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“What happened to the points last night?” was the first thing Minerva heard when she got to the staff table for breakfast that morning.
It was Pomona who’d said it. She had a faintly disappointed air, but it was paired with a curious gleam in her eyes that Minerva recognized as that of one looking for gossip.
“Four students out of bed at midnight,” Minerva sighed.
“Oh? Do tell,” Pomona urged.
“Potter, Granger, Longbottom, and Malfoy,” she began.
“Now that sounds like a story,” said Pomona.
“Aha! That explains why Severus isn’t gloating about Slytherin taking the lead again, yet. You had to wake him up, didn’t you?” said Filius.
Minerva looked down the table. Severus was on the other side of Filius, and he was indeed looking just as grouchy as usual, hunched over his tea. He looked up, feeling their eyes on him. “Yes, I was called to deal with it, as well. Middle of the bloody night, couldn’t get back to sleep again afterwards. And now I’ve got to write a letter to Lucius to tell him his son’s got detention because he was trying to follow that brat Potter.”
“Follow him where?” asked Pomona.
“Malfoy had this cockamamie story about Potter having a dragon that he was smuggling through the school. Utterly ridiculous, but he certainly believed it,” Minerva said, buttering her toast. “My best guess is that Potter and his friends fed Malfoy the story as a prank, hoping to get him into trouble. They then couldn’t resist checking to see if it worked, getting caught themselves. Poor Longbottom was trying to warn them about Malfoy.”
Aurora spoke up from Minerva’s other side. “And where was Weasley in all this? He, Potter, and Granger are usually inseparable.”
“Weasley’s in hospital, has been since Thursday.” This was Poppy, sitting to Aurora’s left. “He had some kind of bite on his hand - he claimed it was a dog bite, but it was clearly something venomous. I’ve had a devil of a time getting it to clear up. I’ve no idea what it could have been, I didn’t think there were any creatures in the forest with that kind of bite… It’s almost enough to make me believe that line about the dragon,” Poppy laughed. “Nevertheless, I am hopeful that I’ll be able to release him in time for classes tomorrow, depending on how it looks this afternoon.”
The conversation moved on after that, but Minerva’s attention was caught on the bit about Weasley. It was too much of a coincidence that he had gotten an unidentifiable poisonous bite on his hand the same week that Potter and Granger were caught out of bed in the middle of the night, with Malfoy going on about a dragon. She still doubted there had ever been a dragon, but what if those three had gotten into something a bit more dangerous than a prank on a classmate?
Disquieted, Minerva got up from the staff table, intending to go to the hospital wing. She was so distracted she barely remembered to say hello to Hagrid, who was coming in the opposite direction. He was drooping, and looked a bit sniffly. Hm, she hoped he hadn’t caught a cold. Any virus that could make a half-giant look so miserable would surely rip through the students.
Ronald Weasley looked just as miserable as Hagrid. His right hand was bandaged from fingertip to well past the wrist, and he looked incredibly bored. He also, if she was any judge, looked anxious.
He perked up when he caught sight of Minerva, and the nervous look intensified. “Morning, Professor,” he said.
“Good morning, Mr. Weasley. I trust you slept well?”
He grunted assent.
“I've just come to see how you’re holding up. I heard you were bitten this week by a - what was it, again?” and she gave him her most piercing look.
Ron gulped, but lifted his chin. “A dog, professor.”
“Is that so.”
“Yes, professor.”
The silence stretched.
“I’ll be frank, Mr. Weasley. I don’t believe you. Madam Pomfrey was telling me just a few minutes ago that it was clearly the bite of some venomous creature, though she doesn’t know what. Now what was it?”
The boy’s jaw clenched. “I’m telling you, it was a dog!” he said. “Maybe the bite got infected by something I touched afterward, maybe in Potions class.”
“Weasley. I know full well you missed your Potions class this week due to already being in the hospital wing.”
“It was a dog, Professor.”
Minerva eyed him. Weasley stared stubbornly back. Frankly, she was disappointed. His honesty after Halloween, when he’d told her the real reason the Granger girl had been in the bathroom, had led her to think he had a higher moral character than this tomfoolery would suggest.
She sighed. Perhaps if she told him why she was so concerned, he might be more forthcoming.
“Mr. Weasley, you may not be aware of this, but your compatriots Mr. Potter and Miss Granger were found out of bounds last night, along with Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Longbottom. Mr. Malfoy had a wild story involving a dragon, and Longbottom seemed to be there to warn the other two. Now, I highly doubt there was an actual dragon involved,” at this, she noticed Weasley, who had paled considerably as she spoke, took a deep breath and sat up straighter, “but the fact remains that you three are generally inseparable, and you have been bitten by something venomous.”
She softened her tone as she went on, “Weasley, I ask because I worry you and your friends may have gotten into something dangerous. It is my job to look after you while you are here, both as your head of house and as deputy headmistress. If I am not fully informed, then I cannot do my job to protect my students.”
The boy bit his lip when she finished, looking conflicted. After a long minute, he slowly began to speak. “It really was a dog, Professor. But, even if it were a dangerous dog, you wouldn’t have to worry. It’s long gone by now.”
She parsed this. Not the truth, but a crumb, at least. She’d take it. But, “How can you be certain?”
“We sent for someone to take the dog away. It got sent far away, where it could roam free and not be a danger to anyone. I swear there’s no more danger to us or anyone else from - from the dog that bit me.” He looked up at her earnestly, his eyes pleading with her to understand.
“Will you not tell me anything else?” Minerva asked.
He shook his head. “Sorry, Professor. I can’t. I don’t want to get anyone else in trouble.”
She pursed her lips. “Very well. I wish you a swift recovery, then, Mr. Weasley.”
As she swept out of the hospital wing, she heard Weasley blow out a long, relieved breath.
Minerva was still mulling over the boy’s words later that day when Irma Pince came up to her in the staff room.
“Minerva, there’s something I’d like to show you in the library.”
Intrigued, Minerva followed. Once there, Irma took her behind the desk to the stacks of returned books.
“Now, ordinarily I wouldn’t do this, a man needs some privacy after all, but I thought you should see the items just returned by Mr. Hagrid.” Her lips thinned in distaste as she added, “He was blubbering all over them.”
Irma indicated a stack, and Minerva looked closer to find that they were all books about dragons. Dragon Breeder’s Guide, 100 Dragon Breeds, How to Raise Your First Dragon, and What do Dragons Eat (And How to Make Sure They Don’t Eat You).
“Oh, my.”
“Indeed. It makes me wonder whether certain children’s tales were quite as much codswallop as we at first assumed…” said the librarian.
Minerva fingered the books. Her finger came away with a dark, ashy stain.
“Oh dear,” she said.
“Do you think we ought to tell someone?” Irma asked in a whisper.
Minerva thought of Weasley’s earnest expression. Of Hagrid’s weepiness.
“I think,” she said slowly, “we ought to keep this to ourselves. I will visit Hagrid later to be sure, but I believe the situation has already been taken care of.”
After all, Weasley may have lied about the dog, but that was out of loyalty. She didn’t think he’d lied about the danger. And if the danger was past, there was no need to kick up a fuss about it. Hagrid was important to the Headmaster, and Albus would be sad. And perhaps, she thought, a trifle whimsically, loyalty like Weasley’s ought to be rewarded.