Chapter 36
"At a time like this you suddenly act clever, Malfoy," Gray said. "But if you were really clever, you wouldn't have come over here in the first place."
Tiny motes of light appeared in front of Malfoy, spinning in time with the slow rotation of his suspended body.
Gray studied the boy floating before him, considering his options.
Making Malfoy completely shut up forever wasn't realistic—this was still Hogwarts, and Gray wasn't some villain. But letting him walk away without consequences wasn't an option either. The boy needed a lesson sharp enough to keep his mouth shut.
With that decided, Gray didn't give Malfoy another chance to speak. He flicked his wand.
Malfoy's body began to rise, drifting upward like a kite caught in a strong wind. Within moments he was dozens of meters in the air.
At that height, even if the ground below had been cushioned with a Softening Charm, the impact would still be brutal. Land wrong and he could easily break an arm or a leg.
Malfoy let out a piercing scream, limbs flailing wildly as he begged Gray to let him down.
Gray didn't flinch. He pointed his wand again and cancelled the Levitation Charm.
For one terrible instant Malfoy felt gravity seize him fully, yanking his body downward in free fall.
The force hammered through him, from skin to bone, as though invisible hammers were pounding every inch of his body. He opened his mouth to scream, only to have the rushing wind stuff it full of air.
Ten meters passed in a heartbeat. Just as he hurtled toward the ground, Gray flicked his wand once more.
The Levitation Charm snapped back into place—but this time Gray poured far more power into it. The spell didn't merely arrest his fall; it countered gravity and then pushed upward with roughly equal force.
Caught between two opposing forces, Malfoy's momentum was brutally cancelled, then reversed. His body jerked violently in the opposite direction.
His heart felt as though it had lodged in his throat and was trying to leap out. He clamped both hands over his mouth to keep it shut.
Below, Gray stood with wand raised, conducting the motion like an orchestra leader. He sent Malfoy soaring up and plummeting down again and again, giving him the full experience of a Muggle drop tower.
After several stomach-churning cycles, Gray finally lowered him gently to the grass.
Malfoy's face was bloodless, his sense of direction completely gone. He collapsed to his knees and retched violently—though nothing much came up. Dinner was still some time away; his stomach was empty.
When Malfoy finally stopped heaving and managed to catch his breath, the motes of light reappeared in front of his face.
"That should stick in your memory," Gray said calmly. "Of course, if you'd like to try it again sometime, you're welcome to come find me."
Malfoy's face was as pale as any ghost in the castle.
He wanted to swear it would never happen again, but another spasm in his stomach choked the words before they could form.
Gray had no interest in hearing empty promises. He turned and walked away.
Vague assurances were worthless. A visceral lesson like this one left a far deeper impression—and far less desire to cross him again.
At the very least, Malfoy would think twice—probably ten times—before ever provoking Gray again. Who knew what other unpleasant tricks Gray might have up his sleeve? Malfoy had no intention of finding out.
But fear wasn't the only emotion in Malfoy's eyes. He turned his head toward Hagrid's hut, hatred burning there.
In his mind, this was all a trap set by Potter and Weasley. Why else would he just happen to overhear talk of a dragon egg?
If not for them, he never would have followed, and he never would have suffered this humiliation.
Just wait, he thought furiously, clutching his stomach as he staggered toward the castle. You'll pay for this, Potter and Weasley. I'll make sure of it.
Gray stepped back inside Hagrid's hut. Hagrid, Harry, and Ron immediately crowded around him.
"Who was it? Did you catch him?" they asked in a rush.
Hermione remained seated. A small dragon was still curled contentedly in her lap.
"It was Malfoy," Gray said. "But I've warned him. He won't say anything about Norma. Don't worry."
"I knew it had to be him," Ron muttered angrily. "Only he'd do something like that."
"Sorry, Gray," Harry said, looking guilty. "It must've been when Ron and I were talking after the letter came. We were probably too loud—he must've overheard us."
If the school found out because of their carelessness, Norma would be taken away and Gray might face serious punishment—possibly even expulsion.
Gray shook his head. "It's fine. Everything's still under control. The problem isn't that big. I've dealt with Malfoy—he won't dare try anything else."
All that remained now was to look after Norma for a while longer—until she could breathe fire.
Gray sat down beside Hermione and gently lifted Norma into his arms. She caught his familiar magical scent, didn't even open her eyes, simply stretched her head up to nuzzle his hand once before settling back down.
He glanced at Hermione. In his magical sight, a faint, simplified magical circuit glowed dimly around her wrist like a thin bracelet. The pattern was already fading; in another minute or two it would vanish completely.
He had drawn that simple design on her hand earlier and poured a generous amount of magic into it to keep it stable until he returned.
It was that circuit—carrying Gray's own magical signature—that had allowed Norma to accept Hermione's presence so calmly, curling up in her lap without any sign of aggression.
To the dragon, it probably felt like sitting on a cushion scented with her mother's magic.
"So," Gray said, the motes of light appearing in front of Hermione, "how does holding a dragon feel?"
"Not bad," she replied, "if she could just stay this size forever."
At first she had been a little frightened—especially when she saw those sharp teeth. But once Norma settled peacefully in her lap, a different feeling had taken over.
For one brief moment she had even wished she could keep the dragon forever. But the thought passed quickly. She knew perfectly well she couldn't care for a dragon, and no dragon stayed small like this for long.
"She won't get much bigger in the next week or two," Gray said.
"That's good, then," Hermione answered. But she added firmly, "You do understand you can't keep her forever. She'll have to be sent away eventually."
"I know," Gray said. He ran his hand gently along Norma's back.
He could feel every knob of her spine, every delicate bone. She was still far too thin—little more than a fragile skeleton wrapped in a thin layer of flesh and scales.
Over the coming days he would have to find ways to help her build strength and weight. Otherwise, even when she reached Charlie in Romania, the other dragons would pick on her.
And that wouldn't do at all.
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