"You saw it, Hagrid."
Rock hadn't even finished speaking when a knock rattled the hut door.
"Hagrid, it's us!"
Harry and Ron sounded completely out of breath—they'd clearly sprinted the whole way.
Rock stood up and opened the door. Harry and Ron burst straight inside. Hermione slipped in right behind them and gave Rock a quick nod.
Rock waved her the rest of the way in, then stepped outside himself.
"Malfoy, it's pretty late. You wanna come in and sit for a bit?"
Rock's tone stayed flat and casual. Inside the hut, though, Hagrid let out a startled yelp and yanked his moleskin coat over Norberta's crate to hide her.
Harry and Ron exchanged a panicked glance. They'd been followed?
Hermione moved up beside Rock and squinted into the dark. After a second she frowned. "Rock, are you sure you didn't see wrong?"
Rock didn't answer. He simply pointed his wand toward a clump of bushes.
"Lumos!"
Bright light flooded the spot. Hermione's sharp eyes caught the bushes rustling. She clapped a hand over her mouth.
"Come out," Rock called, "or I'll hit you with Incendio."
Malfoy kept playing dead, so Rock raised his voice again. "Incen—"
"Don't! I'm coming out!"
Malfoy's panicked voice cracked from the bushes. With anyone else he might've laughed and asked if they could even cast the spell. But this was Rock. He wasn't stupid enough to test it.
"Talk. What the hell are you doing out here this late?"
Rock stepped forward until he stood right in front of the blond boy.
"I was just… taking a walk." Malfoy kept his head down and backed up a few steps.
Ever since their last run-in, Malfoy had made avoiding Rock his personal mission.
"I hope that's true. And don't even think about getting someone else to tip off the professors. Otherwise your dear father might get another headache."
Rock whispered the last part straight into Malfoy's ear—quiet, but it still made the kid flinch.
"Y-yes… I understand." Malfoy nodded fast, spun around, and practically ran back toward the castle.
Rock raised an eyebrow. Looked like Lucius had been having a rough couple of weeks.
He turned, walked back inside the hut, gave the still-dazed Hermione a gentle push through the door, and shut it firmly behind them.
When he turned around, Harry and Ron were both staring at the floor, guilty as sin. They clearly knew their big mouths had led Malfoy straight here.
"Sorry, Rock, we…"
Harry bit his lip, cheeks burning.
"It's fine. Malfoy won't dare say anything anyway." Rock shrugged it off and walked over to Hagrid. "But Hagrid, our plan just got moved up."
Hagrid looked utterly crestfallen. Now that they'd been spotted, he had no choice—he'd have to send Norberta away fast, or risk Azkaban.
"Oh, Merlin's beard!"
Hermione shrieked, pointing at the moleskin coat Hagrid had just thrown over the crate.
"Aguamenti!"
A clean jet of water poured down from above the crate and instantly doused the flames.
"Hagrid, looks like you're gonna need fresh supplies. Otherwise next winter's gonna suck." Rock chuckled.
Inside the crate, Norberta puffed out her tiny chest and shot a proud little flame.
"Yeah… but Rock, I'll need you to call your grandpa." Hagrid stared at the charred coat on the floor and nodded without hesitation.
These past days Rock's constant talking-to had finally let reason beat out Hagrid's dragon-dad instincts.
"Happy to help." Rock gave a slightly theatrical little bow. Free dragon? Hell yes he'd take it.
"But we still need some safety measures first."
Rock waved his wand, turning the ruined moleskin coat into a thick, sturdy rope. He wrapped it tight around Norberta's snout—she'd already grown noticeably bigger.
"Besides feeding time, I think we should keep that mouth tied shut."
She was small now. Any bigger and they'd need actual chains.
"Rock, isn't that a bit much?" Hagrid protested, but he was already drifting back toward the crate, completely enchanted again.
Weirdly enough, Norberta actually looked up at him through the bars with big, pitiful eyes, leaning forward like a kicked puppy. The act hit Hagrid right in the heart—he was done for.
This little dragon was… straight-up manipulative.
Rock barked a laugh. "Kid, you've really got skills."
"Awooo—"
With her mouth bound, Norberta could only let out a sad, muffled whine that sounded disturbingly like a puppy.
---
Back in the Slytherin dormitory, Malfoy dropped onto his bed, heart still hammering from the run.
Crabbe and Goyle traded confused glances, unsure whether to ask what happened.
"He didn't even say it out loud…"
Malfoy kept replaying the moment. If Rock had shouted everything, Malfoy would've been completely humiliated in front of Potter.
(As for the whole "real rival" thing with Rock… yeah, that ship had sailed.)
After getting wrecked by Rock's string of spells last time, Malfoy had finally accepted he wasn't even in the same league.
His father had said the exact same thing.
Lucius had warned him: stop poking the Scamander kid.
Which meant Malfoy had dropped any idea of "targeting" him. That kind of game only worked on people like Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Against Rock it was just asking to get crushed.
"He must've kept quiet so I wouldn't lose face in front of Potter. Yeah! That has to be it!"
Malfoy nodded firmly to himself like he'd solved some grand mystery.
Crabbe and Goyle just stared. Their young master had clearly lost it.
The first time that particular thought crossed their troll-sized brains, they silently crawled back into their own beds.
Malfoy kept muttering excitedly. The idea that Rock had simply been threatening him? Nah. Didn't exist.
A real man drew his wand for a proper duel.
Rock had no clue what Malfoy was thinking. If he had, he probably would've just sighed and muttered, "Yeah… pureblood brain. Totally fried."
---
Newt showed up fast—at least, he arrived the very next day after Rock sent the letter.
Inside Hagrid's hut, Newt was already calmly making Norberta roll over and lie down on command.
Rock watched his grandfather work and could only twitch the corner of his mouth.
Sure enough, everything came down to one word: submission.
The second Norberta first saw Newt, she'd tried baring her teeth. But the instant Newt opened his case and the combined presence of several magical creatures leaked out, the baby Norwegian Ridgeback—who hadn't even seen her first full moon yet—started trembling.
She was a dragon, sure. But not an adult one.
So Norberta obediently followed every single one of Newt's instructions.
Every so often she'd sneak a nervous glance at the small leather suitcase beside him… and at the tiny spiked egg sac wrapped around his pinky finger.