Chapter Text
march 1992
In the weeks following, things didn’t seem to be getting worse. At least, not in regards to the stone.
Quirrell did get paler and thinner, but it didn’t seem as though he had cracked. Every time they passed the third floor corridor, they pressed their ears to the door to make sure Fluffy was still growling inside. Snape was still his usual unpleasant self, so they took that as a good sign.
Their studies, however, were another story. Classes began to get heavier as they got closer to the Easter holidays, and Laila became swamped with work. It seemed that Hermione had a very vocal method of studying, and the boys had a very nonexistent one, so Laila opted to work by herself most days. She felt distracted around her friends, and unfortunately, all other people, so the only time she could sit down and focus was after dinner, when most of her housemates had turned in for the night.
It was unfortunate, then, that she had to spend her valuable alone time with none other than Malfoy.
It was past curfew, and she had half-hoped he wouldn’t even show up, but fate hated her so it sent him early.
“I don’t understand why McGonagall’s got us doing a project for this, it could’ve just been a simple lesson,” he complained, looking at his textbook with a bored expression.
For their Transfiguration class, Professor McGonagall had them work as pairs and research on one sub-branch of transfiguration. They were to present the following class, leaving the weekend as their only time to work on it. And of course, she had the worst partner in the world.
Sat at the round table by the window, Laila fixed the blonde prick with what felt like the millionth glare that night. “We don’t need to speak unless it's for the project.”
“Whatever,” he shrugged, flipping through the pages.
Laila leaned back in her chair and sighed, staring up at the ceiling. I certainly wouldn’t miss this part of Hogwarts.
“Something bothering you, Troll?”
“Yes. Your voice. Stop talking.”
“Not happening,” he pushed his book toward her, annotations printed in a beautiful script she had trouble believing belonged to such a foul person. “Write this quote, we can use it in our introduction.”
She glanced at him sideways.
“Well? What’re you looking at me for, start writing!”
It was odd, but it seemed that Malfoy was actually very focused on his studies. When he wasn’t terrorizing those around him, he could actually be quite…intelligent, she would reluctantly admit. And unfortunately, he seemed to be smarter than her, which didn’t help with his ego one bit.
“Okay! Don’t tell me what to do…” she picked up her quill and began to scrawl down the quote. It was 5 sentences long.
“I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t so lazy.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“Says the boy who can’t even breathe without his lackeys at his side.”
“Lackeys?”
“Would you prefer I call them your flying monkeys instead?”
“Am I supposed to understand what that means?” he crossed his arms and leaned back.
Laila blinked. “You don’t kn—The Wizard of Oz? Dorothy and Toto? Ruby red slippers?”
“You really are deranged…”
“It’s a film. You’ve seriously never seen it?”
“Why would I ever have to watch muggle films?”
At this, Laila sat up, dumbfounded. “So you’ve never seen any films?”
“No, Father says they rot your brain.”
“Clearly, your father hasn’t seen Star Wars, or Indiana Jones, or Back to the Future.”
“You’re just saying words,” he rolled his eyes. “Finish writing, I don’t think I can take any more of this.”
“Yeah, because you’re the one that’s suffering here,” she huffed, slouching back into her seat.
They didn’t speak much after that, aside from the occasional snide remarks from either of them. The assignment took about an hour, though it felt like several. Malfoy left with a scowl, and Laila stuck her tongue out at him as he walked away.
“Good riddance,” she grumbled, gathering her things together before rushing back to her own dormitory, where the other girls had already turned in for the night.
The next few weeks were a blur of homework, surveillance, and unsurprisingly, teasing from her Slytherin classmates. Apparently, word about Ron’s fight with Malfoy had spread, and Pansy had been giving her flack for it every chance she got.
Tracey and Theo tried to make her feel better, and though she didn’t show it on her face, she was starting to feel alienated from her house. So, she had begun to hang around her Gryffindor friends more. It was one of these evenings when they were studying in the library when Hagrid approached them.
Laila was helping Harry look up a word in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi when Ron shouted out, “Hagrid, what are you doing in the library?”
Hagrid came into view with something behind his back.
“Jus’ lookin’,” his tone was shifty, and Laila’s ears perked up. “An’ what’re you lot up ter? Yer not still lookin’ fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?”
Ron shrugged. “Oh, we found out who he is ages ago. And we know what that dog’s guarding, it’s a Sorcerer’s—”
“SHH!” Hagrid looked around quickly. “Don’ go shoutin’ about it, what’s the matter with yeh?”
“A lot of things, really,” Laila grinned, to which Ron sent her an annoyed glance.
“There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact,” Harry spoke up. “About what’s guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy—”
Hagrid shushed again. “Listen—come an’ see me later. I’m not promisin’ I’ll tell yeh anythin’, mind, but don’ go rabbitin’ about it in here, students aren’ s’pposed ter know. They’ll think I’ve told yeh—”
“See you later, then,” cut in Harry with a smile.
After Hagrid left, Hermione wondered aloud, “What was he hiding behind his back? Do you think it had anything to do with the stone?”
Ron got out of his chair immediately. “I’m going to see what section he was in.”
As he walked away, Laila sighed. “Literally anything but doing his work.”
This earned a laugh from Harry and Hermione.
Ron returned a minute later with a pile of books, slamming them on the table.
“Dragons!” he whispered. “Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland, From Egg to Inferno, a Dragon Keeper’s Guide.”
“Hagrid’s always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever met him,” Harry said.
“But it’s illegal,” Laila said. “Dragon breeding’s been outlawed since the Warlock’s Convention of 1709. Muggles will spot them immediately.”
Ron nodded. “Anyway, you can’t tame dragons, it’s dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie’s got off wild ones in Romania.”
“But there aren’t wild dragons in Britain?”
“Yeah, but the Ministry has to keep it under wraps. Dad hates dealing with it because they have to put spells on Muggles who’ve seen them, make them forget.”
“So what on Earth is Hagrid up to?” said Hermione.
This question wouldn’t leave them alone, so an hour later they were knocking on the door of the gamekeeper’s hut. Fang sat outside the door, and Laila shuffled behind her friends and away from him. Surprisingly, the curtains were all closed, and Hagrid asked “who is it?” before letting them in. He shut the door quickly behind them.
It was unbearably hot in the hut, despite the warm weather outside. Hagrid made them tea and offered them stoat sandwiches, which they politely refused.
“So, yeh wanted to ask me somethin’?”
“Yes. We were wondering if you could tell us what’s guarding the Sorcerer’s Stone apart from Fluffy,” Harry said.
Hagrid frowned.
“O’ course I can’t. Number one, I don’ know myself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn’ tell yeh if I could. That Stone’s here fer a good reason. It was almost stollen outta Gringotts—I s’ppose yeh’ve worked that out an’ all? Beats me how yeh even know abou’ Fluffy.”
Hermione took on a flattering tone. “Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us but you do know. You know everything that goes on around here. We only wondered who had done the guarding, really. Who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you.”
Harry, Ron, and Laila beamed as Hagrid’s chest swelled.
"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that... let's see... he borrowed Fluffy from me... then some o' the teachers did enchantments... Professor Sprout — Professor Flitwick — Professor McGonagall —" he ticked them off on his fingers, "Professor Quirrell — an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."
Laila’s brows shot up. “Snape?”
“Yeah—yer not still on abou’ that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped protect the stone, he’s not about ter steal it.”
It seemed the most logical conclusion, but Laila could tell by the looks on her friends’ faces exactly what they were thinking: if Snape had been in on protecting the stone, it must have been easy for him to figure out how to get it. And though she felt inclined to agree with Hagrid, she couldn’t deny that what Harry had heard after the Quidditch match and her Head of House’s strange behavior as of late didn’t reek of suspicion.
“You’re the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, aren’t you, Hagrid?” Harry asked anxiously. “And you wouldn’t tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?”
“Not a soul knows except me an’ Dumbledore.”
“Well, that’s something,” Harry muttered to them. “Hagrid, can we have a window open? I’m boiling.”
“Can’t, Harry, sorry,” Hagrid glanced at the fire.
“What’s that?” Laila asked, though she already knew. Hours and hours of magical schooling by her father told her exactly what the huge black mass underneath the kettle was: a dragon egg.
“Ah,” Hagrid fiddled nervously with his beard, “That’s, er…”
“Where did you get it, Hagrid?” Ron asked, crouching over the fire to get a closer look. “It must’ve cost a fortune.”
“Won it,” said Hagrid.
Laila raised a skeptical brow. Most dragon breeders weren’t exclusively to that business, usually they dabbled in other illegal artefacts. “From who?”
“Las’ night, I was down in the village havin’ a few drinks an’ got into a game o’ cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest.”
Hermione voiced what Laila was thinking. “But what are you going to do with it when it’s hatched?”
"Well, I've been doin' some readin',” Hagrid pulled a large book from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library —Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit—it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here — how ter recognize diff'rent eggs — what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."
Hagrid looked pretty proud, but Hermione didn’t.
“Hagrid, you live in a wooden house,” the bushy-haired girl deadpanned.
Hagrid either didn’t hear or pretended not to, humming as he stoked the fire.
And so, on top of trying to do her homework, Laila began to read up on dragons.
Then, one day at breakfast, Harry got a note from Hagrid that simply said “It’s hatching.”
Ron thought skipping class would be a good idea, but Laila shot it down immediately. “Easy for you to say, all you’ve got is Herbology. I’ve got Charms.”
“So?” Ron rolled his eyes. “Just come with us—”
“Who said we’re going?” Hermione interrupted.
“Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?” Ron whined.
“We’ve got lessons, we’ll get into trouble, and that’s nothing to what Hagrid’s going to be in when someone finds out what he’s doing—”
“Shut up!” Harry whispered, looking into the aisle between tables.
Laila followed his gaze and saw Malfoy, stopped dead in his tracks. The look on his face told Laila everything she needed to know: he heard everything.
Once he was gone, Laila turned to all her friends and blinked at their expectant looks. “What?”
“I don’t like the look on his face at all,” Harry shook his head.
“Keep an eye on him,” Ron scowled.
She sighed. “Fine. Whatever.”
All throughout Charms Laila kept making awkward and incessant eye contact with Malfoy. He looked too haughty for her liking, smug like he was going to pull the rug out from underneath them.
She tried to keep an eye on him as best she could that day, but it was difficult to do that and simultaneously see Tracey without telling her anything.
“Why do you keep looking over at Malfoy?” she asked as class was dismissed.
“I’m…plotting…” Laila cringed at how stupid it sounded.
“Plotting what?” Tracey grinned. “If you can extend your target pool to Pansy then I want in.”
“Sure, once I figure out what to do.” Laila bent over to put her books into her bag. When she got back up, panic flooded her as she realized Malfoy was gone.
She tried to rush out of class as nonchalantly as she could. She couldn’t see him in the hall, either. Dread was flashing behind her eyes.
“Hey, I’ll catch up with you in a bit. I’m gonna go find Hermione.”
Tracey frowned, hugging her books closer. She rolled her eyes as though she was joking, but something in her tone felt like she wasn’t really. “Fine, I’ll just wait in the library alone.”
Laila was conflicted. She looked between her friend, the end of the hall, and back at her friend. Swallowing the lump and bitter taste in her mouth, she tried to rationalize by thinking that Harry, Ron, and definitely Hermione could handle it. “Nevermind, I’ll just come with you.”
Later that day when she ran into Hermione, Laila found out the dragon had hatched, and that Malfoy definitely knew about it. Guilt ate at her insides the whole time.
“Sorry, I lost track of him,” Laila offered.
“It’s okay,” Hermione waved her off. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t do anything dreadful.”
Knowing him, Laila knew that could never be true. And his weird lurking smile for the next week did nothing to quell their fears.
Laila went with her friends to Hagrid’s darkened hut often, trying to reason with him to let it go.
“Set him free,” Harry urged one day.
“I can’t,” Hagrid refused. “He’s too little. He’d die.”
They looked at it. The dragon had grown three times in size in only a week. Smoke furled out of its nostrils. Hagrid hadn’t been doing his job because he was so busy with the dragon. Empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers were scattered across the hut.
“I’ve decided to call him Norbert,” Hagrid said with misty eyes. “He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where’s Mommy?”
“He’s lost his marbles,” Ron muttered, and Laila fought the urge to chuckle.
“Hagrid,” Harry said loudly. “Give it two weeks and Norbert’s going to be as long as your house.”
“He’s right. Malfoy’s been unusually chipper and much less obnoxious lately, he’s definitely planning something. He could go to Dumbledore at any second—or worse, his father.”
Hagrid bit is lip. “I—I know I can’t keep him forever, but I can’t jus’ dump him. I can’t.”
“I would ask my dad for help but I don’t think he’d be on our side with this,” Laila frowned.
Harry suddenly turned to Ron. “Charlie.”
Laila’s lips made an “O” as realization struck. Of course, how could they have forgotten?
Ron didn’t get it though. “You’re losing it, too. I’m Ron, remember?”
“He knows that,” Laila pinched the bridge of her nose. “He means your brother. In Romania.”
Harry nodded. “We could send Norbert to him. Charlie can take care of him and then put him back in the wild!”
“Brilliant!” Ron agreed. “How about it, Hagrid?”
It took some convincing, but in the end Hagrid agreed to send an owl to Charlie to ask him.
A week later, Laila found herself in the hospital wing with Ron during a break between her classes. They spoke in hushed voices, him in the bed with a nasty looking infection on his hand from Norbert’s bite.
“I hate that thing,” he grumbled.
“Well who told you to try and play games with its food?” Laila scolded.
“Doesn’t mean Hagrid has to treat it like a baby. He told me off for frightening it! And he sang it a lullaby when I left!”
“I mean, it is his baby in a way,” she shrugged.
Just then, Madame Pomfrey approached them. “You’ve got another visitor.”
Behind her stood Malfoy, arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his face. The color drained from Laila and Ron.
Madame Pomfrey walked away for a moment, and Malfoy sneered, “Should I tell her what really bit you, Weasel?”
“Like you have the guts,” Laila scoffed.
“Don’t be so proud, Troll. You know I’ll do it. One wrong move and…” he wiggled his fingers as a “bye-bye” gesture.
Madame Pomfrey returned with a jug of fresh water. “Have you gotten your book then?”
“No, I think—”
“I’ve got a copy. Come on, Malfoy, I’ll lend it to you.” Laila glared and stood up from the chair beside Ron’s bed.
“No no, this is fine,” he grinned wide, taking Ron’s book from the table beside the bed. Laila’s heart sank, realizing that it was the book where he had put Charlie’s letter.
As she walked out of the Hospital Wing with Malfoy, she flashed Ron a sympathetic look and mouthed, “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry to him, be sorry to your father,” Draco rolled his eyes. “Imagine what’ll happen when the Ministry finds out what their top Auror’s daughter has been up to. I imagine it’d look a lot like he was protecting you.”
She gave him a disbelieving look, coming to a stop in the hallway. “You wouldn’t.”
He didn’t turn around, but she could practically hear the giddiness in his voice as she watched his retreating back. “Watch me.”