Chapter 8
November 2nd, 1994
Malfoy’s demeanor was off today. In every class, not a single insult, hex, or even a snide remark escaped his lips. He sat in uncharacteristic silence, speaking only in low tones to Zabini and Nott. Occasionally, he’d issue a curt command to Crabbe and Goyle to do some menial task, but that was the extent of his interaction. It was unsettling, seeing Draco Malfoy—of all people—so subdued.
Harry couldn’t help but notice the change. Maria’s brief disappearance had clearly impacted more than just Malfoy; Zabini and Nott seemed unusually quiet. Harry had never realized how deep their bond ran, how close their friendship truly was. But after being on the receiving end of Malfoy’s anger in the courtyard yesterday, it became clear—this was more than just a friendship. Their connection went deeper than he had imagined.
Earlier, Harry watched the trio of Slytherins hurry through their lunch, he realized they were eating as if they had somewhere urgent to be. In no time, they were out of the Great Hall, leaving their half-finished plates behind.
Probably visiting Maria in the hospital wing, Harry thought at the time. He couldn’t quite place the emotion that twisted in his gut—jealousy? Bitterness?
Without Ron to talk to, Harry felt more alone than ever. After his name had been pulled from the Goblet of Fire, Ron had accused him of somehow cheating, of manipulating his way into the tournament. Harry had denied it over and over, but Ron didn’t believe him.
They hadn’t spoken in two days.
A thought crossed Harry’s mind, sharp and sudden. He would visit Maria after class ended. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but maybe he needed to clear the air, to tell her it wasn’t him who spread the word about her fainting in the corridor last week. Just that—nothing more. Right?
As Herbology class ended, Harry bid Hermione goodbye and quickly gathered his things. Normally, Maria would be in this class, partnered with Neville, bringing out the more talkative side of him. But today, Neville was quiet.
With a determined pace, Harry made his way through the castle. The walls seemed to shift and move with his quickening steps, but he paid little attention to them. It wasn’t until he found himself standing in front of the Hospital Wing’s tall doors that he realized how fast he had been walking. His pulse quickened as he paused.
What if she’s sleeping? What if Malfoy is there? What if all of them—Malfoy, Zabini, and Nott—are by her side? The thought of turning around and leaving crossed his mind. The last thing he wanted was to walk into a situation that would make him look foolish. Or worse—like he cared too much.
Before he could think twice, Harry pushed open the doors quietly, slipping inside. His eyes quickly scanned the room. Maria laid in the same bed she had occupied a few days ago, farthest to the left. But it wasn’t her Slytherin friends by her side. Instead, Dumbledore and Snape stood at her bedside, speaking in hushed tones.
Harry froze for a second. Dumbledore and Snape?
He hesitated, unsure whether to interrupt, but Maria spotted him before he could decide.
Her eyes lit up in recognition, and she gave him a small wave, gesturing to him to walk towards her. Dumbledore and Snape turned their attention toward Harry as well, their conversation halting.
“Ah, Harry,” Dumbledore greeted once Harry reached them, his blue eyes twinkling. “What brings you here?”
Harry’s face flushed as he realized he hadn’t exactly thought this through. Sure, he wanted to see if Maria was feeling better, but now that he was standing in front of her, that reason seemed flimsy. His mind scrambled for an explanation.
“I, uh—I came to drop off notes from our classes. Since you weren’t there today,” Harry said quickly, pulling out his folded parchment. It wasn’t a lie, technically.
Maria smiled warmly, though her gaze shifted to a neat stack of notebooks and parchments already on her side table. “Thanks, Harry, but Draco and Neville already brought me a copy of their notes earlier. You just missed them, actually.”
“Malfoy and Neville?” Harry’s confusion must have been plain on his face because Dumbledore chuckled softly.
“Yes, quite the unexpected duo, wasn’t it?” Dumbledore said, glancing at Snape with amusement. “It was a surprise to see Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Longbottom getting along so well. Even for us, wouldn’t you say, Severus?”
Snape’s expression didn’t shift much—his usual mask of indifference firmly in place. But there was a slight arch of his eyebrow, a tiny crack in the façade. “Yes, Headmaster,” Snape replied in his silken tone. “A surprise, indeed.”
Harry blinked, still trying to picture Malfoy and Neville in the same room, let alone amicably exchanging notes. Was the world suddenly upside down?
Maria, noticing Harry’s bewilderment, spoke again. “Draco wasn’t awful about it, surprisingly. He didn’t hex anyone, if that’s what you’re wondering. They were in and out in no time.” Her tone was light, as if trying to ease Harry’s tension.
Harry scratched the back of his head, feeling somewhat foolish for his assumptions. “I wasn’t really thinking that, but now that you mention it…”
Maria laughed softly. “Things have been strange lately.”
Dumbledore cleared his throat gently. “Well, we should leave Miss PenDragon to rest. Severus and I will be back later tonight to discuss more about the current issues.”
She nodded, politely saying goodbye to Snape and Dumbledore.
"Glad to see you're doing alright," Harry said and Maria smiled at him.
"Thank you, Harry."
She waved goodbye before he walked away and she sighed. Physically, she was doing okay. But mentally? No. Her mind is more scarred than ever after her dream—vision as Dumbledore liked to call it. It left many questions in her head and they were all unanswered.
Maria grabbed the bottle of dreamless sleep on her side table and chugged it down, as per Madam Pomfrey’s instructions. She didn't want nightmares or the chance of dreaming. She just wants to wake up many hours later.
As she snuggled into her blanket, her eyes began to droop until they closed, leaving her to rest.
November 22nd, 1994
“They look far too happy.”
“I think they’re just enjoying the weather. Lighten up, Draco.”
As November drew to a close, students were eager to soak in the last bit of autumn’s warm air before winter settled over Hogwarts. Groups could be seen scattered across the grounds—some studying in clusters, others strolling around the castle’s vast perimeter, while Blaise and Theo basked lazily in the midday sunlight of the main courtyard.
As of lately, Maria’s spirits had been high. Though she remained quiet about her new private lessons with Snape and the weekly meetings with Dumbledore, she had started smiling again—just like she used to around the boys. Draco, for one, was quietly relieved to see her looking more like herself.
Today, however, Draco was not relieved, he was annoyed at the heat. Scowling, he tugged at his tie as if it were choking him. “Bloody weather,” he muttered under his breath. It was unnaturally warm for the end of November, the sun beating down as though it had forgotten the season.
Maria, sitting beside him, chuckled. “Maybe ditch the cloak like the rest of us? Black absorbs the sunlight, creating heat. You’re practically asking to melt.”
Grumbling, Draco unclasped the silver pin fastening his cloak and shrugged it off. It was a slight relief, but not enough. With an irritated sigh, he rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, trying to escape the relentless warmth.
“My father is on his way to Hogwarts today. He’ll be arriving an hour before midnight,” Maria said casually, not lifting her eyes from the notebook she was sketching in.
Draco paused, narrowing his eyes as he turned to look at her fully. It wasn’t like Maria to drop important news so nonchalantly. Yet, she carried on drawing as though she hadn’t just said something that piqued his interest.
“What?” he asked, his tone filled with curiosity.
She glanced at him sideways, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “He’s coming on business for the school. His letters were annoyingly vague, trying not to give away too much, but I think I’ve figured it out.”
Draco’s brow furrowed. “And what is that?”
Leaning in, Maria’s voice dropped to a whisper. Her sudden closeness took Draco by surprise, though he realized just how little distance there had been between them on the stone bench to begin with. “Triwizard Tournament business. The first task is in two days, and my father just happens to be arriving? Either he’s here to brew potions for the Champions or…he’s bringing something for the tournament. Think about it.”
Her eyes gleamed with excitement, and Draco leaned back, putting some space between them as the realization sank in. She nudged his side playfully and continued her sketching, as if her words hadn’t just sent his mind reeling.
“That’s impossible,” Draco drawled, though a note of doubt crept into his voice. “Your father isn’t bringing—there’s no way he’s bringing…dragons, is there?”
Maria’s laugh rang out like a small, silvery bell. “He’s letting me see them tonight. Want to come along?”
Draco blinked, completely taken aback. “What about curfew?”
She raised an eyebrow, the corner of her lips quirking up in amusement. “Since when have you ever cared about curfew, Draco?”
“Did someone say curfew?” Theo’s voice rang out as he sat up from his position on the grass.
Draco and Maria shared a look before shaking their head at the brunette.
He eyed them for a second before lying back down, resuming his quiet conversation with Blaise.
As midnight crept closer, Maria slipped silently out of the Gryffindor common room. The Fat Lady stirred as Maria carefully closed the portrait behind her, grumbling about “students using her frame at all hours.” But soon enough, the painting’s guardian settled back into her usual soft snores.
The castle was eerily quiet at this hour, the only sounds the faint crackle of distant torches and the occasional shifting of the enchanted suits of armor. Maria’s heart pounded with excitement as she descended the stairs, her footsteps light against the stone.
Halfway down, she spotted Draco coming up from the direction of the dungeons, his face half-obscured by the shadows of the flickering wall sconces.
“Draco!” she whisper-shouted, leaning over the banister, trying to catch his attention.
He glanced up, and though he tried to keep his usual expression, Maria could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as she gestured eagerly for him to hurry.
“Hurry up!” she urged, her voice barely above a whisper.
Draco sighed, shaking his head in mock exasperation, though he quickened his pace, his shoes barely making a sound against the stone floor as he approached her.
When he finally reached the base of the stairs, Maria grinned at him, her eyes gleaming with mischief under the dim light of the torches. “Come on, let’s go,” she whispered, barely able to contain her excitement as she led the way, her movements quick and deliberate.
They slipped through the darkened corridors, avoiding any sounds that might hint at the approach of a wandering prefect on patrol or Filch’s cat, Mrs. Norris. The castle felt different at night—more alive, as if it held secrets waiting to be uncovered, hiding in every darkened alcove and twisting staircase.
Draco walked beside Maria in silence, though he cast her an occasional sideways glance. “You’re really sure about this, aren’t you?” he muttered, his tone a mix of curiosity and reluctance.
Maria grinned. “Would I have dragged you out of bed if I wasn’t?”
He chuckled softly, though there was a nervous edge to it. “If we get caught—”
“We won’t,” she interrupted, her confidence unwavering. “You’re never scared of getting in trouble anyway.”
Draco raised an eyebrow but said nothing further, trusting her as he always had.
Maria and Draco exited the castle and began to creep quietly across the grounds, the silhouette of the Forbidden Forest casting dark shadows beneath the light of the full moon. As they neared the forest’s edge, two figures stood in quiet conversation—one hulking and unmistakable, the other smaller but carrying an air of quiet authority.
“That oaf,” Draco mumbled, scowling as he recognized Hagrid’s massive form.
“Be nice, Draco,” Maria whispered sharply. “He’s done nothing to you.”
Draco huffed but said nothing more. As they drew closer, the two men turned toward them. Roland PenDragon, his broad shoulders framed against the night sky, smiled warmly at the sight of his daughter. Beside him, Hagrid gave a friendly wave, though his eyes flicked curiously between Maria and Draco.
“Darling,” Roland greeted, pulling Maria into a tight embrace. His hands rested firmly on her shoulders as he kissed her forehead, his tone soft.
“Glad you came.”
Maria smiled up at him, the warmth of his presence washing over her. “I wasn’t going to miss this.”
Roland’s gaze shifted to Draco, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “And Draco,” he said, stepping toward him with the same sense of familiarity he had always shown. “Good to see you, boy.”
Without hesitation, Roland pulled Draco into a quick, firm man hug, clapping him on the back in a way that suggested he had done this many times before. “I see that it doesn’t take much persuasion from my daughter for you to tag along,” he teased with a glint in his eye.
Draco flushed. “It’s not like that,” he muttered, casting a brief, embarrassed glance at Maria.
Roland laughed softly. “Oh, don’t worry, Draco. I’ve known you since you were a child running through our estate’s gardens, chasing after anything that caught your eye.” His tone was lighthearted, but there was a note of authority behind it, one that commanded respect even as it remained gentle. “Still, I wasn’t expecting her to show up with a boy.” He winked at Maria, enjoying the way both teenagers turned slightly pink.
Roland seemed to be in high spirits tonight, Draco thought.
Maria’s eyes widened in protest, but she quickly shook it off, gesturing towards the forest. “Father,” she said, eager to change the subject, “are we heading to the enclosures now?”
Roland chuckled again, brushing a stray lock of hair from his daughter’s face. “All right, all right. Follow me.” With a final nod to Hagrid, Roland turned, leading them toward the heart of the Forbidden Forest.
As they walked, Maria glanced back at Hagrid, who remained behind. “Aren’t you coming?” she asked.
“Nah,” Hagrid replied with a sheepish grin, his eyes twinkling under the moonlight. “Got someone else comin’ ‘round in a bit.” Maria noticed, for the first time, the small flower pinned to his coat—a single bloom tucked neatly into the fabric. She grinned knowingly.
“Good luck,” she whispered, her eyes sparkling. Hagrid shifted awkwardly but gave her a grateful nod. Maria turned back to Draco, her suspicions about Madam Maxime now confirmed. She’d caught their exchanged glances at dinner more than once.
As they made their way deeper into the forest, Roland glanced over his shoulder at Draco, his tone shifting to a more conversational one. “Still interested in dragons, Draco?”
Draco scoffed lightly, though there was a trace of nostalgia in his voice. “I’ve grown out of that phase.”
Maria raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin playing on her lips. “Really? Then why do you still have a bookshelf filled with novels about the history of dragons back at the manor?”
Draco’s face flushed slightly, but he managed to keep his expression neutral. “That’s for decoration,” he muttered defensively.
Roland chuckled, clearly amused. “There’s no shame in it, Draco. I made a career out of it, after all. There’s something remarkable about these creatures, don’t you think?”
Draco hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “I agree.”
They soon reached the edge of the dragon enclosure, and even from a distance, the power radiating from the creatures was immense. Roland and Maria instinctively winced as the air around them seemed to hum with tension—the dragons, massive and restless, shifted uncomfortably within their enclosures. Draco, however, was wide-eyed, unable to tear his gaze away from the sight of the beasts.
“They’re…,” Draco whispered, his usual words replaced with genuine awe. He was speechless.
But Roland’s face darkened, his expression shifting from pride to anger. “Magnificent, yes,” he said through gritted teeth, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the cramped cages. “But they’re stressed. The enclosures are too small.”
Maria glanced at her father, knowing that tone all too well. “Father?”
Roland’s eyes flashed with frustration as he turned toward the dragon keepers—a group of men huddled nervously far from the enclosures, clearly hesitant to approach the creatures they were supposed to be handling. “Untrained fools,” he muttered under his breath. “They didn’t even enlarge the cages properly.”
Without another word, Roland shot a quick glance at Maria and Draco. “Stay here. I’ll deal with them.”
Before either could respond, he strode off, his usually calm demeanor giving way to anger as he headed towards the keepers, who were shrinking back even further from the dragons. Maria and Draco watched him go, the tension in the air matching the energy of the restless beasts in their cramped confines.
Maria and Draco stood in stunned silence as Roland scolded the dragon keepers, his voice carrying across the area. “Do you call this handling!” he roared, arms gesturing at the too-small cages. “You’re lucky none of these creatures have broken free!”
The keepers shrank back, muttering apologies, but Roland wasn’t having it. His eyes flashed with authority, his hands moving sharply as he directed them to enlarge the enclosures. In an instant, the dragon keepers took out their wands and began to do their job properly.
Maria sighed softly, watching her father with a mixture of pride and exasperation. “He’s really laying into them,” she said, her voice low. But even as her father berated the keepers, she couldn’t help but marvel at the dragons. The power they exuded was palpable, but now, as the enclosures expanded, the beasts shifted more comfortably, their agitation slowly fading.
“They’re calming down,” Maria observed, her tone light with awe. She took a step forward, eyes drawn to the majestic Hungarian Horntail that loomed in the largest cage. The dragon’s black scales glistened in the moonlight, its eyes sharp and intelligent as it surveyed its surroundings. “Come on,” she urged, nudging Draco’s arm. “Let’s get a closer look.”
Draco stared at her, wide-eyed. “Are you insane?” he whispered harshly, shaking his head. “That’s a Hungarian Horntail, Maria. One of the most dangerous dragons in the world. I’m not going near that thing.”
Maria laughed softly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “You’ll be fine. Trust me.”
Before he could argue further, she grabbed his arm and began to pull him forward. He stumbled slightly but followed her, his reluctance evident in his stiff posture. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into these things,” Draco muttered, though there was little protest in his tone now.
As they approached the massive beast, the Horntail’s eyes narrowed, and it let out a deep, earth-shaking roar that reverberated through the clearing. Draco flinched, taking a step back, but Maria stood her ground, her gaze steady on the dragon.
“Relax,” Maria murmured, her voice barely audible above the crackling sounds of the dragon’s breathing. She closed her eyes and centered herself, her heartbeat slowing as she reached out with her mind. A soft breeze seemed to stir around her, though there was no wind. Her breathing became steady, rhythmic, and with it, the dragon’s snarls began to soften. Calm, peaceful thoughts flowed from her like invisible wisps, weaving through the air toward the creature before her.
It was a family gift—one rarely spoken of and almost never witnessed outside of the PenDragon line. Legends told of their ability to communicate with dragons, a power that seemed like mere folklore to most. But Draco knew better. He had seen Maria’s family work their magic before, witnessed this ancient connection in action, and each time it left him spellbound.
The Hungarian Horntail, a fearsome beast known for its brutality, had been raging justmoments ago—its golden eyes fierce, wings half-unfurled, and muscles taut with aggression. Now, however, as Maria’s influence washed over it, the dragon’s fiery gaze locked onto her with a new kind of intensity, as if recognizing something familiar. Its nostrils flared, but not in anger—in recognition. Slowly, imperceptibly at first, the massive tension in its coiled form began to ease. The rumbling growl that had filled the air moments before died down, replaced by a low, almost soothing hum.
Draco watched in disbelief as the Horntail, infamous for its temper, lowered its head, dipping toward Maria in what could only be described as a gesture of submission. Its golden eyes softened as it settled near the edge of the cage, so close that Draco could feel the waves of heat rolling off its obsidian-scaled body.
“Merlin…,” he breathed, his voice a mix of awe and something else—reverence. “You always manage to impress me.”
Maria opened her eyes slowly, her lips curving into a faint smile as she took a step closer to the barrier separating them from the dragon. Her hand hovered just above it, the invisible boundary buzzing faintly, like static in the air.
“Not as impressive as the other things we can do,” she said quietly, her eyes flicking back to the dragon. “Poor thing. This one’s been bred in captivity—it’s all it’s ever known.”
As if understanding her words, the dragon exhaled deeply, a warm breath escaping its flaring nostrils and ruffling the edge of Maria’s robe. Draco’s astonishment was palpable as he glanced from the dragon to her, his usual air of snarky confidence nowhere to be found.
“That’s…horrible,” he muttered, his grey eyes still wide.
Maria sighed, stepping back slightly from the Horntail. She could feel its exhaustion, the weariness in its bones after the long journey from Romania. The others, too, she sensed—they all longed for rest. But there was no rest for them here, not yet. They were just pawns in a larger game now, their purpose tied to the upcoming task.
As she returned to Draco’s side, her gaze drifted toward her father, Roland, who was deep in conversation with another man. A tall, red-headed wizard whose posture seemed vaguely familiar.
“How big is the Weasley family, exactly?” Maria asked, her brow furrowing as she watched the man laugh at something Roland said.
Draco scoffed, folding his arms. “Far too big.”
Maria’s lips twitched with amusement. “I can see that. They’ve certainly made a name for themselves. Imagine growing up with that many siblings. The house would never be quiet.” Her voice softened slightly, the wistfulness in it unmissable. “Sometimes I wonder what it’s like…”
Draco raised an eyebrow, looking down at her. “What?”
“To not be an only child,” she said, her gaze meeting his. “Not having to carry the weight of your family’s name on your shoulders. I imagine it must be…different, having siblings to share that with.”
Draco was taken aback by the sudden vulnerability in her words. He had never once considered the idea of sharing his legacy—his birthright—with anyone else. Being the sole heir to the Malfoy name had always been his burden alone, for better or worse. But the thought of it now, spoken so simply by Maria, sent a flicker of doubt through him.
“I don’t think I’ve ever thought about it,” he said quietly, uncharacteristically unsure. His voice wavered for a moment before he added, “But if I had to guess, I imagine it’s a lot of noise. Chaos. Fighting for attention. I can’t see the appeal.”
Maria smiled faintly, but there was something distant in her expression, as if she was remembering something just out of reach. “Maybe. But at least it wouldn’t be so…lonely.”
Draco glanced at her, stunned into silence once again. He didn’t know how to respond to that—not when he’d spent so much of his life priding himself on being independent, on being strong because he had to be. Yet here Maria was, sharing a different perspective entirely, one that made him question his own.
The Hungarian Horntail huffed once more, drawing their attention back to it. It lay with its head resting on the ground now, eyes half-closed, as if lulled into a state of peaceful slumber by Maria’s magic. The moment of quiet was almost serene, despite the beast’s towering presence.
“Come on,” Maria said, nudging Draco gently. “Let’s give them some space. They’ve had a long day.”
Draco gave a small nod, and together they turned, walking toward where Roland stood, his conversation with the red-haired wizard still in full swing. As they moved away, Draco couldn’t help but glance back one last time at the dragon, still in awe of what he had just witnessed.
“Impressive,” he repeated under his breath, though this time, the awe in his voice was directed more at Maria than the dragon.
As Maria and Draco began walking toward Roland and the tall red-headed man now deep in conversation, the soft murmur of their voices faded into the distance. The pair moved in unison, Draco’s hand briefly brushing against Maria’s arm as he whispered something that made her smile. They were headed directly toward Roland PenDragon, who was engaged with none other than Charlie Weasley.
Just beyond the trees lining the dragon enclosure, Hagrid and Harry stood watching. Hagrid’s arms were crossed, his eyes fixed on the dragons as they settled, their fiery temperaments quelled for the moment. Beside him, Harry wasn’t looking at the dragons. His attention was solely on Draco and Maria.
“Well, would yeh look at that,” Hagrid muttered, nodding toward the Horntail. “Ain’t seen one o’ those beasts calm down so fast… must be somethin’ special she’s done’.”
Harry said nothing, his gaze still following Maria and Draco as they approached Roland and the redhead beside him—Charlie Weasley, unmistakable with his broad shoulders and dragon-handler gear. Draco leaned in to say something to Maria, drawing out a small, secretive smile from her, and for some reason, it made Harry’s chest tighten.
“Special, yeah,” Harry mumbled under his breath.
Hagrid scratched his beard, his eyes lingering on Roland and Maria. “The PenDragon family,” he muttered more to himself than to Harry, “Always heard stories ‘bout their ability to calm dragons, though I figured it was jus’ a rumor. But seein’ it with me own eyes? Blimey, that’s somethin’ else…”
Harry glanced up at Hagrid, whose usual confidence around magical creatures had given way to awe. Hagrid, who had handled some of the most dangerous beasts in the wizarding world, was genuinely astonished. It wasn’t often Harry saw that.
“Yeh’ve heard of ‘em, haven’t yeh?” Hagrid asked, glancing down at Harry. “The PenDragon family. Famous for workin’ with dragons. They’ve got a family gift for it. Most reckon it’s a legend, but now…” He gestured toward the Horntail, its golden eyes now closed, resting peacefully in its enclosure. “Well, that ain’t a rumor no more to me.”
Before Harry could respond, Hagrid pointed toward Charlie and Roland. “See that there? That’s Charlie Weasley. Dragon handler—he’s been working with ‘em a few months now.”
Harry blinked, suddenly realizing why Ron had been so adamant about coming to see the dragons. “Charlie…Ron’s brother?”
Hagrid chuckled. “Aye, that’s right. Surprised Ron didn’t mention it to yeh. He was here to see Charlie earlier.”
Harry’s brow furrowed. “He didn’t say anything.”
Hagrid gave him a curious look but shrugged it off. “Eh, kids. Anyhow, looks like Roland’s havin’ a bit of a chat with him. Prob’ly talkin’ ‘bout the dragons.”
Harry’s attention drifted back to Maria and Draco, who had now reached Roland and Charlie. They stood side by side, Draco leaning in slightly as Roland gestured toward the resting Horntail, likely explaining something about the dragon’s behavior. Maria, for her part, looked completely at ease, her connection to this world of dragons and magic as natural as breathing.
The conversation between the four of them seemed almost intimate from where Harry stood. He couldn’t hear their words, but the way they interacted—like they all belonged to the same story, the same world—made Harry feel distant. Draco and Maria…they seemed so effortlessly connected to something he wasn’t a part of.
Hagrid, oblivious to Harry’s thoughts, rubbed his chin. “Can’t believe it, seein’ a PenDragon calm a dragon like that. Absolutely breathtaking.”
Harry’s mind, however, wasn’t on the dragons anymore. The quiet, unfamiliar tension stirred again inside him, leaving him with a nagging feeling that maybe he didn’t know Maria as well as he thought.
“Right, come on, Harry,” Hagrid said, clapping a large hand on Harry’s shoulder. “We best be headin’ back. They’ll be lettin’ the dragons rest for now.”
Harry gave a small nod, though his gaze lingered on Maria, who was now laughing at something Charlie said. As Hagrid steered him away, the sound of her laughter drifted after them, faint and distant, but still there.