Saturday night was thick with the damp scent of earth after a recent rain. Only a few hours remained before the carefully laid plan to move Norbert would be put into motion.
Tamara Riddle had just completed her final check at Hagrid's hut and was now returning alone to the Castle, walking along the narrow path at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Inside, Harry and Hermione stayed behind to assist Hagrid with the last preparations. Stuffing a frisky dragon into a crate was no simple task, and their combined efforts were essential.
Tamara walked lightly, a rare smile gracing her face. Once tonight concluded, that dragon would be sent to Albania, becoming the first asset of her long-term vision—a future she intended to shape with her own hands.
She was about to step out from the shadows of the trees onto the wet lawn leading to the Castle when—
Snap.
A dry branch cracked sharply beneath a foot, sounding far louder in the quiet night than it ever should have. Tamara froze, the small movement enough to alert her instincts.
She tilted her body, hand already slipping into her sleeve, fingers curling around her wand.
"Who's there?" she asked softly, but with the cold authority of someone who rarely asked twice.
From the shadows, a pale head with blonde hair peeked out. A face appeared—pale, almost ghostly in the dim light, but alive with excitement and a hint of malice.
Draco Malfoy.
His robes were soaked with dew and dotted with grass clippings, evidence of a long wait in the dark. Yet nothing could dampen the manic energy in his gray eyes.
"I knew it!" he whispered urgently, though barely able to contain his glee.
"I knew that big oaf was raising something dangerous! I saw it all!"
He pointed toward Hagrid's hut, where faint sparks of fire flickered through a small gap in the curtains.
"That's a dragon! A real dragon!" Draco's voice quivered with excitement. "Potter and Weasley are in there too! They're all involved!"
Tamara studied him calmly, her expression unreadable. She didn't flinch. She didn't panic. She simply asked, "So?"
"So?" Draco's eyes widened, disbelief and indignation warring across his face. "I'm going to report them, of course! I'm going to find Professor McGonagall! No, I'll find Snape!"
He lifted a fist as if ready to strike some invisible enemy. "Raising a dragon in secret is a serious crime! That idiot Hagrid will go to Azkaban! And Potter... Potter will be expelled! Finally, a chance to get him out of Hogwarts!"
With that, he spun around, preparing to dash toward the Castle.
"Stop."
Tamara's voice was quiet, almost polite, yet it struck Draco like an iron rod. He halted mid-step, confusion etching his features.
"Tamara? Don't you want Potter expelled?" he asked, suspicion creeping into his tone.
She approached slowly, her gaze lowering to meet his. The coldness in her eyes made him shiver.
"Stupid," she said simply.
Draco blinked. "Wh... what?"
"I said you're stupid, Draco."
She bent slightly, brushing a fallen leaf from his shoulder with an almost imperceptible elegance. But the weight behind her gaze was unmistakable.
"Do you really think reporting them will benefit you?"
Draco opened his mouth, eager to argue, but Tamara continued before he could.
"Hagrid is Dumbledore's man. Do you honestly believe Dumbledore would let him go to prison over a dragon? At worst, he'd lose his job, or the dragon would be taken away."
"And Potter?" she continued, voice tinged with a sneer. "Unless he kills someone, Dumbledore will always find a way to protect him."
She paused, letting the words settle like cold stones in the night.
"If you report them now, you gain nothing but the hatred of Gryffindor and a reputation as a snitch."
Draco's lips parted. For the first time, he hesitated. Tamara's words made a certain ruthless sense.
"Then... we just watch?" he asked reluctantly.
"This is the Slytherin philosophy of life, Draco," she said, her tone low and instructive, like a teacher guiding a pupil.
"Destroying an enemy directly is the folly of Gryffindor."
"A true Slytherin understands leverage."
"Leverage?" Draco repeated, curiosity lighting his face.
"Exactly." Tamara leaned close, whispering into his ear.
"Right now, this secret is ours. As long as we remain silent, Hagrid will owe us. Potter and Weasley will have to consider our position before they act."
"If you report them now, the leverage is lost."
Her eyes gleamed with a calculating light. "But if you stay silent, it's like placing an invisible chain around their necks. Whatever you might need in the future—rare ingredients from the Forbidden Forest, favors from Hagrid—you only have to tug the chain lightly."
"That is control," she concluded.
Draco listened, awestruck. He had never seen the world this way. In his mind, hatred demanded immediate retaliation. Yet Tamara's words opened a new dimension: control, utility, leverage.
"That's... amazing," he breathed. Excitement rekindled, but this time mingled with deep admiration.
Tamara hid a smirk. Behind the elaborate Slytherin philosophy, there was a simple truth—if Draco reported her now, the Ministry would arrive tonight, and the dragon would be confiscated. It was hers, and she wouldn't let a fool ruin her plans.
She straightened, the lesson concluded. "Nothing happened tonight. You didn't see a dragon. You didn't see Potter. Understood?"
"Understood!" Draco nodded vigorously, pride and excitement bubbling over. "Our secret weapon, right?"
"Exactly." Tamara inclined her head, eyes glinting with approval.
"Go back to sleep, Draco. Be a clever Malfoy, not a brat who tattles."
"Okay, Tamara! Goodnight!"
Watching him run back toward the Castle, a grin of sudden enlightenment on his face, Tamara exhaled slowly, a mixture of relief and satisfaction.
[Ding! Detected: The host successfully prevented a malicious reporting incident.]
[System Evaluation: You not only protected the Half-Giant from potential imprisonment but also taught a misguided classmate about tolerance and vision.]
[This was a perfect quality education!]
[Reward: Wisdom +1]
[Current Wisdom: 31]
Tamara glanced at the system panel, lips curling into a teasing arc.
"Tolerance?" she murmured. "Vision? The system needs an ophthalmologist."
She turned her gaze back toward Hagrid's hut. The rain still fell, rhythmically, softly.
In just a few hours, that dragon would be hers.
"Everything is going according to plan," she whispered to herself, a shadow of triumph in her voice.
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