Draco was not at all happy to wake up in the dark again. Unless a half-naked Granger was leaning over him, he saw no good reason to be conscious. But he lay there, staring at the dark green canopy, every muscle in his body tense. Something was wrong.
Granger was gone—he felt it instantly, and Tennant was in Durmstrang, brewing cursed beer or designing new Dark Marks—whatever else aspiring Dark Lords amused themselves with in their free time. But something here was wrong. And it could only be... No.
Draco prayed to all the gods. Please, NOT THIS.
Slower than grains of sand in an hourglass, Draco turned his head, and...
Two golden eyes. A faint ginger silhouette in the dark.
Yes, Granger was gone. Leaving this hellspawn.
Draco carefully ran a hand over his throat, checking if it was torn by claws. So far, everything was in place—smooth skin, untouched muscles.
With his left hand, he slowly slid across the blanket towards the dark wood wand, attached to the bedpost.
The golden eyes narrowed.
Another inch—and Draco could conjure...
The cat leaped, and even Death Eater reflexes wouldn't help hit such a target. The beast flew right over Draco, slipping through a gap in the slightly parted hangings, and Petrificus Totalus ricocheted off the fabric. He had to quickly somersault to avoid hitting himself with his own spell.
With a yell of rage, Draco sprang out of bed, and the floor lamp flared, flooding the room with light. The grandfather clock chimed: bong... bong... bong... bong...
Draco cautiously began searching the room. As soon as he found that bloody cat, he'd stun it immediately and carry it out of the dungeon in a bag. He hoped the creature was safe and sound—not stuck somewhere, suffocated, or impaled on one of Tennant's cursed artifacts. Otherwise, Granger would flay Draco alive.
"You can't hide from me forever!" he shouted, launching a series of searching spells.
No results. This monster apparently had some magical protection.
"Come out, or I'll make you bald!"
Silence.
"Do you really want to sit here without food and water until Granger gets back tonight?"
Apparently, yes.
"Listen... uh..." What was that creature's name? Ass-tail? Fat-wagon? No, that's something from the Muggle world again.
"Let's say... Flayer," Draco said. "I won't hex you. I'll just take you out of the dungeon. Deal?"
Silence.
"STINKING SHABBY CREATURE! COME OUT NOW, OR I'LL BLOW UP THIS ROOM WITH YOU IN IT!"
Okay, maybe that wasn't the best approach. He needed to outsmart the creature, make it reveal itself.
Draco could use a nonverbal Accio—if the target was close and in sight. He would leave his wand as bait, lure the cat out, then swiftly summon the wand and stun the vile creature.
He walked to the bed.
"This is my wand," he announced loudly. "My. Wand. This is what I use to do magic." With stupid animals, it was always best to be perfectly clear.
"I'm putting my wand on the bed. Now I can't hex you, right?" He carefully placed it on the crumpled bedspread. "There. Wand on the bed. Now come out."
Silence. The idiotic creature didn't even understand that. Maybe he should...
A tiny "meow" made Draco spin around abruptly, and he nearly slipped. But it was his silver inkwells that had spoken—they had grown ears and tails again and were insistently demanding attention.
A rustling sound came from behind him, and he turned just in time to see the ginger cat jump down from the canopy. The creature was sniffing his wand and...
"PUT IT BACK!" Draco roared.
The cat turned its head—the dark wood wand clutched in its mouth. Its golden eyes gleamed with blatant malice.
Draco sharply extended his hand.
"Accio wand!"—but the nonverbal spell was too weak, and the creature's grip too strong.
"If you leave a single mark on it, I'll skin you and have you stuffed," he snarled.
Flayer squinted, but didn't move. Draco slowly took a step towards the dresser—there, in different drawers, lay his snake wand and the harlequin.
In response, the cat bared its teeth, as if ready to bite the wand in half.
"Fine," Draco pulled on a black jumper and slipped his feet into embroidered slippers. "I'll take you out of the dungeon, and you'll give me back my wand. Deal?"
In response, he received a slow, ominous blink. Progress already.
Luring the hovering candle to himself, Draco threw open the door.
"Let's go."
The cat jumped off the bed and proudly headed for the exit, still clutching the wand in its teeth, tail held high. Draco exited the bedroom and closed the door behind him.
The narrow corridor beyond the door led to a staircase. They descended, lighting their way with the candle, until they stopped before a green door.
"Ophiophagus," Draco whispered the Greek name for snake-eater.
Beyond the door began the labyrinth of the Slytherin dungeons, dimly lit by torches. The dungeons were famous for their confusing layout—first-years regularly got lost, missing meals and classes (especially this year's intake). But Draco knew every turn.
He clenched his fingers, longing for the feel of his wand in his hands. At this hour, the dungeons teemed with dangerous familiars.
The cat hissed behind Draco, and he stopped abruptly. Before them, a magical Black Turtle slowly crawled across the corridor. Its needle-like teeth glinted in the torchlight, and six serpentine appendages writhed from beneath its shell.
Draco and the cat froze, holding their breath. An eternity passed before the hissing and clacking of jaws finally faded into the distance.
They turned more than a dozen times, ascended two staircases, encountering only spiders, which Flayer eyed with obvious hunting desire.
"Move it," Draco hissed, "or do you want to meet the Black Turtle again? Or maybe Davis's pygmy puff?"
Another staircase, a curved ramp—and finally the last turn.
The Slytherin common room door appeared at the end of the long corridor. Draco slowed his pace, sensing something in the air, but the cursed Gryffindor cat had already rushed ahead.
"Come back now!" Draco hissed.
Granger's pet was several feet ahead of Draco when, without warning, they were attacked. A long shadow divided Draco and the cat. The fluffy beast stopped, turning around, the wand in its mouth beginning to emit faint sparks.
One of Barnaby's pythons. As long as three adult men, with shimmering green scales and crimson eyes. An ordinary python Draco could have overcome even without a wand, but this creature was clearly imbued with magic. The snake gave him an appraising look, as if understanding how helpless the wizard was without a wand.
Draco froze, his heart pounding. Nagini had once looked at him exactly the same way.
The same mesmerizing head-swaying rhythm, the disgusting scrape of scales on stone. The Dark Lord's favorite freely slithered through Malfoy Manor at night, coiling under furniture and behind tapestries, waiting for a passing victim. Hungry.
The snake's forked tongue tasted the air, catching Draco's scent. But the cat clearly seemed like easier, more appetizing prey. The python turned and slithered towards Flayer. The cat hissed and began retreating towards the closed common room door.
"Behind you!" Draco shouted, just as a second snake—even larger than the first—appeared at the common room entrance. The cat was trapped.
"Incendio!" Draco's yell echoed off the walls. A faint flame erupted from the wand clutched in the cat's mouth, making the second python freeze.
The first snake, meanwhile, moved towards Draco again, rising higher on its coiled tail, pink maw wide open. Unlike Basilisks or special familiars like Nagini, pythons were not venomous. Nevertheless, the creature could wrap itself around Draco's leg at any moment, cutting off blood flow until he lost consciousness. Bloody hell. He hated animals.
A piercing cat's wail drew Draco's attention—at the door, the larger python had sunk its teeth into a fluffy paw.
"NO!" Draco roared. Flayer looked him in the eyes and helplessly clawed at the stone as the snake dragged him away.
Draco lunged forward, forgetting about the other snake, and the second python swiftly coiled around his legs, bringing him down onto the stone floor. Draco's breath hitched, but he didn't take his eyes off the cat. Meanwhile, the python had already wrapped its tail around the cat's midsection, continuing to drag it into the darkness.
"Flayer!" Draco breathed, half command, half plea.
The cat sharply jerked its head, and the dark wood wand flew from its mouth, arcing through the air.
"Accio Wand!" Draco cried.
This time, since the wand was free of the cat's teeth and only a couple of feet from Draco, the spell worked. He caught the wand in mid-air and immediately aimed at the python constricting the cat.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
The snake froze, paralyzed. The second python immediately loosened its grip and slithered away down the corridor, not daring to approach the wizard with a wand in hand. But Draco was faster—rolling onto his back, he hurled a stunning spell after it. The immobilized python crashed onto the stone floor.
Draco rose to his feet, breathing heavily. The cat lay on the floor in the grip of the petrified snake, its fangs still embedded in the ginger paw. Flayer looked at Draco, his golden eyes wide. The cat seemed to be breathing freely; the python hadn't had time to start constricting it. Draco frowned, unsure if he could pull out the curved fangs without breaking the paw. A broken paw. Broken bones. Draco remembered second year, the Quidditch pitch, and Lockhart's shoddy spell on Potter. He closed his eyes, recalling the exact incantation, then opened them and jabbed his wand towards the snake gripping the cat.
"Reparifors!" Draco hissed, lifting the paralyzing spell from the python. "Brackium Emendo!" he added, deliberately not making the proper wrist flick and jabbing his wand too sharply on the second word.
The snake's body went limp, like a cut ribbon. The python slid off the cat and flopped onto the stone with a disgusting squelching sound. All its bones were gone—including its jaws and teeth. The cat rolled away and stood up, shaking its hind paw.
Draco blinked in surprise—he hadn't expected the spell to actually work. With a loud meow, Flayer suddenly rushed towards him, beginning to rub against his legs like a fat ginger boa constrictor.
"Alright," Draco said to the cat, feeling a slight revulsion, "That's enough. I'm all covered in your fur now."
He shuddered, imagining what his bed looked like now.
Draco stepped over the python, which now writhed miserably, resembling a giant green worm, walked to the common room door, and pushed it open. The cat followed him, deliberately scratching the snake with its hind paw on the way.
Barnaby, of course, wouldn't be happy to find his python boneless and bloody, but he clearly wouldn't complain to Madam Pomfrey. Draco mentally added creating the same fate for the second python to his to-do list. How dare the snake attack a wizard—even without a wand?
Leading the cat through the empty common room, Draco uttered the password. The silver grate rose, clinking with enchanted chains.
"Well?" he snapped at the cat. "Go on."
The cat rubbed its face against his pyjama trousers and purred.
"Stop it!" Draco yelled. "Did you just lick my ankle?! Get out! Go back to Granger!"
The cat rubbed against him one last time and proudly left the common room with the air of being the master of the dungeons.
The grate fell with a metallic clang.
Clutching his wand, Draco headed for the bedrooms. Any familiar that crossed his path would receive a full set of curses.
And at Christmas, when he returned to the manor, he would get rid of all the animals—starting with the white peacocks.***
Three hours later, Draco left the dungeons, still exhausted and ready to curse anything that moved. His mood didn't improve at the sight of a familiar ginger ball of fur, perched in the castle's Great Hall.
"What do you want?" he snapped. "Stop rubbing against me! Go find Granger—she's probably crying into a bowl of porridge over you."
He removed the fur from his black trousers with his wand.
"You scratched my boot!" Looking around just in case, Draco cast a Polishing Charm.
Then, putting on his most disdainful expression, Draco moved towards the Great Hall. The students froze, wide-eyed. That's right, tremble before Malfoy. But the Slytherins were staring too, and a terrible suspicion dawned on Draco. He forced himself to turn around. The cursed cat was following him closely, tail held high like a pipe, as if that's exactly how things should be. Draco let out a barely audible groan. This was worse than a dancing wand.
Flayer followed Draco all the way to the Slytherin table and lay down at his feet as soon as he sat. A deathly silence fell over the table. Many of the older students recognized this cat—and their gazes immediately darted from Draco to the Gryffindor table, awaiting Granger's reaction. Oh, Salazar. This was all he needed—for Granger to fly into a rage, thinking he had stolen her familiar. Draco also involuntarily glanced her way, preparing for a displeased grimace, a hiss, or a murderous glare.
But he saw something much worse. Granger was looking at him and not just smiling—she was beaming. Even from that distance, it was clear how she glowed with happiness, and to his horror, Draco almost smiled back.
He immediately lowered his gaze to his plate, frowning, and the plate filled with food. Somewhere near his left ankle, a short "meow" sounded.
"Looks like your cat wants bacon," Theo remarked dryly.
Draco ignored him and tried to shake Flayer off his leg. To no avail, of course—the vile creature didn't budge. It seemed someone had thrown him a piece of bacon, because he fell silent.
Draco glumly ate his scrambled eggs and thought about the one truth of life that had been confirmed again and again this year:
No good deed goes unpunished.