A Harry way too cool
While everyone slept in the middle of the night, a heavy silence covered the castle. Even the ghosts who usually wandered the corridors seemed to have gone off to roam among the village graveyards, as if tonight in particular they preferred not to witness anything.
Although there was still one annoying poltergeist making noises in the halls and throwing buckets of water over Filch's head. Perhaps that was why the caretaker was always so irritable and haggard, unable to sleep a single night in peace while Peeves laughed right in his face.
Quirrell walked with slow, almost dragging steps as he emerged from the teachers' dormitory section. He closed the door carefully, as if afraid that a simple click might betray him. Then he turned around… and his breath caught in his throat.
An eleven-year-old boy was there, watching him with a calmness more fitting for an adult than for a student. Beside him, a small red dragon stared with a wild glint in its eyes, as if deciding exactly where on Quirrell's neck to sink its teeth. Quirrell blinked several times, unable to understand how he hadn't seen them a moment ago.
"Out for a walk, Professor Quirrell?" Harry asked with complete serenity, not caring in the slightest that he was outside his common room past curfew, nor that he was technically a student caught in a restricted area.
"P-P-Potter… w-what are you doing here? I-it's past curfew…" Quirrell stammered, his gaze darting between the boy and the dragon, which began to move to one side with slow, measured steps, studying the distance like a predator.
"Aren't you tired of speaking that way?" Harry said as he walked slowly to the opposite side of Red, both of them gradually surrounding him. "I heard that before you left for a year to 'train,' you were quite normal. I suppose something went wrong on that trip."
Quirrell swallowed hard, turning his head from side to side, searching for an exit that didn't exist. Sweat slid down his face in thick streams.
"I've had… p-p-problems…" he muttered in a trembling voice.
Harry didn't believe a word of it. He looked at him steadily for a moment, his green eyes showing no emotion at all. Then, with a simple flick of his hand, Red lunged at the professor, knocking him flat onto the floor with a heavy thud that made the suits of armor lining the walls rattle. The dragon planted its claw on Quirrell's chest and opened its jaws inches from his face.
"Aaaaah!" Quirrell screamed at the top of his lungs, a cry meant to summon any teacher who might rescue him. But no one came. No one even peeked out. It was as if the entire castle had decided this scene wasn't worth interrupting.
Harry crouched down beside him with calm, in a motion so controlled it looked rehearsed. His eyes remained fixed on the spot where he knew Quirrell kept his wand hidden, as if he had never considered looking anywhere else.
"You know, professor… I don't really care about whatever you're planning. If it bothers Dumbledore, I even find it amusing. Because unfortunately, my mother took away my chance to play the way I wanted. So now all of this is just a chess game to keep myself entertained. But if any of your moves put my friends or my family in danger… then I'm going to break your pieces one by one."
If anyone had seen Harry at that moment, they would have thought he wasn't a child anymore. His expression was identical to the one Daphne had tried to imitate on the train ride: cold, unshakable, authoritarian. But unlike Daphne, Harry did it perfectly. He looked like a reflection of Mr. Greengrass— that severe, intimidating bearing devoid of emotion that made no one dare contradict him.
And it made sense. During etiquette and behavior lessons, Harry had finished all the tests long before everyone else, so he had more free time. Time he had used to ask Mr. Edward to teach him Occlumency and something he called "dissuading presence"—a way to project a silent threat, without raising his voice, without casting a single spell. Just that dangerous calm that forced anyone to think twice before trying anything.
After all, they say children are shaped by those around them. And Harry had grown up among adults, each more extraordinary than the last: a president cold and authoritarian, a noble lady who could slap you down with nothing but words, an eccentric woman who might blow up her entire workshop while her husband watched with resignation, a man who looked like a jester but held enough power to change the fate of a country, a woman who always joked but was the only one with common sense because she'd lived in the Muggle world… and his own mother, who would destroy the entire wizarding world without hesitation if it meant protecting him.
"I-I… I don't know what you're talking about…" Quirrell muttered, his eyes locked on Red's teeth.
Harry stared at him for a moment without changing his expression. Then he stood up calmly.
"Come on, Red."
The dragon backed away with a low growl, but as he walked at Harry's side, every few steps he turned to throw Quirrell a warning look.
Quirrell watched them leave, his breathing ragged. For an instant, a dark glimmer crossed his gaze. Though he didn't notice that, far down the corridor, the suits of armor seemed to be watching him intently, as if silently measuring him, before they returned to pretending they were nothing more than lifeless decorations—while along their polished surfaces, runes glowed faintly, runes that anyone familiar with Harry's golems would have recognized instantly.
…
Harry walked through the corridors calmly, wearing a serene smile, as if he were simply enjoying the night. At his side, Red trotted along with cheerful steps, wagging his tail from side to side. His gaze seemed to say proudly, "I was right. The young master is brilliant."
As they passed, several portraits pretending to be asleep cracked an eye open with curiosity. Harry noticed them immediately, though he paid them no further attention. He continued on his way until he reached the door to Ravenclaw Tower, where the bronze eagle was waiting with its head held high.
"I walk without feet,
I fly without wings,
I cross your mind
Without being seen.
What am I?"
"Thought," Harry replied almost without pausing. The door swung open smoothly, allowing him inside.
Red entered first, trotting with enthusiasm, but stopped dead when he saw Daphne and Hermione standing in the middle of the common room with their arms crossed. Draco, meanwhile, was sitting in a corner, watching him with a calm expression.
The little dragon, summoning all the dignity he could muster, decided to pretend he hadn't seen them. He began to wander across the rug before pouncing on a cushion and biting it determinedly. A professional performance.
"Where did you go?" Hermione asked, narrowing her eyes as she watched him suspiciously.
"And why didn't you take us with you?" Daphne added, although her tone made it clear she was annoyed about something entirely different. Her comment immediately earned her Hermione's stern look.
"I took Red out for a walk. Every now and then he needs to stretch his legs… or he ends up destroying everything," Harry said calmly, shrugging.
"You know that even after practicing Occlumency, you're still really bad at lying, right?" Hermione replied seriously, fixing him with a look that didn't allow any excuses. Daphne wore a mocking smile, and even Draco, who had barely lifted his head, did the same.
"No. I'm actually quite good at it. You just know me too well," Harry said with a calm smile.
"Don't change the subject," Hermione insisted quickly.
"I was simply thinking about whether we should tell our parents," Harry commented in such a casual tone that everyone instantly fell silent.
"No." Daphne and Hermione said at the same time.
Even Draco looked up, his expression a little worried.
"If they find out the school isn't as safe as it's supposed to be… they'll probably come to take us home right away," Draco murmured, in a voice that made it clear that, though he'd never admit it openly, he'd grown attached to Hogwarts and the friends he'd made there.
Hermione understood too. Her first real friends had been Harry and the others. Thanks to them, she'd met Luna and Astoria. And for the first time in her life, she'd managed to make many more friends. In her Muggle school, she never could; here, though, she was even a little popular, one of the brightest students, someone who had known about magic before everyone else.
Daphne, for her part, was simply having too much fun every day. And a bit of danger was just part of the excitement.
"You know they'll find out eventually anyway. And then it will be worse," Harry said, shaking his head while still smiling. Especially because he knew perfectly well what his mother would be capable of if she found out they'd been in danger.
"Come on, Harry, a little excitement isn't so bad," Daphne said quickly. "Remember Sirius's stories. Sometimes these things happened… I don't think any magical school is free from it."
"I doubt it. Although, to be honest, Beauxbatons does sound quite nice. At the top of a mountain, with beautiful landscapes, and students without distinction of race or class," Harry replied calmly as he started walking toward the stairs. "But anyway… it's late. We'd better go to sleep," he added before heading up to his dormitory.
Daphne and Hermione looked at each other in silence for a moment. Draco gave a small smile before getting to his feet too.
"He really changes the subject so easily…" Hermione muttered, annoyed, as she tapped her foot against the floor.
"We laughed at Draco when he fell for the golems' trap… but he did the same to us," Daphne said with a sigh, though her expression was more amused than angry.