"No way. That was supposed to be a noble wizard duel," Ron said, stunned. "If Malfoy didn't show up, he'd be a laughingstock! You don't challenge someone and then trick them unless you want everyone to despise you!"
"But he didn't even follow proper rules when he challenged us," Harry said. "Duels are supposed to be public. This is at best a playground fight. And Hogwarts forbids students from using magic or fighting."
"...You're right," Ron admitted after a moment. "So we're not going?"
"Nope." Harry shook his head. "We're going to sleep."
"Should we tell a teacher?" Ron asked. "We could catch them out after curfew."
"Nah. I bet Malfoy already told someone," Harry said. "If we say anything now, it might backfire. Let's just sleep."
...
That night.
A figure quietly pushed aside the Fat Lady's portrait and climbed out of the hole into the Gryffindor common room.
She looked around. The Fat Lady was gone, off on a nighttime visit.
"No wonder no one saw me leave... I don't even know where she is," the figure whispered.
She wore a pink dressing gown. Her face was hard to see in the dark, but her bushy hair was unmistakable.
"At least I won't be able to get back in for a while."
"How did they get past?" Hermione muttered to herself. "I didn't see the door open..."
She had overheard Harry and Malfoy arguing earlier that day. But by midnight, she hadn't seen Harry or Ron leave.
Were they... not going?
Hermione frowned, then dismissed the thought.
Knowing Harry and Ron, they were just two ignorant brutes.
Especially Harry.
She still didn't know what he ate to get that strong. Terrible at spells, absurdly strong physically. No wonder he could fight three Slytherins alone.
"But this is stupid," Hermione thought. "I'm only doing this so Gryffindor doesn't lose points..."
Repeating that to herself, she hurried quietly to the Trophy Room.
Crystal cases shimmered in the moonlight. Cups, shields, medals, statues-gold and silver gleaming in the dark.
No one was there.
Malfoy wasn't.
That was expected.
But Harry and Ron weren't either.
Had they really not come?
Did that mean she was the one breaking the rules?
Hermione's eyes widened. She spun around and ran.
Then she heard a voice.
Not Harry.
Not Malfoy.
"They're around here somewhere, my sweet. Hiding in a corner."
Filch.
Talking to Mrs. Norris.
So Malfoy had leaked the duel on purpose, planning to get Harry caught and dock Gryffindor points.
But Harry hadn't fallen for it.
She had.
Hermione ran.
She turned a corner into a corridor filled with suits of armor. Past pillars. Through hallway after hallway.
She had no idea where she was.
When she finally stopped near the Charms classroom, her lungs were burning.
Merlin's beard. She must have run halfway across the castle.
Hermione bent over, gasping, clutching her collar.
She hadn't made any noise. Filch must still be back at the Trophy Room, searching for the "intruder."
Now she just had to find a way back to the eighth floor without being seen.
She planned a route quickly.
She took a breath.
Then took a few steps.
And disaster struck.
Peeves.
Hermione had never been more afraid of him.
And Peeves had never been happier to see her.
He opened his mouth.
Hermione grabbed her wand.
What spell could stop a ghost from shouting immediately?
"I have to risk it."
She pointed her wand and cast two spells she had only ever seen in books. Never practiced. Advanced spells meant for fifth or sixth years. Heavy on magic.
"Obliviate! Silencio!"
Two flashes of light struck Peeves.
Hermione didn't wait to see the result.
Footsteps were coming.
She ran.
The footsteps paused.
Then followed.
Hermione sprinted down a corridor and suddenly stopped.
She remembered Dumbledore's warning at the start of term.
The third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to suffer a very painful death.
Her heart skipped.
If she remembered correctly, this was it.
The forbidden corridor.
Go in and risk death?
Or get caught by Filch, lose points, and become the enemy of the entire house?
Either outcome was a nightmare.
Hermione hesitated.
The footsteps were close.
Time made the decision for her.
"...Damn it."
She ran forward.
Nothing happened.
She reached the end of the corridor and tried the door.
Locked.
"Alohomora!"
She didn't think. She acted.
The lock clicked.
The door opened.
Hermione slipped inside and closed it carefully behind her.
The noise outside vanished, as if the room itself were soundproofed.
She relaxed.
For exactly one second.
Hot breath.
A strange smell.
A low, unnatural sound.
She turned.
And understood.
A dog.
A massive, monstrous dog, filling the space from floor to ceiling.
Three heads.
Three pairs of eyes.
Three noses twitching toward her.
Three drooling mouths, yellow teeth bared, saliva hanging in ropes.
The heat she'd felt was its breath.
"Woof!"
The dog lunged.
Hermione screamed but reacted.
Despite the strain from earlier spells, she forced out one more.
"Stupefy!"
The flash struck one of its heads.
It staggered.
But kept coming.
Large magical creatures had terrifying resistance.
Especially against a first-year's Stunning Spell.
"I'm going to die," Hermione thought.
She reached for the door.
She wouldn't make it.
"A wonderful performance, Miss," a calm voice said from outside. "But there was a small mistake."
"Run!" Hermione screamed, turning-
And collided with a solid arm.
"There's a three-headed dog! Run!" she shouted, then looked up.
Handsome.
Star-patterned robes.
Professor Morin.
The Defense professor.
Why was he here?
"No need to worry," Morin said calmly. "Perhaps look behind you."
Hermione swallowed and turned.
Silence.
The dog was frozen in place.
Completely motionless.
Alive-but unable to move or make a sound.
Hermione yelped and hid behind Morin.
"Why did it stop?"
That was a stupid question.
She knew it the moment she asked.
"I froze it," Morin said. "Headmaster Dumbledore's warning wasn't exaggerated. If someone truly entered this room unprepared, it would end in a massacre."
He patted her head.
His eyes lit up slightly.
Her hair was... surprisingly fluffy.
"Is it guarding something?" Hermione asked quickly, wondering for a split second if she should move away from his hand before deciding not to.
"You noticed the trapdoor beneath it," Morin said. "Clever. Brave. Gryffindor..."
He paused, pretending to think.
"A first-year. Hermione Granger?"
"Yes, Professor," Hermione whispered.
She remembered.
She was still breaking the rules.
"I think you understand what this means," Morin said, leading her away and closing the door behind them. "This door shouldn't have been opened by a simple Alohomora. Something strange is happening. I'll report it to the Headmaster."
He looked down at her.
"Don't worry. I won't mention you."
Hermione's eyes widened.
Hope surged.
"As a first-year, being here after curfew is a serious violation," Morin continued. "But before that, I am a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."
Hermione looked up at him.
That meant-
"Using Alohomora in an emergency," Morin said calmly, "and Stupefy under threat, after casting Obliviate and Silencio... even with a small mistake, you succeeded. That's remarkable. Don't worry about Peeves. I've handled him. I doubt he'll bother you again."
He smiled.
"You are the most talented student I've ever seen, Miss Hermione Granger."
"Thank you, Professor..." Hermione said softly, blushing.
"This is exactly what I want," Morin said. "Not perfect test answers. Not textbook spellcasting. Real decisions. Real reactions."
He paused.
"Defense Against the Dark Arts... I prefer to think of it as Wizarding Self-Defense."
He looked at her seriously.
"And tonight, you gave a nearly perfect demonstration for your age."
"For that," Morin said, "I would award Gryffindor one hundred points."
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