Chapter 18: 7-2

I could tell just by the looks on their faces that they were up to something. Then again, there was rarely a time when these three weren’t plotting—though in a different sense than the mischief-loving Weasley twins. They had caused Professor Snape so much grief already that I felt a twinge of guilt myself. (Even if it wasn't technically this body’s fault.)

But still. Even so... to think that this was what they’d get me into.

"Look, look! It’s coming out!"

"Whoa...!"

It was just after the Easter holidays—a period of "study hell" enforced by Hermione in preparation for the end-of-term exams. I had followed the trio down a path of lush green grass that smelled of early summer, leading us straight to Hagrid’s hut.

The moment we entered, I saw it: a large, black, rocky egg already spider-webbed with cracks. With a series of sharp, clicking sounds, it split open. Out came a creature that was bony—bat-like—no, lizard-like. To put it bluntly, it was something that couldn’t be described as "cute" or "beautiful" even as a courtesy, despite Hagrid’s claims. It was a baby Norwegian Ridgeback.

The hut was sweltering, kept at a maddening temperature to encourage the hatching. I’d had a bad feeling from the moment I saw every window and door tightly shut from the outside. So, this was it. This was happening.

Whether it was the heat or something else, my consciousness began to drift far, far away.

In the "previous time," if I recall correctly... I forgot the exact reason, but Malfoy found out about the dragon. There was no way Malfoy would keep a secret like that. Realizing they couldn't keep the dragon at Hogwarts, they decided to pull a classic midnight flit to deliver the baby to Ron’s second-oldest brother, Charlie—a dragon researcher. And that’s when they got snitched on to Professor McGonagall, leading to their very first "Traumatic Detention."

Ah... I knew it. By the looks of things, Hagrid must have already blabbed about how to soothe Fluffy to Quirrell over drinks. The fact that he’d illegally obtained a dragon egg was proof enough. Everything was going so well up until the point where the Philosopher's Stone was moved from Gringotts... Ugh, my head hurts.

But escaping from reality won't change anything.

Hagrid was cooing at the baby dragon—which, as expected, was named Norbert (though we’d later find out she’s a female)—in a terrifyingly sickening baby voice. Meanwhile, the trio (mostly the two boys), who had been watching the hatching with excitement, now had worried faces, exchanging silent looks of "What do we do?"

When it comes to Magical Creatures, Hagrid possesses a stubbornness that would surprise even Newt Scamander. I wondered if they could actually convince him to let go—to persuade him that breeding dragons was illegal and he had to give it up.

For that day, we made a strategic retreat from Hagrid and his creepy "Mummy" act. We returned several times later to try again, but as expected, Hagrid showed no sign of budging. Eventually, I resigned myself to the fact that whatever happens, happens. However, the trio, ever loyal, continued their desperate attempts to persuade him. It was easy to tell when they’d been there; they always came back drenched in sweat from the heat of the hut.

Then, a few days later, it finally happened: the "Crisis at Midnight—The Dragon Transport Mission."

Showing me the letter from Charlie, the three explained the plan: they were to take the baby dragon to the top of the Astronomy Tower on Saturday at midnight and hand it over to Charlie’s friends. I racked my brain, trying to force out my memories.

Wait, why did this mission fail again...? Malfoy got caught because he went to snitch in person, and as far as I knew, the trio used the Invisibility Cloak. Did the Cloak slip off somewhere?

Anyway.

Watching the three (mostly Hermione) try to act with caution and weigh the gravity of the situation, I pulled out my Communication Parchment. I figured I should report this to my "undercover collaborator" sooner rather than later.

On the day of the operation, the usual trio was supposed to handle the transport—but trouble struck. Ron got bitten by Norbert. Naturally, he ended up in the Hospital Wing, and when I went to visit him, he dropped a bombshell that made things even worse.

"Charlie's letter... I left it... in the library..."

He had been looking for books on dragons in the library, trying to see if he could treat the bite himself ("Because if anyone finds out about the dragon, we're done!"). It turned out that Norwegian Ridgeback fangs are venomous, forcing him to seek treatment anyway. In his panic, he had left the letter tucked inside one of the books. It was a fatal mistake, classic Ron.

Hermione rushed to the library after hearing his confession, but unfortunately, the letter was gone. Madam Pince, the nervous librarian who would snap her wand at the slightest change in her domain, said nothing. That meant someone else—another student—must have picked it up.

Calming the despairing children, I managed to get a description of the person's robes from Ron. They were green. Oh, for heaven's sake! Slytherin! Talk about the worst possible compatibility!

Knowing it was a long shot, I used the Communication Parchment to ask Draco to search for anyone in Slytherin holding a suspicious letter. Honestly, I didn't have high hopes. We didn't know what year the student was, and just because they were nearby didn't guarantee they were a Slytherin. Ron could have misidentified the color. I thought it was a futile effort, but then—we found her.

Pansy Parkinson, clutching the secret letter like a love note and wearing a wicked, triumphant grin.

Between the last time and this time, are you the key antagonist now, Parkinson?!

For some reason, Pansy often leaks information to Draco. This time was no different; she happily blabbed about the "plan" to him. She had already snitched to Filch about the three "eyesore Gryffindors" moving a dragon at midnight. She planned to keep the letter for herself to use as blackmail later, so she hadn't told Filch about that part. The story ended with Draco slickly stealing the letter from her hands and tossing it into a fireplace. He’s way too competent... Draco Malfoy... what happened to that pathetic, flustered version of him from the past?

Now that the messy truth was out, the plan remained the same. Draco had provided all the backup he could. Even if Filch was waiting for us—Norbert had to be moved to the Astronomy Tower tonight.

The time came. We snatched Norbert away from his hairy "Mummy" during their emotional farewell. Instead of Harry, Hermione, and Ron, it was me and the two of them. I threw the Invisibility Cloak over us and the crate. It was a tight fit, but we managed. I was just glad everyone was still a small first-year.

There was no talking. With the single-minded goal of getting rid of this monster and regaining our peace, we moved.

Up the spiral staircase—up—up—and finally, we reached the top of the Astronomy Tower. After waiting a few minutes, four broomsticks and their riders appeared in the sky. Charlie’s friends. Special dragon-catching ropes were lowered from the four brooms, looping around Norbert’s crate. Norbert was safely transferred into the hands of the wizards. Finally, they disappeared into the night sky. The sight cleared our hearts completely.

The three of us shared a silent cheer, having finally finished the grueling task. I patted Harry and Hermione on the back, our smiles tight with relief, acknowledging each other's hard work.

Triumphant, we prepared to return to the common room under the Cloak, which was now much roomier without Norbert. But then—chaos.

"Is this what you’re looking for? My sweet little ickle firsties?"

"............ Peeves."

Peeves was floating upside down, clutching my Invisibility Cloak.

"Peeves! Give that back!"

"Ooh? That’s no way to ask for a favor, Potter-y? Two little pale-faced Potties!"

"Peeves, please, give it back. I’m begging you."

"Please, Peeves!"

All three of us pleaded with the meddlesome poltergeist. We were desperate. At that moment, I could have praised Peeves’ stupid face as if it were the world’s finest jewel. In fact, Hermione was desperately sucking up to him.

"You’re a very, well, you know—intellectual ghost (—'He's not a ghost, Hermione, he’s a poltergeist!')—ah, I mean—you’re perfect—and so—you must have a heart of gold somewhere...?"

A grin. His hateful, clownish face split into a smile. Satisfied by Hermione’s flattery, Peeves nodded three times—and then threw the Invisibility Cloak away. Out the window. Without a shred of hesitation. What an absolute piece of work.

Hermione let out a scream. The two of us scrambled to cover her mouth, but it was too late.

"Well, well, now... this is a bit of a problem, isn't it?"

Filch was standing at the bottom of the stairs, his sunken eyes gleaming with delight.

150 points taken from Gryffindor in a single night. Harry and Hermione were forced to realize just how massive a disaster this was.

Harry... and Maria... it was particularly bad for them. Being famous only made the "bed of needles" they now sat on even sharper.

Their fellow House members glared at them with accusation. The Ravenclaws looked at them like they were the biggest idiots of the century. The Hufflepuffs treated them like something contagious.

The Slytherins were the worst of all. Pansy Parkinson, in particular, would smile at Maria with her nostrils flared in triumph, as if to say, "It’s all thanks to you." Even Hermione couldn't find a comeback for that.

It seemed as though no one would ever speak to them again, except for Ron, his brothers, and Draco. But surprisingly, he was one of the few who still considered Harry and the others his friends.

"Don't let it get you down, Harry. Maria."

It was Neville. Neville patted the shoulders of a hollow-eyed me and a deeply depressed Harry. He managed a clumsy smile on his round cheeks, which reminded me of a freshly baked loaf of white bread.

"Everyone will forget about this soon. Honestly, I think it's unfair. Everyone was putting Harry on a pedestal and relying on Maria for everything, but the moment things go wrong, they turn their backs on you."

"Neville..."

The two of them (the twins) sniffled at the same time.

You... what a good kid you are, Neville. To be honest, having been burdened with expectations and disappointments in my "previous life," I felt like I was used to this level of treatment. If anything, I was more depressed thinking about what was coming next—like the Triwizard Tournament—but his kindness really hit home. You are a wonderful person, Neville.

And Neville wasn't the only one who didn't throw away our friendship. The Ravenclaw boy I occasionally walked with and Cedric didn't avoid Maria either. That alone was encouraging. One by one, they picked up the pieces of my sinking heart.

Amidst this storm, the very first exams I would take as "Maria" were approaching. Harry and Hermione seemed to be trying to disappear from public view by immersing themselves in their studies. I was busy teaching the four of them—Hermione was the primary teacher, while she occasionally asked me about advanced applications—but I was only growing more gloomy.

I was waiting for that detention to happen. The answer came one week before the exams.

The faces of the two children turned pale as three letters were delivered, issued in the name of Professor McGonagall.