[Castling] Chapter 21

Operation "Dragon" was set for the end of the week.

Charlie had sent me a letter asking for details, then another one just before the operation.

"You’re right, Ron. Hagrid definitely needs help, and I’ve sorted everything out," he wrote. "I can’t leave the Reserve myself to collect the ‘package,’ but I’ve sent a couple of reliable people to help. The key is to keep this under wraps, Ron. You understand how much trouble we’d all be in if this gets out. I’m counting on your discretion.

"My people will arrive Saturday at midnight—they’ll reach me by morning. You’ll need to hand over the cargo from the Astronomy Tower. They can’t dismount their brooms; any landing will trigger the castle’s intruder wards. The ground perimeter’s got extra security charms to keep outsiders away. These aren’t locals, Ron, and I’d hate to see them in trouble. If anything goes wrong, let me know straightaway. Love, Charlie."

“That’s brilliant!” Hermione said with relief when I read the letter aloud as we headed to Hagrid’s to cheer him up. “I’m so glad it’s all sorted. Ron, you’ve done brilliantly—such a clever plan! Harry, why are you looking so thoughtful?”

“Well, I’m just wondering how the three of us are going to lug that egg to the tower in the middle of the night,” Harry said earnestly. “It’s the size of a boulder—and probably just as heavy.”

Hermione and I froze, staring at him in disbelief. For a moment, even she seemed lost for words.

“Oi, what’s with you two?” Harry asked, glancing back and noticing we’d fallen behind.

“Harry,” I said, recovering, “who said we’re the ones carrying the egg?”

“Well, Hagrid’s too big and obvious, isn’t he? Someone’s bound to stop him and ask what he’s doing wandering the castle at night.”

“Harry, Hagrid probably feeds Fluffy at night,” Hermione pointed out quickly, clearly not thrilled with the idea of sneaking through the castle in blatant disregard of every school rule.

“Maybe,” Harry conceded reluctantly, “but Mrs. Norris could spot him and bring Filch running. Then he’d never make it to the Astronomy Tower on time. And how’s he supposed to explain what he’s doing there?”

“Getting some fresh air, Harry,” I snapped, my patience fraying. “That’s not against the rules—especially not for staff. And Hagrid’s a grown man; I’m sure he can think of something to say.”

“Ron, what’s got into you?” Harry asked, taken aback.

“Nothing,” I said coldly. “You clearly don’t get how serious this is. This isn’t some game, Harry. My brother and his friends are risking their careers and their freedom. Smuggling’s a serious crime, and if it’s done as part of a group, the sentence is even worse. If they’re caught, it’ll tarnish my whole family’s name—and we’ll get expelled on top of it.”

“I was just trying to help,” Harry muttered defensively.

“You’ll help by keeping your mouth shut. You’ve already been down to Hagrid’s every day, whispering in corners like it’s a secret club. Even Malfoy’s suspicious by now.”

“Alright, we get it. Don’t be cross, Ron,” Hermione said gently, trying to placate me. Harry, meanwhile, was sulking.

Hagrid didn’t exactly improve my mood. Honestly, it shocked and annoyed me that both he and Harry reacted the same way—like they couldn’t figure out what to do on their own. Either Harry’s gotten dense overnight, or Hagrid’s not far off from being a big kid himself. The bloke’s nearly seventy and still expects others to sort out his problems. Top-notch logic there.

“Er… how am I supposed to get it up to the tower?” Hagrid said, scratching his head when I explained the plan. “That blasted cat’ll sniff me out in no time. And what’ll I tell that stinking Filch?”

“Hagrid, how old are you? Sixty?” I said, irritation creeping in. “We’re twelve. You’ll think of something. Worst case, shove Mrs. Norris off the tower—and Filch after her. Either way, we’ve handled the big problem. The rest’s on you. Let’s go, guys; we’ve got homework.”

“I believe in you, Hagrid,” Hermione said brightly, giving him an encouraging smile before following me.

“Bye, Hagrid,” Harry muttered, throwing me a disgruntled look as he trailed after us.

On the big night, I was nervous—especially after seeing Malfoy’s smug, knowing expression earlier. Honestly, I didn’t care about Hagrid or his dragon issues. I got involved because, well, it was in the book. And besides, I’d rather handle things my way than let them spiral. But I’d underestimated the sheer recklessness of my friends.

We sat in the common room, waiting for the signal: a light in Hagrid’s hut to show he’d returned safely. I must’ve dozed off over my book for about twenty minutes. When the clock struck midnight, I woke to find the others gone. Yawning, I headed up to the dormitory—only to realize Potter wasn’t there.

It all clicked instantly. Muttering curses, I bolted after them.

In the corridor, I shut my eyes and visualized the “Path” to the Astronomy Tower. The pull led me the opposite way from the stairs. Silently, I cast a charm for soundless footsteps and slipped into the secret passage.

Two corridors and one dusty room later, I emerged from a niche at the base of the tower’s staircase—just in time to see Professor McGonagall. She was in a tartan nightgown, a shawl over her shoulders, and dragging a protesting Malfoy behind her.

“You’ll face disciplinary action, young man!” she declared sternly as they passed by. “And twenty points from Slytherin! How dare you break school rules?”

“I’m telling you, Professor, Potter will be here soon,” Malfoy whined. Poor git didn’t stand a chance; reasoning with McGonagall was a lost cause. “Let’s just wait a little, and you’ll see I’m right.”

“What utter nonsense!” she retorted sharply. “How dare you make such accusations? I’ll be having words with your Head of House about this appalling behavior. And for your cheek, that’s another five points off, Mr. Malfoy!”

I waited until McGonagall and Malfoy disappeared from view, then listened carefully. The "Path" tugged me to the right and down the stairs—seemed like they hadn’t gone all the way up to the tower. No noise, no fuss. Everything must’ve gone to plan.

With a relieved sigh, I slipped back into the shadows. Funny thing about Hogwarts at night—its dimness or outright darkness usually feels proper creepy, but when you're following the "Path," it’s not like that at all. It’s as if you’re walking a glowing trail in the pitch black, perfectly safe, as long as you stay on it.

Silently descending the stairs, I froze and listened. The cloak could hide me, but it wouldn’t muffle any noise. I’d learned the silent step spell during the holidays from Charlie, and I was kicking myself for not teaching it to Harry and Hermione. Their clomping about wasn’t exactly subtle.

“Ron?” came a startled whisper out of the gloom, followed by a more anxious, squeaky, “What are you doing here?”

“Just fancied a stroll before bed,” I shot back, my sarcasm sharper than a Slytherin’s tongue. Harry pulled off the cloak, revealing two guilty but annoyingly smug faces. “What the bloody hell, Harry?”

“Well… we weren’t going up to the tower,” Harry started quickly. “We were just, er, planning to distract Filch in case he headed that way.” He gestured to the spot they’d clearly been loitering in. “Thought we’d sit here and, um, chuck a dung bomb under the stairs if he came by. But, erm, he didn’t show, so we…”

“Shut it!” I hissed, raising a hand for silence.

“Ah, my sweet,” came Filch’s rasping voice from the shadows. “There’s two of ’em hiding round here, eh? Let’s sniff ’em out, shall we? And when we’re done, I’ll get you some milk, won’t I?”

Harry looked about in panic, and Hermione seemed about ready to faint. No time to muck about.

I shoved the bag of dung bombs into her hands, nicked the cloak from Harry, and flung it over Hermione.

“Back to the common room. Now,” I whispered urgently in her ear. Then, grabbing Harry by the arm, I bolted straight toward Filch.

Poor McGonagall hadn’t even managed to change for bed. She sat behind her desk in her tartan nightgown, a shawl draped over her shoulders, radiating fury as she glared at us like Nemesis herself.

“I’ve already told you, Professor,” I repeated for what felt like the fifth time, “we were looking for my rat. He hasn’t come back for two days, and I was worried.”

“You could have searched during daylight, Mr. Weasley,” she said, lips pursed tight with disapproval. But I wasn’t Hermione, so her looks of reproach didn’t faze me. Harry sat silently beside me, sneaking wary glances my way.

‘Just shut up and nod,’ I’d muttered to him earlier, before Filch had dragged us to McGonagall.

“I understand your concern, Mr. Weasley,” she finally conceded, though her tone suggested otherwise. “But the rules are the same for everyone. I’m docking fifty points each from Gryffindor. You’ll both have detention later, but as it’s late, that’ll be sorted tomorrow. Now off to bed—ten minutes. And I am very disappointed in you both.”

‘I’ll live,’ I thought but held my tongue, settling for a remorseful nod before we shuffled out.

“Ron…” Harry began hesitantly, touching my shoulder once we reached the staircase.

“Not now,” I muttered, shrugging him off and stalking ahead. Neither of us spoke a word all the way back to the tower.

In the dim Gryffindor common room, Hermione was waiting for us, looking frazzled. She rushed over as soon as we stepped through the portrait hole.

“Oh, Ron, I’m so sorry!” she sobbed into my shoulder ten minutes later while Harry and I exchanged weary looks over her head. “This is all my fault! The house lost a hundred points, and you’ll both get detention, and it’s because of me!”

“There, there,” I muttered, patting her awkwardly and gently peeling her off me. Harry, ever the hero, handed her a handkerchief—though why she never seemed to have one of her own was beyond me. “Could’ve been worse. We could’ve lost another fifty, plus forty for the dung bombs, and had a month of Filch’s detentions. Now, off to bed—you remember Snape’s test tomorrow, don’t you?”

“Thank you, Ron,” she said with a timid smile before heading upstairs, still sniffling.

“Ron, I’m sorry,” Harry said, voice low. He looked genuinely upset for once. “I shouldn’t have started all this.”

I sighed. “Harry, just figure out what we are to each other. If we’re friends, then you can’t treat me like this. But if we’re just mates, like Dean or Seamus, then stop dragging me into your schemes. I’d risk a lot for a friend—family, even—but I won’t stick my neck out for a casual mate.”

Harry was unusually serious when he responded, offering his hand. “Friends, Ron. I swear it won’t happen again. Trust me.”

‘It will, you daft sod’ I thought, shaking his hand and feeling oddly relieved. These two had worn me down so much tonight that I was just grateful the whole dragon egg fiasco was behind us. ‘Good thing the dragon didn’t hatch. Merlin knows how bad that would’ve been.’

Under the hot shower, I reflected on what I’d told McGonagall—how it hadn’t been a complete lie. The castle did have other creatures besides regular rats. The caretaker before Filch had kept a panther, and loads of magical pets roamed about at night. Magical animals absorbed traces of their owner’s magic, making them untouchable to other predators. It only took a bit of daily contact—stroking, holding, or feeding them.

I’d kept Scabbers caged until this summer, but Percy had started letting him out. Now the rat came back during the day for food and a nap, then wandered off at night.

As for the lost points, people grumbled for a bit, but it wasn’t so bad. Hermione went into overdrive, earning points like a dog fetching sticks. Even Harry buried himself in his books, chipping in. We’d clawed back what we’d lost in no time, though we could’ve been miles ahead if it weren’t for the incident.

Oh well. All that mattered was the egg business was done with. Or so I thought—until Harry overheard Quirrell sobbing behind a door and agreeing to something.

"Looks like he finally cracked, and now Snape knows the truth," Harry concluded, his voice grim. But even this news didn’t faze Hermione—exams were only a week away, and at this point, nothing else seemed to exist for her.

Later that evening, we received a note from McGonagall. It informed us that at 11 PM sharp, we were to meet Filch at the main entrance for detention.

"Serves you right for breaking the rules," Filch muttered nastily as he led us—and, to my surprise, Malfoy—toward the castle doors. "Shame I can’t still whip you little miscreants."

"That you, Filch? Hurry it up, we’ve got work to do," came Hagrid’s booming voice from outside. He looked formidable, armed with a crossbow, a quiver slung across his back, and Fang pressed close to his side.

"I’ll be back by dawn to pick up what’s left of them," Filch sneered, shooting us a malicious grin before sauntering off, whistling a jaunty tune.

"Are we going into the Forbidden Forest?" Malfoy stammered, recoiling a step or two. "I refuse!"

"You’ll go, and you’ll like it," Hagrid said sharply, gripping the crossbow as we began our march toward the edge of the forest. "Something’s been killing unicorns. We need to find out what."

We were nearing his hut when Hagrid continued in that offhand way of his, "You alright there, Ron?"

"Sorry, Hagrid, but I think you can handle this one on your own," I said, trying to sound firm.

"Eh? What’re you on about?" Hagrid stopped and turned to gawk at me, clearly baffled.

"I’m saying mates help each other out, don’t they?" I replied, crossing my arms. "And it’s not exactly mate-like to make us serve detention for bailing you out of trouble. So, we’ll wait for you in your hut while you sort out the unicorn business. Seems fair, doesn’t it?"

"But, Ron—" Hagrid began, looking genuinely flummoxed.

"We can come with you, Hagrid, but if we do, I reckon this ‘friendship’ thing is done for," I cut him off bluntly.

The silence dragged on, broken only by Fang’s soft whimper. Finally, Hagrid sighed, looking utterly defeated. "Alright, fine," he muttered. Then he turned to Malfoy with a dark scowl. "You, though—you’re comin’ with me."

Malfoy shot me a desperate look that nearly made me groan aloud.

"Hagrid," I started reluctantly, "he can’t go either. He knows about the egg and swore he’d tell the Board of Governors everything. But right now, he’s going to swear on the honour of the Malfoy name that he won’t breathe a word. Aren’t you, Malfoy?"

"Absolutely," Malfoy blurted, his tone eager. "I swear. On my family’s honour. Just leave me here with them."

"Fine," Hagrid said, now looking downright dejected. "Just light the fire in the hearth and have some tea, then." With that, he trudged into the forest, his massive shoulders slumped.

"Ron, I’m sorry, but I think I’ll go with Hagrid," Harry said suddenly, his voice tinged with determination. "It won’t be so bad if I’m with him."

"Stick close to him, Harry. Don’t stray, not even a step," I called after him.

"Got it!" Harry shouted, already jogging to catch up with the giant.

Malfoy, meanwhile, was rooted to the spot.

"What are you standing there for? Get inside," I said, jerking my head toward the door as I opened it.