recovered. The house-elves will have made rid of it during their cleaning routine."
Draco's face fell along with the slump in his shoulders. That was it, then. He had no proof. The note was gone, and the dragon would be too, by now.
"But you believe me, right?" Draco asked.
Snape tilted his head this way and that. "I would certainly like to, Malfoy. Proof would be helpful. If you have any, any at all, I won't hesitate to look into it."
Draco's mind raced again. "You could poke around Hagrid. It was his dragon. Potter was just delivering it to the tower."
"I'll do that," Snape said. "I don't believe you would be out of bed for no reason. You have more sense than that. I don't understand why you didn't go to a teacher—or to Dumbledore—about the dragon while it was somewhere fit to be discovered. Why wait until now?"
Gaze averted again, Draco's cheeks flushed. It all seemed very stupid. He should have known better than to trust such a high stakes situation as a way to slide into Potter's good graces. Now being the worst time for it, Draco remembered what advice Snape had imparted the first night here: Forget about Harry Potter. He isn't worth your time.
Snape sighed. "Go to bed, Malfoy."