Just as Tom began to believe the lesson would end peacefully, disaster struck at the very last moment.
Zabini landed, flushed with exhilaration. In his excitement, as he dismounted, he grabbed too hard and tore out a feather from the Hippogriff's flank.
The creature shrieked in pain.
Its forelegs reared high.
Zabini was flung violently from its back.
Gasps erupted from every direction.
Students watched in horror as he hurtled toward the ground.
Then an invisible force caught him midair.
His fall slowed, redirected, and he drifted safely to Tom's side.
"Thanks, Tom," Zabini said shakily once his feet touched earth. "I thought I was about to break every bone in my body."
"It's fine."
Tom waved it off.
Hagrid, having just calmed the Hippogriff, ran over in a panic.
"Zabini! Are you hurt? What happened? Why did it go wild?"
Zabini said nothing. He opened his palm impatiently.
A white feather lay across it.
Hagrid's face changed instantly.
"Oh… oh. Well, good thing you're alright. Good thing."
He patted his chest in relief, then turned gratefully to Tom.
"Twenty points to Slytherin!"
...
After class, Tom sent Hermione and Daphne back to the castle and stayed behind.
Once Hagrid had led the Hippogriffs away and returned, he noticed Tom still standing there.
"Tom? Something wrong?"
"I'm fine," Tom said coolly. "You're the one about to have a problem."
Hagrid blinked. "Didn't you already save Zabini? It turned out alright, didn't it?"
"This time, yes. Because I was here," Tom replied sharply. "What about next time? Are you teaching the class, or am I?"
He stepped closer, voice calm but merciless.
"If Zabini had broken something today, do you know what would've happened? He would have gone straight back and told his mother. The Black Widow."
Hagrid swallowed.
"With pure blood influence involved, the Ministry would step in. At best, you lose your position. At worst…" Tom paused. "Azkaban."
Hagrid's lips trembled. "It… it wouldn't go that far, would it? It was an accident. He pulled the feather. It was just a misunderstanding…"
Tom's expression remained flat.
"When humans and beasts clash, humans are always judged to be in the right."
He glanced toward the Forbidden Forest, where the silhouettes of Hippogriffs still moved between trees.
"You're planning to use them again next lesson, aren't you?"
Hagrid's silence was answer enough.
"Hagrid," Tom said evenly, "neither the Hippogriff nor Zabini was truly at fault. The one at fault is you."
"Because you cannot guarantee student safety while teaching."
Hagrid felt sweat soak through his clothes.
"I stepped in because Zabini works for me. And because you've helped me collect materials and tend to the Acromantulas. But if this happens again, or if it happens in another year group's class when I'm not there…"
Tom's eyes hardened.
"You'll be the one explaining to Azkaban why you failed."
He turned and walked away without another word.
Hagrid stood frozen, staring after him.
Fear and belated realization churned in his chest.
He was not entirely foolish.
Just… slow.
Last week's success had blinded him.
Now, with Tom's blunt warning echoing in his mind, the illusion shattered.
He knew Slytherin temperaments well enough. If Zabini had been injured, they would not have let the matter drop.
Hagrid shuddered.
The swelling pride drained from him instantly.
He hurried back into the forest and, for the next lesson, selected creatures that would not maim anyone if startled.
...
The following day, fourth years returned from Care of Magical Creatures in delight.
Hagrid had brought Fire Foxes.
Soft, fluffy, warm little creatures that instantly melted the hearts of every girl present.
They were cradled, brushed, doted upon.
Notes were taken voluntarily.
Even the boys found no reason to complain, using the opportunity to chat with girls they fancied.
A rare universal success.
"Does Hagrid have something against third years?" Astoria pouted. "Why didn't we get Fire Foxes?"
Tom chuckled. "Maybe next time."
At least Hagrid listened.
Tom now understood, a little more, Dumbledore's exhaustion.
If not for the fact that Hagrid was the only other person besides him who could walk freely in and out of the Acromantula nest, Tom would have stopped interfering entirely.
But this was the last time.
If Hagrid relapsed into dangerous enthusiasm again, Tom would simply relocate the entire spider colony to Newt Scamander and be done with it.
...
They entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.
Books, quills, parchment came out automatically.
Remus Lupin arrived shortly after, wearing his faint, steady smile, carrying a battered old suitcase which he placed gently on the desk.
The room quieted.
Students scrutinized him carefully.
After being spoiled by last year's Professor Wilkinson, expectations for this position had risen dramatically.
The new professor absolutely could not be another Quirrell.
Or another Lockhart.
Though to be fair, Lockhart had at least proven himself a formidable criminal by escaping Azkaban.
Regardless.
The professor needed real ability. And the ability to teach.
"Good afternoon," Lupin said warmly. "Please put your textbooks back in your bags. Today is a practical lesson. You will only need your wands."
The classroom stirred with excitement.
That opening line sounded suspiciously familiar.
Just like Wilkinson.
Could this be another battle oriented professor?