In the end, torn between the temptation of teasing Harry and the oppressive might of Tom's will, Draco Malfoy surrendered.

Tom smiled and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"A wise man submits to the circumstances, Draco. You've made the right choice."

Malfoy forced out a tight, reluctant smile.

"Oh, don't look so miserable," Tom chuckled. "Sure, you've lost one chance to get revenge on Potter—but in return, you've earned my friendship. No more sleepless nights worrying about past… unpleasantness. I'd say that's a much better deal, wouldn't you?"

Draco gave a small nod.

In truth, this was the first time he'd felt genuine relief. Up till now, every time he saw Riddle, he'd get that tight, nervous feeling in his chest—like he was one step from disaster.

But now, Tom owed him a favor. That old grudge between them? Consider it paid. Finally, Draco could interact with Riddle like a normal person—no longer treading on eggshells.

Whistling a carefree tune, Malfoy took his leave.

Tom, having completed his side of the deal, turned his attention to the pile of ingredients Hagrid had delivered. It was time to sort them into proper categories.

—

The week-long holiday flew by in the blink of an eye.

On the final evening of the break, Daphne arrived back at Hogwarts by train.

The moment she spotted Tom, the little witch threw all decorum to the wind. She ran up and wrapped him in a big hug, her familiar shampoo scent washing over him. It was oddly comforting.

Soon joined by Hermione, the three of them made their way to the Room of Requirement. Daphne was practically glowing with excitement as she chatted about Astoria's condition.

Thanks to several doses of the fortifying potion, her little sister's health had visibly improved. Her stamina now rivaled that of a normal girl her age. While Daphne was home, the two of them had spent many carefree hours zipping through the Greengrass estate on broomsticks.

But as she spoke, her enthusiasm slowly dimmed.

Just as Tom had predicted, the potions were only a temporary fix—they treated the symptoms, not the cause.

The curse on Astoria was still very much present. It was like drawing water from a half-empty barrel. For now, the barrel had been refilled—but once the potion lost its effect, the draining would resume. Astoria would eventually return to her frail, sickly state.

Still, the potions had bought them time. Time to breathe. Time to search for a true cure.

Hermione offered a few words of comfort, and seeing Daphne cheer up a little, decided to shift the topic.

She told her about Hagrid… and the dragon egg.

"He's gone mad, hasn't he?" Daphne exclaimed, eyes wide. "Hatching a dragon at Hogwarts? The Howlers from parents alone could flood the castle!"

Hermione just gave a helpless shrug. "It's not just me—Harry and the Weasley twins tried to talk him out of it too. He won't listen to anyone. He insists on hatching it. Whether he plans to keep it or send it away later is still up in the air."

Daphne thought for a moment. "Well… then let him suffer the consequences. The one who'll be pulling their hair out will be the Headmaster, not us. Nothing to do with us students."

Tom nodded in agreement. "Exactly. We're just here for the show. You've never seen a dragon hatch before, have you? This is your chance."

Just today, Tom had checked in on the egg. In the heart of the Gubraithian Fire, the black dragon egg was twitching and shifting more often. Its vitality was evident. It wouldn't be long before the hatchling broke free.

Hermione and Daphne exchanged glances—and just like that, their interest was piqued.

A dragon hatching… now that was something you didn't get to see every day.

—

Tom's prediction was right.

The very next morning, he and Harry received notes from Hagrid—delivered via owl. The message was short. Just four words:

"It's almost hatching."

That was it.

Daphne was instantly distracted. She couldn't focus at all during History of Magic, constantly shifting in her seat and peering out the window every few seconds—eyes darting toward Hagrid's hut, terrified she might miss the big moment.

The second Professor Sprout dismissed them, she grabbed Tom by the hand and dashed out of the classroom. Together, they raced out of the castle and down to the familiar wooden cabin.

Three eager Gryffindors—just dismissed from Herbology—were already approaching. Hagrid, beaming, welcomed all of them inside.

The mood, however, was a little awkward.

The moment they stepped in, Hermione drifted over to stand beside Tom and Daphne. The room now felt distinctly divided.

Hagrid had spun quite the tale for Harry and Ron: that Tom had discovered the dragon egg, and Hagrid had offered him materials and visitation rights in exchange for his silence.

It was… a masterclass in storytelling. A shift from "I got caught" to "I made a strategic trade." Much easier on the pride.

Things between Harry and Tom were… fine. Civil. If Ron hadn't been there, they might've even chatted.

But Ron was there.

Ever since the troll incident before Halloween, things between Ron and Hermione had been frozen solid. Hermione didn't feel she had done anything wrong, and had no interest in making amends.

Ron, who often felt invisible, only saw Hermione growing closer to the Slytherins—and took it very personally.

But Harry? He saw it clearly.

Hermione wasn't "cozying up" to all of Slytherin. She was just close to Tom and Daphne Greengrass. Private friendships didn't mean betraying house loyalty.

Honestly, all the points Hermione had earned for Gryffindor probably outweighed the entire first-year class combined. No one else had the right to criticize who she befriended.

Still… Ron was his best mate. There were some things Harry just couldn't say.

So he kept quiet.

—

Hagrid, oblivious to the tension, turned to Tom with a hopeful look.

"I heard cracking noises this morning—do you think it's time to take the egg out?"

Tom raised his wand and, with a gentle wave, absorbed the Gubraithian Fire back into it. Hagrid hurriedly fetched a tray and carefully set the dragon egg on the dining table.

Hermione and Daphne gave each other a look.

This whole setup… looked suspiciously like they were about to eat it.

There were visible cracks across the eggshell, and every few seconds, it gave a little twitch. Everyone held their breath, eyes locked on the egg, afraid even a whisper might disturb the newborn.

Then—crack!

A sharp, splitting noise echoed through the room as the egg burst open. A tiny dragon, slimy and black, emerged with a bit of the shell still perched on its head. It swayed, confused, letting out a weird, squeaky noise.

Hermione and Daphne both made the same face at the same time.

Disgust.

The baby dragon was ugly. Wrinkled, oily, charcoal-colored—like a soggy, folded-up umbrella. Its body proportions were so off, it wasn't even ugly-cute. It was just… gross. With warty bumps along its back, it looked like something out of a potion gone wrong.

But Hagrid's eyes were sparkling.

"Isn't it beautiful? It's just perfect!"

He reached out, trying to stroke its head—only for the hatchling to bare its teeth and shy away, tiny sparks of flame puffing from its nostrils.

Hagrid blinked, confused.

The little dragon clumsily twisted its body and turned to stare at Tom.

It took a few cautious steps toward him… then yelped, retreated, and curled its wings over its head in fear, trembling.

It clearly wanted to get close—but was too scared.

Everyone looked baffled.

"…Come here, you."

Tom scooped the baby dragon up without hesitation. Holding it in his arms, he gave it a gentle rub.

Despite the ugly exterior, it was surprisingly soft. Its skin felt like a warm, rubbery dumpling, and even the scales hadn't hardened yet.

The dragon gave a tiny purring noise, finally relaxing in his arms.

Its instincts told it clearly—this boy didn't mean harm.

It melted into Tom's touch.

And Tom knew exactly why.