Sure enough, this time the little unicorn ate with far more enthusiasm. Its big, sparkling eyes looked at Tom with an unmistakable affection, and the distance between them had now closed to just a few paces.

It wouldn't be long before that final bit of space disappeared completely. Even the two adult unicorns had started appearing, but Tom made sure not to linger—just a few moments of mutual gazing with the young one before quietly taking his leave.

In his mind, wanting the unicorn to follow him and bond wasn't malicious. It was simply natural. He had nothing to feel guilty about.

As the harshness of winter finally melted away, spring arrived in full bloom. Warmer weather at Hogwarts meant one thing: Quidditch season was back.

Snape was practically glowing with satisfaction these days. Tom's method for magical ingredient extraction had proven highly effective—minor tweaks to potion ratios led to significantly improved results.

But there was something else that had the Potions Master walking with a spring in his step: he had been named referee for the upcoming Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.

The moment this was announced, the Gryffindor team looked like they were mourning a funeral. Pale faces, slumped shoulders—it was as if someone had died.

The Hufflepuffs, kind and well-mannered as ever, tried to stifle their laughter, but the twitching corners of their mouths betrayed them. Every time they passed the Gryffindors in the corridors, they had to turn their heads away to avoid bursting into giggles.

On match day, Albus Dumbledore's arrival brought visible relief to the Gryffindors. Professor Quirrell, upon seeing Dumbledore, turned around immediately and slipped away, pausing only to cast Harry a venomous glare from a shadowed hallway.

Snape didn't look too pleased about the Headmaster's unexpected appearance either, but it didn't change his intentions. His role as referee was to protect Harry Potter—but no one said he couldn't take a little revenge while he was at it.

Harry, after all, looked exactly like James Potter. And when he soared through the air on his broom, the resemblance became uncanny. To Snape, it was like being haunted by the ghost of a boy who used to smirk at him from a broomstick high above the pitch.

But fate had its own plans.

Just two fouls into the game—barely enough time for Snape to show favoritism—Harry dove straight past the Hufflepuff Seeker and snatched the Golden Snitch right from under their nose.

Game over.

Tom, meanwhile, had been furiously clicking away with his magical camera. The expression on Snape's face was priceless—white as a sheet, lips pressed tight, with a faint trace of blood at the corners of his mouth.

Tom chuckled. He was absolutely going to frame that photo and send it to Snape as a Christmas present.

After the match, Tom slipped away to the Forbidden Forest like it was his backyard. He had more important things to do—visiting his precious unicorns. But despite all his efforts, neither the ancient minds in the Learning Space nor Newt's letter offered any concrete method for helping unicorns evolve.

He'd even considered giving the little unicorn his strength-enhancing elixir—a potion he'd come to see as a sort of magical multivitamin. But the moment the unicorn smelled the dragon's blood inside it, it bolted in terror. Its big eyes shimmered with pure fear.

Tom had no choice but to tuck the potion away and spend several minutes calming the poor thing down before it dared come close again.

Time passed quickly, and soon it was time for the final break of the school year—Easter holidays.

Compared to Christmas, Easter break was short—just seven days. Most students stayed behind, but Daphne decided to go home. She missed her little sister and wanted to see for herself that she was truly recovering.

She nearly burst into tears when she left. It wasn't until Tom solemnly promised to call her every night using the double-sided mirror that she finally, reluctantly, climbed into the carriage.

Tom let out a long sigh of relief and headed back, intending to ask Parra for some afternoon tea. But then he caught sight of Harry and Ron sneaking into Hagrid's hut, looking exactly like two guilty burglars.

He rolled his eyes. Subtle, they were not.

Even less subtle was the figure trailing after them—someone else who crept behind like a nosy shadow.

Of course. If it involved Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy was never far behind.

Tom thought for a moment... then followed too.

…

Inside Hagrid's hut, it was literally heating up.

The fireplace blazed at full power, despite the warm spring air. In the very center of the flames sat a large, sooty-black egg.

"A dragon egg," Ron whispered, crouching next to the hearth. "This must've cost a fortune."

"Didn't cost me a Knut!" Hagrid beamed. "Won it. Was out drinkin' in the village last night—bloke from Greece, bit shady-lookin'. Played a few rounds o' cards, and he put this baby on the table. Guess he wanted rid of it, to be honest. Can't blame him. Dragon eggs are a nightmare."

Harry stared at him, incredulous. "If you know it's a nightmare, why did you take it? You do know private dragon-keeping is illegal, right?"

Hagrid looked at the egg with all the love of a man cradling a newborn. "But it's a living, breathin' creature! How could I just turn me back on it?"

Ron took a nervous glance around the cramped wooden hut. "You do know this place isn't nearly big enough? Give it a month, and this dragon'll blow your roof off."

But Hagrid wasn't listening. He waved his hand dismissively. "I'll manage. Don't worry."

Just then, Harry glanced toward the window—and froze.

A single eye stared back through the narrow slit.

He leapt up. "Malfoy!"

"What?" Ron jumped. "Don't bring him up right now, I'm trying to enjoy the—"

"He saw the egg. Malfoy saw the dragon egg!"

Harry dashed to the door, but it was too late. Draco, upon realizing he'd been spotted, bolted. It was a Malfoy family instinct—never stay in danger longer than absolutely necessary.

And a punch from a half-giant like Hagrid could very well be fatal.

Hagrid's joy instantly crumbled to dust.

There was nothing Harry and Ron could do except offer some clumsy reassurances before heading back to the castle to come up with a real plan.

Hagrid, meanwhile, was about to head out for a walk and gather food for the soon-to-hatch dragon when a mocking voice drifted in from the doorway.

"Well, well... what do we have here? A mysterious little dragon egg... and a gamekeeper who's decided to dabble in illegal dragon breeding?"

Standing in the doorway, arms crossed and lips curled into a smirk, was none other than Tom Riddle.

Hagrid turned a sickly white.

"...Tom Riddle..." he rasped, his voice hoarse.