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[Hogwarts] Ch 102: Newt's Letter & The Dragon Egg
🕑 Added 2025-07-22 17:59:48 +0000 UTC— — — — — —
Cantankerus Nott's Pure-Blood Directory was nothing short of legendary. The entire concept of the "Sacred Twenty-Eight" pure-blood families basically started with that book.
A certain group—yes, the Slytherin-type purists—absolutely adored it. To them, the book was proof of their superiority and noble blood.
Others, though, couldn't care less. Take the Weasleys, for instance—they stayed true to themselves, regardless of what some dusty old book said.
But let's be honest: even though the Weasleys love to talk about Muggle acceptance, when it comes to choosing a partner, they still tend to stick to their own kind. Case in point, Mrs. Weasley was originally a Prewett—another name on that sacred list.
As for the author's own family—the Notts—well, that's the same Nott who roomed with Tom back at school. Unsurprisingly, the book he wrote sang endless praises for the old Slytherin pure-blood families, laying it on thick.
Which is why Tom had never taken it too seriously.
But if what Snape just said was true… then Nott's comments about the Greengrass family actually lined up with reality?
"A family that will never fade? That can't be right," Tom muttered. "Even the Gaunts, direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin himself, fell into ruin. What's so special about the Greengrasses?"
Snape shook his head. "I don't know. After all, I was never really part of that circle."
Even someone like Snape, who was absurdly talented and made it all the way into the inner circle of the Death Eaters, never quite fit in. Those pure-blood families were all interconnected by blood, and to them, Snape was just the shame of the line—never truly one of them.
His friendship with Malfoy? That was because they got along in school. And later, when Snape rose through Voldemort's ranks, the Malfoys made sure to stay on his good side.
"But," Snape hesitated for a moment before continuing, "back when the Dark Lord was at his peak, the Greengrasses remained neutral. He even visited them himself once… and afterward, he gave strict orders that no one was to bother them."
"Honestly, that command was pretty unnecessary. No one in their right mind would go messing with them in the first place."
"Now if you want to know what secret they're hiding, your best bet is to ask Lady Greengrass. She's… well, she's quite impressive."
Now Tom was even more intrigued. But Snape had clearly told him everything he knew—pushing further wouldn't help.
So, Tom switched topics decisively. "Professor, what do you think of this paper?"
Snape looked at him. "Aside from the type of potion you described here, have you run any tests on other types?"
Tom raised his hands in surrender. "Professor, I'm still a kid. Between classes and homework, where would I find the time to run all those experiments? That's where you come in."
"I can list you as second author, how about that? Pretty generous, right?"
Snape nearly snorted.
He'd published more papers as lead author than he could count. Did he care about being a second author?
Well… okay, maybe just a little.
Because if Tom's theory actually held up, it would change the entire process of potion-making. This could be a groundbreaking paper—one that might just shake the field. That kind of academic legacy did matter to someone like Snape.
So even though he knew Tom was just dumping all the tedious work on him, Snape had no choice but to accept.
"I'll verify it myself," he said at last.
He used a Doubling Charm to duplicate the manuscript and placed the original in his drawer. Then he looked at Tom seriously.
"If everything checks out, this paper alone could get you into the Extraordinary Society of Potioneers as a full-fledged member."
Tom's eyes widened. "Whoa."
"An eleven-year-old member…" Snape smirked. "Remarkable."
The Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers was the most prestigious potion research group in the magical world. Honestly, it was like an academic monopoly—hoarding a ridiculous amount of cutting-edge potion knowledge. Even Snape was proud to be part of it.
Naturally, Tom wasn't going to pass up a chance to boost his academic standing.
But he had another goal too.
He leaned forward slightly. "Professor, do you think this paper could earn me a Special Award for Services?"
Snape's eyes lit up instantly.
A Special Award for Services to the School? If Tom got that, Slytherin could easily gain 100… 200 points, maybe more. That would seal the House Cup seven years in a row!
"I'll do everything I can to make it happen," Snape said immediately.
"Don't rush, Professor. Let's do it my way…" Tom smiled and whispered something else.
Snape's face shifted from confusion to disbelief, then finally, a resigned nod.
"Fine. We'll do it your way."
"Professor," Tom grinned. "You really are the perfect Slytherin."
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Careful, that sounded suspiciously like an insult."
Tom casually threw up a common Muggle hand gesture as he walked out of Snape's office.
...
Things were finally starting to look up. First, Snape had approved his paper. And the very next morning, the reply he'd been waiting for arrived.
With a flap of wings, the school owls swept into the Great Hall, dropping off letters and newspapers to their respective owners.
Tom caught his just in time before it could fall into the milk jug. When he saw Newt Scamander's name on the envelope, his eyes lit up. He tore it open on the spot.
{To Mr. Tom Riddle}
{I'm delighted to see such a bright student with such a strong passion for magical creatures. When I received your letter, I had just rescued a pair of pale banshees—must've been your good luck.}
{Magical creatures are endlessly fascinating, each with their own quirks and charms. I've never really 'tamed' any of them—at best, I've earned their trust. But I'd be happy to share a few suggestions from my experience.}
{Unicorns are exceptionally pure beings. So, gaining their trust is particularly difficult. It's important that you look them in the eye as much as possible—they can sense intent through your gaze.}
{Also…... here are a few of their favorite foods. I've included several recipe options.}
{All living creatures have the instinct to grow stronger. If you can find a way to help a unicorn grow, it just might choose to follow you willingly.}
{Yours sincerely, Newt Scamander}
Newt really lived up to his reputation as the nicest man in the wizarding world (excluding Grindelwald's opinion, of course). This was their first letter exchange, and he'd already gone above and beyond—not just responding seriously, but even including multiple feeding recipes for unicorns.
Tom couldn't help but feel a little guilty. The guy was just too generous.
There were tons of helpful details in the letter—stuff you'd never find in textbooks.
For instance, Tom finally understood why the baby unicorn always seemed to eat so little. It wasn't that the unicorn was full… it just didn't like the food. It was tolerating the meals at best.
Tom wasted no time. That very day, he placed an order at Diagon Alley's potion shops and magical creature stores for everything listed in Newt's unicorn diet.
But when the ingredients arrived, he realized he wasn't exactly a master chef. So, he asked Daphne's house-elf, Pala, to help with the prep. Pala had picked up most of her skills from Hanna, but compared to Hanna's mother—Madam Abbott, the true queen of the kitchen—there was still a long way to go. Hanna had learned everything she knew from her.
...
Sure enough, with the new food, the baby unicorn happily scarfed down its meal. Its big, adorable eyes even looked at Tom with a bit more affection than before. The distance between them had now closed to just a few meters.
At this rate, it wouldn't be long before that gap disappeared entirely.
The two adult unicorns had also returned, though Tom still kept his distance—he would just lock eyes with the little one for a moment and then leave.
In his mind, earning the unicorn's trust and loyalty wasn't some form of manipulation or control. He was acting with a clear conscience.
---
Soon, winter melted away, and the land was reborn in spring's colors. And with the warmer weather, Quidditch season returned.
Snape had been in a great mood lately. Tom's potion extraction method had held up perfectly under testing—just a few tweaks in dosage and the result was a more potent brew.
But what really put a spring in his step?
He'd been named the referee for Gryffindor's next Quidditch match.
The moment the news broke, the Gryffindor team looked like someone had died. They were completely devastated.
Hufflepuff students, being the decent folks they are, tried their best not to laugh—but their smirks were impossible to hide. Every time they passed a Gryffindor in the corridor, they had to turn away to avoid bursting out in giggles.
But on the day of the match, Dumbledore's unexpected appearance brought a visible wave of relief to the Gryffindor team.
Quirrell, on the other hand, bolted the second he saw the Headmaster—only pausing long enough to shoot Harry a hateful glare before disappearing around the corner.
Snape didn't seem too thrilled either, but Dumbledore showing up didn't change his mind. He'd agreed to ref the match to keep Harry safe… but that didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun with it.
Honestly, the kid looked just like James Potter. And once he got on a broom, he really brought back memories of that cocky showoff.
But in a twist that stunned everyone, Harry didn't give Snape any chances to mess with him. Right after Snape awarded Hufflepuff two penalty shots, Harry caught the Golden Snitch—right under their noses.
Tom, meanwhile, was furiously clicking away with his magical camera, capturing every glorious second. Right now, Snape's face was pale as a ghost, his lips pressed into a thin line, a bit of blood seeping through from biting too hard.
A face like that deserved to be framed. Maybe he'd gift it to Snape for Christmas.
...
After the match, Tom slipped into the Forbidden Forest like he was just heading home. He was there to visit his beloved little unicorn.
As for how to help it grow into something stronger? Neither of the two old geezers in the study space had a clue. Newt hadn't mentioned anything in his letter either, which probably meant even he didn't know.
Tom had even considered giving the little unicorn one of his potions—he pretty much used them as boosters now—but the moment the unicorn caught a whiff of the dragonblood in it, it bolted in fear, trembling eyes full of panic.
Tom had no choice but to put it away and spend a good while calming the creature down before it was willing to approach him again.
---
Before long, it was time for the last school holiday of the year—Easter break.
It was shorter than Christmas break—only seven days. Most students chose to stay at school, but Daphne still went home. She missed her sister and wanted to see how she was doing now that she was better.
She left teary-eyed, only climbing into the carriage after Tom promised they'd call through the twin mirrors every night.
Tom let out a long sigh of relief. He was just about to head back and ask Pala to prepare afternoon tea when he spotted Harry and Ron sneaking into Hagrid's hut. The way they were tiptoeing around, you'd think they had 'HEY!! We're up to something' tattooed on their foreheads.
And sure enough, not long after, Tom spotted another sneaky figure tailing them.
As expected—nobody obsessed over Harry Potter quite like Draco Malfoy.
Tom thought for a second… and followed.
Inside Hagrid's hut, things were heating up.
Literally. The fireplace was blazing, far too hot for spring. And right in the middle of the flames sat a pitch-black egg.
"A real dragon," Ron whispered, crouching by the fire to get a closer look. "That must've cost you a fortune."
"I won it," Hagrid beamed. "Was out drinking in the village last night. Met this Greek guy—he lost the egg to me in a game of cards. Bet he just wanted to get rid of it. It's a real handful, this one."
Harry stared at the half-giant in disbelief. "Hagrid, if you know it's a problem, then why on earth would you take it? You do know it's illegal to privately raise dragons, right?"
"But it's a living creature, Harry! How could I say no to that?" Hagrid looked down at the egg with the kind of affection most people reserved for their babies. He'd fully stepped into the role of dragon mom.
"You don't exactly have room for it," Ron said, glancing around the tiny wooden hut. "In a month, that dragon's gonna burst through your roof."
But Hagrid wasn't listening anymore. He waved them off with a grumble. "Don't worry. I'll handle it."
Just then, Harry happened to glance toward the window—and nearly leapt out of his seat.
"Malfoy!"
"Huh?" Ron stood up. "Don't ruin the moment by bringing up that guy."
"No, I saw him! Malfoy was just peeking in through the window—he saw the dragon egg!"
Harry bolted to the door, but it was already too late. The second Malfoy realized he'd been spotted, he turned and ran. It was practically the Malfoy family motto: (always avoid danger)
And considering Hagrid could probably crush a man's skull with one punch… well, smart move from Malfoy.
Hagrid's joy deflated in an instant. Harry and Ron tried to comfort him, but there wasn't much they could do except head back to the castle and think of a solution.
Just as Hagrid was about to step out to gather food for his soon-to-hatch dragon baby, a voice rang out at the door—light, amused, and far too familiar.
"Well, well… what do we have here? A dragon egg from who-knows-where… and a gamekeeper trying to illegally raise dragons?"
Hagrid froze. His face went pale as he looked toward the doorway, where the boy stood with a smirk.
"T-T-T-TOM RIDDLE?"
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