Soon, Professor Sprout arrived, having heard the news. Her face was twisted with fury—it was the first time anyone had ever seen the usually gentle professor so enraged.
"This is too much... You Gryffindors have gone too far!"
Robert and the Weasley twins instinctively shrank their necks, trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible. However, her second sentence was clearly directed at Professor McGonagall, who wore a guilty expression.
In truth, Professor Sprout's anger wasn't baseless. It came from past experience. More than a decade ago, a similar incident had occurred—and the culprit had also been a Gryffindor. Back then, the Whomping Willow had only just been planted, and it hadn't developed its current level of aggressiveness. So when she saw the branch in Robert's hand, a surge of dread welled up within her.
There had to be punishment.
Professor McGonagall's face hardened.
Seeing her expression, and realizing the main trunk of the Whomping Willow hadn't been damaged, Professor Sprout said nothing more. After casting one last disappointed glance at Robert and the Weasley brothers, she turned and left in a hurry.
"You…" Professor McGonagall began, her voice heavy with frustration, but she was abruptly cut off by a harsh shout.
"Hurry up, don't dawdle! You won't get away this time."
The voice came from the direction of the stairs—it was Filch, accompanied by three students who looked thoroughly miserable.
Harry, Ron, Hermione…
"Professor McGonagall, I caught three students out after hours," Filch said eagerly, clearly pleased with himself and entirely oblivious to the expression of disbelief forming on Professor McGonagall's face.
This night had gone completely off the rails.
Eight students, all caught out past curfew. And seven of them were from Gryffindor.
Professor McGonagall felt the world spin and had to steady herself before she could speak.
"Thank you, Filch."
After sending him away, she turned back to the group, took a deep breath, and said, "You lot, follow me."
She didn't dare linger any longer, afraid that more rule-breaking Gryffindors might suddenly appear.
She led them to her study on the second floor—a small, private room where she often read books and reviewed lesson plans. It was essentially her second office.
After closing the door, she looked at the three newcomers coldly.
"Now, explain yourselves…"
"Professor, they have a dragon!"
Before any of the three could speak, Malfoy—the only Slytherin among them—blurted it out. "They were hiding a dragon and were planning to send it away tonight… to someone named Charlie Weasley."
"Absolute nonsense!" Professor McGonagall snapped. "A dragon? How dare you make up such a lie."
"I didn't—"
"You may go now," she interrupted firmly. "I will inform Professor Snape about this. Let's see how he chooses to deal with you."
Malfoy looked indignant, but he didn't dare argue. He left the room resentfully, not even daring to slam the door.
Now it was their turn.
Professor McGonagall looked at Harry, Hermione, and Ron. "Making up a story about a dragon, tricking Draco Malfoy into getting out of bed, and now even Longbottom got pulled into it and believed your lie?"
The trio turned their eyes toward Neville.
"I-I was looking for you…" Neville stammered. "I heard Malfoy talking—he said he was going to catch you…"
"Enough!" Professor McGonagall cut him off. Neville immediately clammed up.
"I am very disappointed. Seven students out of bed in one night. I have never seen anything like this before. You… never mind."
Her eyes flicked from Hermione to Harry, then to Robert. She looked like she wanted to say more, but finally, with a heavy sigh, she waved her hand dismissively.
"Detention. Each of you will have detention. And fifty points will be deducted from each of you…" She stopped abruptly.
She was doing the math in her head. Deducting points as she had originally intended would destroy any chance Gryffindor had at winning the House Cup.
"Two hundred points," she said finally. "Gryffindor will lose two hundred points because of your actions!"
"Two hundred?" Harry gasped, stunned.
It would take Gryffindor from first place to last in one blow—they would be seen as the disgrace of the school.
The others felt equally devastated. Even Fred and George, who were used to losing points, looked defeated.
No one had ever heard of losing that many points in one go.
As for Robert, he had been standing frozen in place even before the point deduction. He was still in shock.
"Professor… please…"
"You can't…"
"You don't need to tell me what I can and cannot do," Professor McGonagall said, cutting them off. "Now, go back to your dormitories. I have never been so ashamed of Gryffindor students."
They filed out in silence, dazed by what had just happened. Only Robert remained, still rooted in place like a statue.
Professor McGonagall noticed he wasn't pretending—he was truly overwhelmed.
She hesitated for a moment, her expression softening slightly. It seemed likely Robert had been dragged into this by the Weasley twins and hadn't foreseen the severity of the consequences.
But rules were rules. Running around the school in the middle of the night was a serious offense, and he had to accept the punishment.
In the end, Robert wasn't even sure how he ended up back in the dormitory. The Weasley twins and Harry had more or less dragged him back.
But one thought consumed him—Harry and the others had really been sending away a dragon that night.
After Neville's outburst, it all came rushing back to him.
The dragon!
Professor Quirrell had deliberately lost a dragon egg to Hagrid in a card game, and used that as an excuse to trick Hagrid into revealing how to bypass Fluffy—the three-headed dog guarding the trapdoor.
And that dragon egg… it had been placed in Hagrid's fireplace and hatched into a rare Norwegian Ridgeback.
It should've been around Easter, but at the time, Robert had been completely preoccupied with crafting his Whomping Willow wand. He had completely forgotten about the dragon.
Now it all came back.
"Oh!" Robert groaned aloud.
He remembered everything—but it was too late. The Norwegian Ridgeback had already been sent away.
Every time he thought about it, his heart felt like it was being crushed.
A real, living Norwegian Ridgeback.
Robert knew Hagrid would never part with the creature, not even for wandmaking, but still…
What if the dragon had left behind some extra scales, nerve fibers, or even heartstring fragments?
At the very least, dragon fire was among the best materials for tempering wood like the Whomping Willow.
And speaking of that wand… all the branches he had collected that night had been confiscated by Professor McGonagall. Not a single one remained.
The pain deepened.
He tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep.
He could even hear sounds from Harry's dormitory—Neville's soft sobs, Ron's groaning complaints.
"It's all because of that damn tree. Professor Sprout has been guarding it all night. Otherwise, we could've sent the dragon to Charlie ten days ago!"
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