Does the moron hear the words coming out of his mouth? He's about to send them into a forest where a unicorn killer is on the loose!
"What do we know about the Hufflepuff Seeker?" asks Ted.
"I don't even know his name," replies Zabini.
"Not a good sign, I guess."
It's already mid-February when everyone gathers in the stands of the Quidditch pitch. The atmosphere is tense; a victory for Gryffindor would mean they'd overtake Slytherin in the House Championship for the first time in seven years. Unfortunately, the Hufflepuffs aren't exactly known for their Quidditch performance, but Slytherin has a reason for hope: Professor Snape is the referee.
"Don't be so negative," says Tracey Davis, "they say Hufflepuffs are good at finding things."
Pansy Parkinson makes a scornful noise while flipping through a fashion magazine. She makes no secret of the fact that she couldn't care less about the games or the Quidditch Cup.
Since that evening at the Parkinsons', there has been some kind of truce between her and Draco. Which, of course, doesn't mean that he likes her now or stops making his midget jokes.
"Hey, is that thing broken?" Goyle mumbles, looking through his binoculars with a frown and starts to shake it.
Draco clicks his tongue. "Seriously, Goyle? You're holding them backwards, just like you did last time!"
Crabbe laughs stupidly.
"Well, I like Hufflepuffs," explains Daphne Greengrass. "Many of them signed Lisa's and my petition for a school choir, and some even wanted to join in. Oh, this is going to be fun, Dumbledore just has to agree to it!"
"Since when has Lisa been your best friend?" asks Millicent Bulstrode sharply.
"She isn't."
"You've never started a petition with me."
"Because you don't like singing!"
"It's a principle, best friends do everything together!"
While the two continue their argument, Neville Longbottom stumbles through the row of seats, stepping on several feet and sits down right in front of the Slytherins. Shortly after, Ron Weasley takes a seat next to him.
The other day, when Draco met Longbottom outside the library, he spontaneously felt like putting the Leg-Locker Curse on him. That whiner almost started crying when he hopped back down the corridor like a fat bunny and was laughed at by the other students.
There will always be someone laughing and someone getting laughed at. And if you're smart, you make sure to stay on the laughing side. That's just the way it is, no big deal.
When the game begins and fifteen brooms shoot into the air, Draco grabs Parkinson's magazine, rolls it up and hits him on the head while she's still protesting.
"Ouch!"
"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there," says Draco. "Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?"
But he is busy booing Snape, who was hit by a Bludger and awarded Hufflepuff a penalty.
"What are you booing at?" Davis yells indignantly. "That was a foul, man!"
"And what happened now?" Greengrass asks confused, when another penalty is awarded to Hufflepuff.
"Who knows," says Parkinson from behind her magazine. "Quidditch is stupid."
"You just have no idea," Zabini retorts. "Otherwise you might have noticed that the Gryffindor Chaser blagged the Hufflepuff Seeker."
"She did what?"
"Blagged," repeats Ted. "She grabbed his broomstick tail to slow him down."
Draco raises his voice. "You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team? 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."
With a radish-like complexion, Longbottom turns to him and stammers, "I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy."
Draco and the others howl with laughter.
"Longbottom, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something."
"I'm warning you, Malfoy - one more word -" Weasley shouts without taking his eyes off the game.
Suddenly, some spectators jump up from their seats. Potter seems to have spotted the Snitch, as he is diving towards the ground. The crowd cheers and moans alike.
"You're in luck, Weasley, Potter's obviously spotted some money on the ground!"
Now the redhead has had enough; he whirls around, lunging at Draco and pushing him to the ground.
"Don't touch me! GET OFF ME!" Draco yells.
Crabbe and Goyle grab Weasley by the shoulders, but someone stops them.
"Take that back, Malfoy!"
"Forget it!" Draco kicks him and is about to get up, when the red-haired scum grabs him by the collar and hits him with his fist.
Growling, Draco touches his aching eye. He was taught that physical fighting is a sign of low intelligence, but now he sees red - and pounds his fist against that long, freckled nose. With a groan, Weasley sinks to the ground next to the unconscious Longbottom, who was dumb enough to tangle with Crabbe and Goyle.
But all of a sudden, the crowd breaks out in jubilation and the commentator announces enthusiastically, "That must be a record, the Snitch has never been caught so quickly, barely five minutes after starting the game! Harry Potter did it again, Gryffindor wins and takes the lead in the battle for the Quidditch Cup!"
The Gryffindors cheer as Potter is carried on his teammates' shoulders.
"Oh please!" says Draco. "The fact that he now caught the Snitch with his hands is no reason to roll out the red carpet and throw him a parade!"
"But the catch was pretty good," Zabini admits. "Looks like Potter has some talent after all."
"Just shut up, would you?" Draco grumbles.
~.~.~
The anger about the lost game vanishes soon, however, as they all start - more or less motivated - to study for the exams in June. It comes in useful for Draco and the others, when Snape explains that, unfortunately, he can not tell them that brewing the Forgetfulness Potion will be part of his exam. But even without exam preparations, the first-years could easily fill their afternoons with the tons of homework the teachers give them.
Draco would have never believed what discovery he'd make that day, when, as always, everyone rushes into the Entrance Hall after breakfast.
"Well, look at this," Parkinson mutters next to him, nodding towards Granger, who whispers with Potter and Weasley. "Hermione finally made friends. The Muggle girl and the two weirdos. How fitting."
Draco screws his face up. "That teacher's pet is a Mudblood?"
"I wouldn't necessarily put it that way, but yes."
"Hermione!" Weasley says loudly, "how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?"
Wait.
"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble," Mudblood replies, "and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing -"
"Shut up!" Potter hisses with a furtive look at Draco, dragging them outside with him.
"Did you hear that?" Draco asks Parkinson, who has stopped as well.
"You mean the words dragon and hatching?"
"I'm going to Hagrid's hut and see what's going on there."
"We have Charms now," she reminds him.
"During the break, then."
"Hmm … I'm going too!"
"Hey you guys, what are you waiting for?" Ted calls to them from the marble staircase.
"Let's go," says Draco, adding urgently, "but don't tell anyone, or the whole school will gather down there."
An hour and a half later, after the Gryffindor trio went into the gamekeeper's hut, Draco follows them down the meadow, shouting over his shoulder, "Could you get a move on?"
Carefully, Parkinson puts one foot before the other, her eyes fixed on the ground. "I will not run," she replies. "The grass is wet and I don't want to slip; my coat is from Zion!"
Draco takes a deep breath and wonders why he didn't come here with Ted after all, until they finally reach the hut.
"Hard to imagine the giant living in this tiny hovel," he says mockingly. "Though it would be spacious for you, midget."
She ignores his comment. "Do you really think a nobody like Rubeus Hagrid owns a dragon egg?"
"Not really," Draco admits, "even on the black market they cost a fortune. Leaving aside that only a complete idiot would think of keeping a dragon in a wooden hut."
"And it's illegal, above all," she adds.
They walk quietly around the hut, past a pile of logs and a wheelbarrow with pumpkins, and discover a side window. The curtains aren't properly drawn so that one can see through a gap. They stand side by side on tiptoes.
"Wow." Draco squints his eyes. "The window hasn't been cleaned since it was put into this frame."
The inside of the hut, which consists of only one room, also looks grubby and dark. Ham and other pieces of meat hang from the ceiling, and huge plates and mugs as large as buckets are piled up in a sink.
Parkinson wrinkles her nose. "No wonder he's so fat."
The giant and his three little friends are sitting at a table, but when Draco notices what's on the table, he claps his hand over his mouth: a real, spark-breathing baby dragon surrounded by eggshells. It's black, has bat-like wings and small stubs of horns on its head.
"Galloping gargoyles!" the midget hisses.
"A Norwegian Ridgeback," Draco explains with a mixture of shock and fascination. Just like any other boy, he finds dragons very cool, but every child knows that they should only be admired from afar. Dragons are solitary, don't have any companions and certainly no masters taming them.
"Look at Weasley's dumb face," says Parkinson, giggling. "This creature is worth more than his whole family."
Draco throws her a side glance. "Do you know that you laugh like a three-year-old?"
But suddenly she gasps in surprise and ducks - Hagrid gets up and stares at Draco through the window. While she is hiding behind the hut, he steps back, almost stumbling over that stupid wheelbarrow and runs back to the castle as fast as he can.
~.~.~
The following week is full of ups and downs. This is pleasing:
That Weasley's hand was obviously bitten by Hagrid's new pet and looks like a rubber glove that has been inflated to twice its size.
That Madam Pomfrey gives Draco access to the hospital wing, because he pretends to borrow a book from Weasley to have a good laugh at him.
That, on his way out, a letter falls out of Weasley's book, revealing that he had hired someone named Charlie, to have the dragon picked up from the Astronomy Tower at midnight the next day.
This is annoying:
That Parkinson doesn't want to hear about a night hike through the castle, but tries to persuade him to tell Snape about the dragon.
That Draco doesn't listen to her, because he really wants to watch Potter and his friends getting a good telling-off and kicked out of Hogwarts.
That she is right about Draco getting caught - by that battle-axe McGonagall of all people, who not only takes twenty points from Slytherin, but also announces that he's going to serve a detention.
This is hilarious:
That the Gryffindors, who were also caught, lose 150 points and thus destroy any chance of the House Cup.
And finally, it comes to an incident that will haunt Draco's dreams for a long time …
~.~.~
"About time," says Filch grimly, as Potter, Longbottom and Granger, ten minutes late, walk into the Entrance Hall, where they were supposed to meet the caretaker at 11 PM for their detention (Draco, of course, showed up at 10:57 PM, not that anyone would've cared).
"Follow me." The Squib lights a lamp and leads them outside, while raving about times when torturing students was still commonplace. The way across the castle grounds leads them straight to Hagrid's hut, and shortly after, the gamekeeper's thunderous voice can be heard, "Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started."
So that's it. The only guy who broke the law here is going to supervise their detention, which wouldn't even take place without him. But except for Draco, no one seems to find this ridiculous. Quite the contrary, Potter beams when he hears Hagrid's voice.
Filch doesn't miss that either. "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, boy - it's into the Forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."
Draco stops dead in his tracks.
"The Forest?" he repeats in disbelief. "We can't go in there at night - there's all sorts of things in there - werewolves, I heard."
"That's your lookout, isn't it?" says Filch spitefully. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?"
At that moment, Hagrid emerges from the darkness, armed with a crossbow and accompanied by a large, drooling dog. An exchange of words between him and Filch follows, while Draco peers to the edge of the Forest in discomfort.
"I'll be back at dawn, for what's left of them," is the last thing Filch says before making his way back to the warm, bright and werewolf-free castle.
"I'm not going in that Forest," Draco says firmly. Longbottom whimpers something incomprehensible, but it sounds like approval.
"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts. Yeh've done wrong an' now yeh've got ter pay fer it."
The gamekeeper's face doesn't show the slightest remorse, but Draco doesn't give up. "But this is servant stuff, it's not for students to do. I thought we'd be writing lines or something. If my father knew I was doing this, he'd -"
"- tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts. Writin' lines! What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or yeh'll get out."
Well, you would know!
"If yeh think yer father'd rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an' pack. Go on!"
Draco would love to throw at him that he's lucky for not going to Azkaban after hatching a dragon egg! At the beginning of the school year, he rather would've gone to Durmstrang than to put up with something like this. But now the final exams are coming up, so he cannot risk an expulsion. And that's only half the story; his father might be a scary person, but when his mother gets angry, anyone would prefer the company of a fire-breathing dragon.
Draco swallows his anger and lowers his gaze.
Hagrid nods. "Right then, now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment."
They walk to the edge of the Forest, where the light of Hagrid's lantern reveals an earth track. It's cooler here, and it smells of moss and cedar wood.
"Look here," Hagrid grumbles, "'see that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday."
"Wha -"
"We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."
Does the moron hear the words coming out of his mouth? He's about to send them into a forest where a unicorn killer is on the loose!
"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" asks Draco, his voice in an upper frequency range now.
"There's nothin' that lives in the Forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang." Hagrid pats his dog. "An' keep ter the path. Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least."
"I want Fang!" Draco announces. If he has to go in there, he rather relies on an animal with long teeth than on this madman.
"All right, but I warn yeh, he's a coward."
Of course he is.
Hagrid instructs them to use their wands to send up green sparks when they find the unicorn, and red sparks in case of danger. Then the two groups leave in different directions; Hagrid with Potter and Granger, and Draco with Fang and Longbottom, whom he lets go first.
The Lumos Charm is hardly enough to drive out the darkness, until after a while, the moonlight shines through the clearing up treetops. However, it does not only illuminate the path, but also the shiny unicorn blood on the ground.
Longbottom looks concerned, and Draco can't help wondering who or what would hurt a unicorn. They embody purity and innocence, even their blood looks strangely beautiful. Killing a unicorn results in a cursed life from then on, something you learn as a child. This person would have nothing left to lose and probably no qualms about killing people as well.
Suddenly a branch crackles and Draco clings to Longbottom's shoulders, who sends up red sparks in panic.
"W-why did you d-do that?" he stammers, his chin trembling.
"Just wanted to test your reflexes," Draco lies.
There's a rustle in the undergrowth, before Hagrid's huge silhouette appears in front of them. "Are yeh two all right? What's goin' on?"
"Malfoy sneaked up from behind to scare me!"
Hagrid gives Draco an angry look and leads them to the path where he left the other two. "We'll be lucky ter catch anythin' now, with the racket you two were makin'. Right, we're changin' groups - Neville, you stay with me an' Hermione, Harry, you go with Fang an' this idiot."
"I'm definitely not the idiot here," Draco murmurs, but Hagrid doesn't hear it, as he's whispering something to Potter.
Part two of the wandering seems to stretch on forever to Draco, and he tries to convince himself that the unicorn blood is not getting thicker the deeper they go into the Forest. He must pull himself together; under no circumstances does he want to show weakness in the presence of his archenemy.
"You wait 'til my father hears about this - this is servant stuff!"
Potter suppresses a grin. "If I didn't know better, Malfoy, I'd say you were scared."
"Pah, scared … come on, Fang!"
But when they come to a clearing, Potter holds him back. "Look."
There it is, lying next to a fallen tree. Dead. The sad eyes slightly opened. And then, they hear a strange, croaking gurgle, until a figure appears from the edge of the clearing. It is wrapped in a black cloak, crawling towards the unicorn in unnatural, jagged movements.
Fang whimpers softly and the boys don't move a muscle, while the eerie creature bends over the carcass to suck the blood out of the wound with a loud slurping.
A scream cuts the air, and seconds later, Draco realises it's coming out of his own throat. And then he starts running, terrified and without looking back. To hell with Potter, he just wants to get out of here!
He reaches the edge of the Forest with relief, but he doesn't think about slowing down. Not even when he's back in the castle's Entrance Hall, jumping down the stairs to the dungeon. He only stops when he runs into a figure in one of the corridors, and his heart skips a beat.
"Professor!"
"You're back late," says Snape.
"There was a dead unicorn," Draco gasps, "and then this thing came, wearing a cloak. It drank the blood of the unicorn!"
"What are you talking about?"
"The detention in the Forbidden Forest! What's going on inside Hagrid's ugly head? And how could McGonagall let this happen?"
"You've been sent into the Forest?" Snape asks suspiciously.
Draco stares at him. "Yes!"
"All right, go to bed now. I'll clarify the matter tomorrow."
"Oh no, they won't get away with that, I'm sending an owl to my parents tonight -"
"You'll do nothing of the sort," replies Snape. "Otherwise, your parents come to know that their son is losing house points because he's strolling the castle at night and fantasising about dragons."
"But -"
"I assure you that I will speak to Professor Dumbledore about this incident. So go back to the dormitory!"
Draco's head is filled with all sorts of thoughts as he lies in his bed moments later. He stares at the canopy, wondering if Potter somehow made it out of the Forest safely. But that guy is always incredibly lucky, so why not today? He was probably saved by someone or something, and then asked for an autograph.
But Draco honestly hopes that Potter wasn't eaten by the hooded monster, otherwise he might go down in history as the boy who lived, until Draco Malfoy abandoned him. And he has really no desire for that.