— — — — — —
So...
Anyone who's done shady things before knows that gut-wrenching feeling the moment you're caught.
Your limbs go numb. Your mind blanks out. It feels like being thrown into an icy pit.
Right now, that was exactly how Hagrid felt.
It was like fate was playing a cruel joke—history repeating itself. Fifty years ago, a boy named Tom Riddle found out he was secretly raising an Acromantula, and he ended up getting expelled from Hogwarts. If it weren't for Dumbledore standing up for him back then, he'd have been banned from the grounds entirely. He was lucky to be allowed to stay on as gamekeeper.
Now, fifty years later, another Tom Riddle had shown up. Also a Slytherin. Also a top student. And also... found out he was keeping a magical creature hidden away.
History really did repeat itself. Was he stuck in a damn loop?
"..."
This was actually the first real interaction Hagrid ever had with this Tom. Well, to be precise, it was their first interaction ever. Before this, Hagrid had always avoided him like the plague—they weren't even on greeting terms.
"Well, well… what do we have here?"
Tom didn't bother waiting for an invitation before walking into the room. He ignored the clutter like it didn't even exist and headed straight to the fireplace.
The firewood crackled loudly, occasionally shooting out sparks, but it didn't distract Tom. He stood there for a few seconds, then nodded slightly. "Not bad. That's a Norwegian Ridgeback. Pretty powerful as dragons go."
Despite his fear of Tom Riddle, Hagrid's love for dragons kicked in. He lit up with excitement. "A Norwegian Ridgeback? Are you sure?! Really?!"
"Black shell, glossy like obsidian, square scale pattern... what else could it be?" Tom gave him a look like he was starting to question Hagrid's qualifications. "Don't tell me you can't even recognize a dragon egg properly."
To be fair, Hagrid had just borrowed a stack of dragon books from the library. He hadn't had the chance to crack them open yet before Tom dropped by.
"Fantastic!" Hagrid grinned wide. "I love Ridgebacks. They've got tough bodies, strong as anything... absolutely adorable!"
"You might want to hold off on celebrating."
Tom's casual reply instantly drained the color from Hagrid's face.
Crap! He'd been so excited, he forgot the massive problem still standing right there.
"R-Riddle... what do you want?" Hagrid stammered.
The towering half-giant suddenly looked like a nervous bride on her wedding day, voice soft and shaky. "I... I can explain where the egg came from—really."
"Save it. I'm not interested."
Tom waved him off and sat down at the table like he owned the place, while Hagrid stood there awkwardly. At that moment, it was hard to tell who was the guest and who actually lived here.
"I believe what I see. That egg is in your possession. Whether you hunted it yourself or bought it off a poacher, I don't care."
"If you do want to explain, maybe save it for the Ministry investigators. Or better yet... chat with the Dementors in Azkaban?"
Thud!
Hagrid collapsed like someone had just yanked the bones out of his body. He hit the floor so hard it cracked the wooden planks. Tom raised an eyebrow at the sight.
People say dogs take after their masters, and looking at Hagrid, that felt oddly accurate. Kinda...
"I don't wanna go to Azkaban... I don't wanna go..." Hagrid mumbled over and over, curling up and trembling.
He stared at Tom like he wasn't looking at a person, but a ghost from the past.
Tom tilted his head. "But now that I think about it, what would I even get out of turning you in?"
Hagrid's heart lurched again, like he was riding a rollercoaster with no seatbelt.
"You're someone Dumbledore clearly trusts. I don't know why he trusts you, but... ruining my relationship with him over you just wouldn't be worth it."
"I'm a Slytherin, Hagrid." Tom's tone softened as he watched the giant calm down. "And what do Slytherins value most? Usefulness. If you can be useful to me... we could be friends. Don't you think?"
"That's not what friendship is..." Hagrid muttered under his breath. But when he saw Tom's gaze darken, he quickly switched gears.
"Okay, fine, I want to be your friend, Riddle—I mean, Tom. But what do you want from me? Just so we're clear... I'm not betraying Dumbledore. I'd rather go to Azkaban."
Hagrid, for once, showed a bit of cleverness—setting his boundary right away.
Tom blinked at him, looking amused. "Since when does a student like me have the power to make you betray the headmaster? You've got quite the imagination, don't you?"
"Then what will it take for you not to report me?"
Tom glanced at the dragon egg. "Well, if you can get your hands on a dragon egg, that tells me you've got some... unconventional connections. I'm currently in need of potion ingredients and rare herbs. You help me collect them, and not only will I keep quiet—I'll also take care of that Malfoy situation for you."
"That's it? That's all you want?" Hagrid asked, wide-eyed.
Potion materials and herbs?
Wasn't that stuff lying all over the Forbidden Forest?
Tom was being way too forgiving.
What Hagrid didn't realize was just how hard this would be for literally anyone else. Navigating the Forbidden Forest wasn't just a walk in the park. Between the magical creature tribes and the labyrinth-like terrain, finding the right materials was like hunting needles in multiple haystacks.
Honestly, besides Hagrid, maybe only Newt Scamander could treat the place like his backyard.
Tom pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill from the table and started writing a list. He took five whole minutes before finally putting the quill down.
Hagrid looked at the list and let out a relieved sigh.
Luckily, most of these could be found right in the Forbidden Forest. The few he didn't have access to, he knew people in Knockturn Alley who'd trade for forest goods.
"No problem. Give me a few days and I'll get it all."
Tom held up three fingers. "You've got three days. After that, I expect everything on this list—and it better be top quality. Try to pass off subpar junk, and you'll see Dumbledore's disappointed face with your name on it."
Hagrid nodded so fast he looked like a bobblehead. He was ready to risk it all—for the sake of becoming a dragon mum.
Truth be told, Tom's main target was the venom of Acromantulas. That's why he specifically emphasized quality—a subtle hint for Hagrid to go to Aragog to collect the good stuff.
Tom had been busy lately trying to get in good with the unicorns. The Acromantulas he came across were mostly younglings, and their venom was too weak. Rather than waste his time, he figured it'd be easier to outsource the job to Hagrid. And once he got used to doing it once, it'd be easy to rope him in again later.
Tom stood up, and Hagrid thought he was finally leaving—he even let out a breath of relief.
But just as quickly, he walked over to the fireplace again, his expression full of disdain."You seriously don't know how important temperature is for hatching a dragon? Using an ordinary fireplace for this—this might end up being the weakest dragon I've ever seen."
Hagrid looked even more hurt. "But... that's the best I could give him..."
Tom didn't respond. He calmly pulled out his wand and extinguished the fire in the hearth. Hagrid nearly panicked, thinking he was about to kill the dragon egg—until he heard Tom mutter a quiet incantation. A moment later, a stream of bright white flames shot from the tip of his wand and landed in the fireplace.
The temperature in the room shot up immediately. Hagrid stood there, stunned.
"What kind of fire is that?" he asked, eyes wide.
"Gubraithian Fire. It never goes out. Just leave the fireplace alone until the egg's ready to hatch—then call me, and I'll remove it."
With that, Tom left.
Hagrid, meanwhile, was practically bouncing with joy. He'd heard of Gubraithian Fire, the Everlasting fire, but never thought he'd see it in person.
He laughed in disbelief... until he didn't.
Wait—wasn't Gubraithian Fire supposed to be a spell only top-level wizards could cast?
How in Merlin's name did Riddle manage to do that?
Hagrid sat in silence for a long moment... then suddenly shivered.
Yep. Every guy named Tom really was a monster.
The truth was, Gubraithian Fire hadn't even been Tom's first choice.
If Dumbledore had been conveniently 'missing' for a while, Tom might've tried using cursed Fiendfyre instead—just to see if it would hatch an evil dragon.
But unfortunately, old Dumbels was still lurking around the school like a shut-in. Which meant not just Tom, but even Quirrell had to behave.
---
The holidays had started, giving Tom more time for self-study. He practically lived in the Room of Requirement. In the mornings, Hermione trained under his guidance, and in the afternoons, he studied alone. Whenever he got hungry, Pala would bring him food.
At this point, Pala had basically moved into Hogwarts, working as the private chef for both Tom and Daphne. Occasionally, even Hermione got to enjoy a real meal thanks to her closeness to them.
Hermione herself had started learning cooking from Hanna, but she didn't have the time or elf-like talent. So, she hadn't dared cook for Tom yet—terrified that he might not like it.
...
Over on Malfoy's end, things were a little... weirder.
Ever since he got something huge to blackmail Harry with, Draco had been strutting around like a prince. He'd go out of his way to bump into Harry, flash him a knowing smirk, and watch with satisfaction as Harry flinched in panic.
He didn't even realize how weird he was acting.
To Crabbe and Goyle, it looked... suspiciously like flirting.
In truth, Malfoy was toying with Harry—dangling the secret over his head but telling no one. He wanted Harry stuck in constant anxiety and dread. Once he got bored, then he'd report him. That way, Potter and that stupid half-blood oaf Hagrid would both get what they deserved.
But Malfoy's fun only lasted three days.
On the third day, Hagrid gathered all the ingredients Tom had asked for. They met at the hut to make the exchange. Tom inspected everything and gave a small, satisfied nod.
The materials were top-notch—especially the Acromantula venom. It was way better than the stuff he'd managed to collect himself.
"...Looks good." Tom shrank the sack of ingredients with a charm and tucked it into his pocket.
"Don't worry—I won't tell anyone. Well, except Daphne and Hermione. Once the dragon hatches, I'll bring them to see it."
"And I'll deal with Malfoy, too. You don't need to worry."
"Thanks, Tom!" Hagrid said gratefully. "If you ever need anything else, just say the word!"
"Oh, I will." Tom wasn't shy about it. This was the only real use he had for Hagrid.
— — —
Back in the Slytherin common room, Tom looked around but didn't see Malfoy.
"Rosier, you know where Malfoy is?"
Rosier looked up from his joke book, still chuckling. "I heard him tell Goyle he was headed to the West Tower to shoot birds or something."
"Go get him," Tom said, waving his hand like it was nothing.
Rosier scrambled to obey. Worried he wouldn't find Draco alone, he even dragged a groggy Nott and Zabini out of bed to help.
Half an hour later, a nervous Malfoy finally stood in front of Tom.
Tom brought him alone into the dormitory, which only made Draco more anxious.
Wait—what was going on?
Was Tom finally coming to settle an old score?
That couldn't be. Their conflict was last year. After that, they'd stayed out of each other's way. Malfoy didn't even dare mess with Daphne or Hermione. So what now?
"Malfoy, I know about the dragon."
Instantly, most of Draco's panic vanished.
Ohhh, so that's what this was about. He grinned excitedly. "Riddle, are you going to tell Professor Snape? I think you should wait. It's still just an egg right now. If we wait until it hatches into a full dragon, the consequences will be way worse. Plus, I can mess with Potter for a bit longer."
"You're not telling anyone about the dragon."
Malfoy's grin disappeared.
"Why not?!" he demanded, his fear of Tom slipping in the face of his outrage.
Tom held up two fingers. "One, Hagrid bought me off. Call it a business arrangement."
Draco's face turned red with anger.
"Two, even if you did snitch, it wouldn't do any real damage."
"That's impossible! Professor Snape would take loads of points! Tons of points!"
Tom stayed calm. "Sure. But Dumbledore would protect them. He doesn't bother with small stuff—but this? This is serious. Possibly illegal. You really think he wouldn't step in for Hagrid and Potter?"
"Uh..."
Malfoy wasn't sure about Potter, but when it came to Hagrid? Yeah, Dumbledore's loyal mutt would absolutely be protected. Even a huge scandal would get swept under the rug.
He clenched his fists. So unfair! So infuriating!
When would Slytherin finally stop getting stomped on by Gryffindor and Dumbledore?
Tom noticed his frustration and offered a consolation: "I'm only stopping you from telling the professors and other students. But if you want to use it to scare Potter? Go for it. Mention the dragon every now and then—keep him nervous. That should keep you entertained, yeah?"
Malfoy thought it over. These past few days had been fun. And if he didn't tell the teachers, he could keep the fear going indefinitely...
Yeah. He could live with that.
.
.
.