The biting wind of the Highlands whipped against Fred and George's faces, but they barely felt the cold. Their lungs were burning, each breath tasting like shards of ice, yet they didn't dare slow down. They had run so far and so fast that the Forbidden Forest's edge was now a dark, jagged smudge on the horizon.
Finally, Fred's legs gave out. He stumbled, his knees hitting the snow-covered earth with a dull thud. He crawled toward a gnarled tree trunk, leaning his back against it while gasping for air like a fish out of water. George collapsed beside him, his face a pale, sickly shade of white that made his freckles stand out like splatters of mud.
"The... the dog..." Fred wheezed, clutching his side. "Did it... did it follow us?"
George risked a glance back at the empty, silent path. The only things visible were their own messy, staggered footprints. "I don't... think so. Merlin's beard, Fred. That wasn't a dog. That was a nightmare with too many mouths."
"I thought we were dead," Fred admitted, his voice trembling. "I actually saw my life flash before my eyes. Most of it was just us getting detention, but still, it was terrifying."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, letting their heart rates drop from 'imminent explosion' to 'standard panic.' As their brains finally began to receive enough oxygen to function, the realization of their situation hit them.
"Wait," George said, sitting up straighter. "Where are Albert and Lee?"
Fred blinked, looking around the desolate landscape. "They left before us, didn't they? Albert said to get out, and then he just... vanished. Lee was right behind him."
"But we ran down the main path," George pointed out, his brow furrowing. "If they were ahead of us, we should have caught up. Or at least seen them. But there aren't any other tracks in the snow."
A cold dread, separate from the fear of the monster, settled in Fred's chest. "You don't think they... they got trapped, do you? What if that thing got them before it turned on us?"
"Don't be stupid," George snapped, though he looked just as worried. "It's Albert. He's probably halfway to the common room by now, sipping tea. But Lee... Lee isn't as quick."
Fred looked back toward the dark treeline. The thought of going back made his stomach churn, but the thought of leaving his roommates behind felt worse. "We have to go back. We can't just leave them to be puppy treats."
"Right," George sighed, pushing himself up with trembling limbs. "Back into the jaws of death. We're definitely getting into Gryffindor history books for this—or the obituary section."
They began to trek back, their movements slow and cautious. Every rustle of a leaf made them jump. However, they hadn't gone far when a shape emerged from the gloom. It wasn't a three-headed monster, but a very disgruntled-looking Lee Jordan. He was walking toward them, dusting snow off his robes and muttering curses under his breath.
"Lee!" Fred shouted, half-relieved and half-confused. "You're alive! Where's the monster? And where's Albert?"
Lee stopped, crossing his arms and glaring at them. "Oh, now you care? You two ran off like your pants were on fire! You left me there to face Hagrid's wrath alone."
"Hagrid?" George asked, blinking. "Hagrid was there?"
"He showed up right after you two started screaming like little girls," Lee grumbled. "He called the beast 'Fluffy' and told it to heel. Then he spent the next ten minutes lecturing me about 'respecting nature' while that thing tried to sniff my pockets for snacks."
"Wait, so you were there the whole time?" Fred asked, his eyes widening. "And Albert?"
"That's the best part," Lee said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Albert didn't even get caught. He pulled a disappearing act the second he heard Hagrid's boots. I threw him under the bus—told Hagrid it was all his idea—but Hagrid didn't even believe me because Albert was nowhere to be found. He's a ghost, I tell you. A ginger-hating ghost."
"He really left us?" George asked, a mix of admiration and betrayal in his voice.
"He didn't just leave," Lee corrected. "He escaped with style. I bet he's already back at the castle, probably judging us for our lack of cardiovascular endurance."
"Speak of the devil," a calm, melodic voice drifted from the shadows of a large oak tree nearby.
The three boys jumped, spinning around to see Albert leaning against the bark, looking perfectly relaxed. He wasn't even out of breath. In fact, he looked like he'd just stepped out of a library rather than a monster-infested forest.
"You!" Lee pointed an accusing finger. "You coward! You left me to be scolded by a giant!"
"Coward?" Albert raised an eyebrow, a small, playful smirk dancing on his lips. "I believe the word you're looking for is 'efficient.' I told you all to leave. I gave you the warning, the means to hide, and the opportunity to exit. If you decided to stay and host a screaming competition, that's hardly my fault."
"We thought you were in trouble!" Fred argued, though his voice lacked conviction.
"I am never in trouble, Fred. I am the one who calculates the trouble," Albert replied smoothly. "And for the record, running with your back turned to a Cerberus is a terrible tactical choice. Predators love a chase. If Hagrid hadn't been there, you would have been a very athletic appetizer."
"You were watching us, weren't you?" George accused. "You hid and watched us make fools of ourselves."
"I prefer to think of it as 'overseeing your practical exam in survival,'" Albert joked, pushing off the tree. "And you both failed. Miserably. But, since it's cold and we all survived, I propose we move this discussion to a warmer location. I've already sent a message to the kitchens."
The four of them made their way back to the castle, the tension slowly bleeding away as they entered the warmth of the stone corridors. They slipped into the kitchens, where the house-elves greeted Albert with the kind of reverence usually reserved for royalty. Within minutes, a small fire was crackling in one of the hearths, and the snow mushrooms they had gathered were being sliced and sautéed in butter and herbs.
The smell was heavenly—earthy, rich, and slightly nutty. As they sat around a wooden table, chewing on the tender, roasted mushrooms, the terror of the forest felt like a distant memory.
"Seriously though," Fred said, his mouth full of mushroom. "Is Hagrid mental? Keeping a Cerberus near a school? That thing could swallow a first-year whole without chewing."
"It is a bit much, even for Hagrid," Albert agreed, sipping some warm cider. "But don't worry too much. Fluffy won't be in the forest forever. Once he's fully grown, he'll be too much for Hagrid to hide. Dumbledore will likely have to ship him back to Greece or find a... specific use for him."
"A use?" Lee asked, skeptical. "What use is there for a giant dog that eats everything?"
"Guarding things," Albert said simply. "It's what they're bred for. Three heads mean three sets of eyes that never sleep at the same time. It's the ultimate security system."
"I don't care what he's guarding," George shuddered. "I'm staying away from it. By the way, Lee said you petted it? Like... you actually touched it?"
The twins stared at Albert, waiting for him to deny it. Surely, no one—not even Albert—was that insane.
Albert looked thoughtful for a moment. "Oh, Fluffy? Yes, I rubbed his head a few months ago. Back then, he was only about the size of a large pony. His fur is surprisingly soft, actually. A bit coarse on the neck, but if you hit the spot behind the left ear, he turns into a giant puddle of mush."
"You're a freak," Fred said, shaking his head in disbelief. "A literal freak. You petted a Greek myth while we were nearly eaten by it."
"It's all about the approach," Albert explained, leaning back. "Most creatures aren't inherently evil; they're just hungry or bored. Fluffy was bored. A bit of enchanted jerky and a firm hand, and he's just a very large puppy."
"A puppy that could bite your head off," Lee muttered.
"Details," Albert waved a hand dismissively. "My only regret is that I didn't have my camera. Imagine the look on Professor Silvanus Kettleburn's face if I'd shown him a photo of me scratching a Cerberus. I probably would have gotten an automatic 'O' for the year."
"You're a real warrior, Albert," George laughed, finally feeling his spirits lift. "A crazy, mushroom-eating, monster-petting warrior."
"I prefer 'scholar,'" Albert corrected with a wink. "But I'll take warrior if it means I get the last mushroom."
As they finished their meal, the four roommates shared a rare moment of genuine camaraderie. They had faced a monster, survived a giant's lecture, and ended the night with a feast fit for kings. And while Fred and George were still a bit traumatized, they knew one thing for certain: as long as they were with Albert, life at Hogwarts was never going to be boring.