The Dragon
The blond prat was gloating in the common room. He was saying he had a sure way of getting Potter and his group in trouble. The way he looked at Titania while saying that was grating on her nerves. Of course, he meant to say he had a way to get HER sister in trouble. He wanted to get a raise out of her.
But she said nothing, concentrating on her History of Magic homework. She tuned him out, trying to explain why the druids disappeared when the Romans came. And it worked. Sort of. She could hear his annoying voice, but not his words. Until…
“… Dragon!”
“What did you just say, Malfoy?” She asked, blanching.
“That oaf of a groundskeeper just hatched a dragon! Are you deaf?”
Titania was closing her eyes, groaning. Of course, Hagrid had just hatched a dragon. And of bloody course her sister and her friends were going to get involved. It was down to Titania to think fast before it was too late.
And she just had an idea.
“You want the groundskeeper in trouble, don’t you Malfoy?”
“It will be nice, yes, mudblood.”
“And if the groundskeeper is in trouble, maybe that will reflect on the headmaster, right?
“Obviously!”
“Then I have an idea. But you won’t get the Gryffindors in trouble.”
“Then I will stick to my idea. Why would I listen to you, eh?”
“Because if not, you will go bald.”
There was a sudden drop in the noise around them, the other students listening raptly.
“And why, pray tell, would I go bald?” Sneered the Malfoy brat.
“Because you didn’t stick to the term of the magical oath we swore, remember?”
The blond ponce laughed at that.
“I would already have been bald if that was the case!”
“Not if I consciously stopped the magical punishment, holding it in stasis while I searched for a way to retaliate worse than what the baldness would do to you.”
He frowned, not quite convinced, but not foolish enough to dismiss her claims. An older Slytherin, with crooked teeth, burst into laughter.
“She has you by the balls, Malfoy! Either you comply with her ideas, or you will be looking for her retaliation in fear as long as she wants.”
“What do you mean, Flint? It is not possible!”
“Of course it is. Someone who listen to their magic can do a lot of things. And this… Ha! This is easy, boy.”
Smirking, Titania titled her head.
“So, what do you say, Malfoy? Want to hear my idea? Want to go bald? Or to wait for my retaliation?”
Pinching his lips, the blond prat nodded tersely. Once.
“Go on, mudblood,” he said with a clipped tone.
“Smart choice. So… I want you to write to your father. I want you to complain to him about this dragon the groundskeeper had hatched. I want your father to go to the Board of Governors with this. To the Minister. And, if anyone here wants to do the same, well… You could. You could talk about the troll on Hallowe’en. Or Samhain, whatever. You could also add the strange warning the Headmaster dispensed at the Start-of-Year Feast, if you didn’t do it already. You could say that there is absolutely no warning whatsoever to know that you are in the forbidden corridor. You could question why a simple alohomora can opening that bloody first door in the bloody forbidden corridor. You could even be asking why there is a fucking Cerberus behind that door. A Cerberus, sitting in a trapdoor in the floor, named Fluffy by the groundskeeper.”
The more she talked, the more the students were paling.
“Personally, I will do all of that. Not only in a letter for my parents, but also for the Minister. For the Department of Education. For the Head of the Law Enforcement Department. For the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creature. Maybe one for the Daily Prophet, too.”
Eyes were widening. Some students started cackling. Even Malfoy raised an impressed brow.
“And you want to forgo your retaliation, or my baldness, for this? I would have done this for free, mudblood.”
She shrugged. And smirked.
“It is just a word, you know? Mudblood. I really don’t care when you call me that. It is as effective as calling me a beaver-girl. Or a freak. Or anything, really. It’s just a word.”
She turned around, not waiting for a reaction, and put her essay aside. She started drafting her letter. She didn’t want her sister to be in trouble, and for that, she would be pointing the finger on everyone but her.
“Dear Mum and Dad / Dear Madam Bones / Dear Minister / Dear Amos Diggory / Dear Rita Skeeter,
I find myself frightened by what is occurring at Hogwarts this year. I don’t know if it is something that’s normal or not, but it scares me.
Firstly, there was this Mountain Troll who was wandering the school during the Feast of October 31st. I didn’t know about it, I was comforting my sister in the second floor’s bathroom when the beast suddenly came in, smelling like something foul and grunting, and waving his club. I managed to levitate his club and let it down on his skull two times, sending the beast crashing into the floor and smashing his head. But it was so scary! I couldn’t go to the bathrooms alone for months after. I still can’t stay too long in there.
Also, there was this strange warning the Headmaster gave at the Start-of-Year Feast. He said that “the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death”. In what sort of school is there a death penalty for a forbidden corridor? But that’s not all! There is no warning to know that you are in the wrong corridor. And the stairs moving doesn’t help to know where you are going! And worst! The first door on that floor can be opened with a simple Alohomora! And there is a three-headed dog behind that door, sitting on a trapdoor in the floor! What sort of school is Hogwarts?
And, the latest news, the one who pushed me to write this letter… The groundskeeper, Hagrid, had apparently hatched a baby dragon in his wooden hut! I just can’t keep these things to myself anymore. I dread to go on the grounds, I dread to take the stairs, I dread to go to the bathroom… If nothing is done, I think I will rather change school. There is this one, in France, that intrigue me…
I really hope something can be done for these terrifying things happening in Hogwarts.
With love / Sincerely,
Titania Granger.”
She added a post-scriptum for her parents, asking them to not be so hard with Hermione not telling anything. And to please forgive her for not saying a thing either. When she was satisfied with her letter, the brunette copied it, changing the opening and the end to fit with its intended recipient. Listening to Malfoy discuss his letter to his father with his friends, she frowned. And she added some line to the one for Madam Bones and Mr Diggory:
“P.S: If you can’t come to the school before Saturday, midnight, the living fire-breathing proof of the dragon will be gone.”
With that, she rolled her letters and sealed them with a bit of emerald wax.
“I’m off to the Owlery. Be sure to send it today, Malfoy. I want results, and soon.”
She started to walk toward the exit when he called for her to wait.
“Granger! Wait. I… I’m done with my letter. I will send it now. My father is at the Ministry, at least until dinner. My owl can get this to him before that. Maybe… Maybe you want to… I mean… My owl can take your letters for the Minister, Madam Bones and Lord Diggory with her and dropped them at the same time? You see, there is this room where all communications are dropped, sorted, and sent to the intended recipient by the House-Elves of the Ministry. It will be faster this way.”
She studied him for a moment. He was almost earnest. Maybe he really dreaded her retaliation? Flint confirming what she suspected she was doing seemed to have terrified the prat.
“Very well. I will use a school owl for the rest.”
And she exited the room, a blond ponce on her heels.
The walk to the Owlery was silent. It was just after lunch, and many students were enjoying the first rays of sunshine on the grounds. For a month of April, it was quite mild in the highlands. And spending their Saturdays lounging in the sun was doing wonder for the students’ moods. So they didn’t crossed path with anyone.
Wordlessly, Titania gave him the three letters his owl would take to the Ministry and gave the other two to a little moody owl.
“This goes to Rita Skeeter, please. And this one, to my parents. Doctors Juliet and Douglas Granger. You don’t need to wait a reply for the first one. But could you wait a bit for the second? Thanks!”
From the corner of her eye, she watched as the Malfoy heir was acting similarly with his regal owl. And she finally smiled when the two birds were flying out of sight. No, she would just wait for the repercussion, praying that something good will come of it.