Chapter 56: The Forgotten Dragon

Before long, Professor Sprout arrived, her face stormy with rage—a sight no one had ever witnessed from the usually gentle Herbology professor. "This is outrageous... absolutely outrageous!" "You Gryffindors have gone too far!" Harold and the Weasley twins instinctively shrank back, trying to reduce their presence as much as possible. But clearly, the second part was directed at Professor McGonagall, who looked more than a little guilty. Truthfully, her earlier deductions hadn't been wild guesses. She'd seen this all before. Over a decade ago, some other students had done the exact same thing. Coincidentally, they'd also been Gryffindors. Back then, however, the Whomping Willow was newly planted and far less aggressive. Seeing those branches in Harold's hands still left her a little shaken. There had to be consequences. McGonagall's face hardened again. Seeing her shift into professor mode—and with no real damage done to the Willow—Professor Sprout let out a long breath, gave Harold and the twins a final hard look, and stormed off without another word. "You three..." McGonagall began, but was interrupted by a brash, raspy voice from the stairs. "Come on! Move it! No slinking off this time—got you all now!" It was Filch, dragging three slouched and miserable students behind him. Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Professor McGonagall, I caught these three sneaking around the castle!" Filch said with glee, clearly missing the part where she looked like she was about to pass out. This night had been a lot. Eight students out of bed—and seven of them were Gryffindors. McGonagall had to brace herself on the wall, dizzy from disbelief. "Thank you, Mr. Filch," she said at last, voice tight. Once she'd dismissed him, she turned back to the students, took a deep breath, and said, "All of you. With me. Now." She couldn't stand to remain in the corridor a second longer. For all she knew, two more Gryffindors might crawl out of the shadows. She led them to a study on the second floor—her personal reading room and second office. Once inside, she shut the door and stared at the newest offenders. "Well? I'm listening." "Professor, they were hiding a dragon!" the lone Slytherin in the room blurted before anyone else could speak. Draco Malfoy, practically bouncing with excitement. "They were keeping a dragon—an illegal one! And they were going to send it away tonight... to someone named Charlie Weasley!" "Utter nonsense!" McGonagall snapped, her voice sharp with anger. "A dragon? What on earth made you think up such a ridiculous lie?" "I'm not lying—" "You can leave now." McGonagall cut him off. "I'll be informing Professor Snape of your behavior. I look forward to hearing how he decides to discipline you." Draco looked mutinous but didn't dare argue. He slunk out of the room, closing the door very quietly behind him. "Now. The rest of you." McGonagall's voice was low and exasperated. "You cooked up this tale to trick Draco Malfoy, didn't you? Telling him there was a dragon and convincing him to sneak out of bed? You must have thought it was hilarious. And then Longbottom overheard you and believed it too." All three of them turned to look at Neville. "I— I was just trying to find you guys," Neville blurted out. "I wanted to warn you. I heard Malfoy say he was going to catch you—" "Enough!" McGonagall's sharp tone silenced him instantly. "I am furious. Seven students wandering the castle in the middle of the night. I've never seen anything like it. You... you know what? Forget it." She looked at Hermione, then at Harry and Harold. Her lips tightened like she wanted to say something else, but instead, she just waved a hand. "Detention. Every one of you. And fifty points..." She paused. She did some quick mental math. At that rate, Gryffindor wouldn't just lose the House Cup—they'd be dead last. "Two hundred," she said finally. "Gryffindor will lose two hundred points." "Two hundred?!" Harry choked. That would take them straight from first to last. They were doomed. The others looked equally stunned—even Fred and George were at a total loss. They'd never heard of anyone losing two hundred points in one go. As for Harold, he had frozen in place before McGonagall even announced the punishment. "Professor... please..." "You don't need to tell me what I can or can't do. Now get back to your dormitories. I have never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students in my life." The group stumbled out of the room like ghosts. Harold, however, still stood there, unmoving. McGonagall could tell—he wasn't faking. She sighed inwardly. Clearly dragged into this by the twins, unaware of the full consequences. But even so, sneaking out was against the rules, and he would have to face punishment. Eventually, Harold didn't even remember how he got dragged back to the dorm by the twins and the others. His mind was fixated on one thing. Harry and his friends had been sneaking out tonight... to send away a dragon. That was it. That was the thing he'd been trying to remember all week. The dragon! Quirrell had deliberately lost a card game to Hagrid to win a dragon egg, so he could extract the method for getting past Fluffy the three-headed dog. And Hagrid had actually hatched that egg—an incredibly rare Norwegian Ridgeback, no less. It must've happened over the Easter holidays... but Harold had been so focused on Whomping Willow wand wood that he'd completely forgotten. "Arghhh," he groaned. It was too late. The Norwegian Ridgeback was gone. Every time he thought about it, his heart ached all over again. A whole, living, breathing Norwegian Ridgeback! Sure, Hagrid would never let him use it for wandmaking. But what if... just what if there'd been a spare dragon scale, or some heartstring, or even just some dragon nerve? Even dragonfire would've been perfect—one of the best ways to temper Whomping Willow wand wood. Speaking of Whomping Willow... All the branches he'd collected tonight had been confiscated by Professor McGonagall. Every last one. Even more pain. Harold lay in bed tossing and turning, unable to sleep. The other dorm was clearly restless too—he could hear Neville sniffling and Ron grumbling. "It's all because of that bloody tree! Sprout was out there every night. If she hadn't been, we could've written to Charlie ten days ago!" ...