The Trap in Hogsmeade
"Alright, this is the last place for today. I'll leave a few..."
Harry stopped mid-sentence as he and Draco approached the enormous tree growing behind the castle. It was known as the Whomping Willow, famous for using its branches like giant fists to strike anyone who got too close. It wasn't exactly the kind of tree you wanted to meet on a bad day.
However, it wasn't the tree that made Harry fall silent. Draco, noticing his expression, frowned and turned his gaze toward the base of the Willow. There, beneath its roots, something quite peculiar was happening.
Nearly half a dozen pairs of eyes were staring at them from the shadows beneath the tree.
Red, Fluffy, Destructor, Dee, Terra, Buckbeak, and what seemed to be none other than Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, were all gathered under the tree as if holding some kind of secret assembly. The sight resembled a covert intelligence meeting or strategic council, and the silence that hung in the air only made it more absurd.
Once discovered, it was the animals who reacted first.
Fawkes vanished in a flash of red flames, leaving behind a faint scent of sulfur. Buckbeak immediately turned around and bolted toward the forest with a speed few hippogriffs could match.
The chaotic trio—Red, Destructor, and Fluffy—panicked, running in every direction, kicking up dust, and making a racket that could be heard all the way to the edge of the Quidditch pitch. Terra, the tiny fairy, disappeared without anyone noticing, taking the little snake Dee with her, as she always did when she preferred to avoid trouble.
"Wasn't Buckbeak supposed to be chained up?" asked Draco, following the fleeing creatures with his eyes.
"Should we pretend we didn't see any of that?" he added quickly, almost in a whisper.
"I don't have time to figure out what they're plotting," replied Harry, implicitly agreeing with the second question. Though he didn't have an answer for the first, it was most likely that the chaotic group had broken the chain that kept the hippogriff captive. "Come on," he said, approaching the Whomping Willow. He was curious to see where the secret passage beneath its roots led.
Of course, the tree wasn't going to let them pass so easily.
As soon as they came closer, the Willow's branches began to move threateningly, cracking through the air like whips. Harry raised his hands and channeled his chaos magic, wrapping the tree in a red aura that froze it instantly. The branches halted mid-swing, as if time itself had stopped around the trunk.
"Hurry," he told Draco, keeping his focus while the tree trembled, trying to break free from the spell.
Draco ran around the trunk, searching among the roots until his eyes caught a specific spot—a knot with a faint marking.
"Got it!" he shouted, pressing the spot.
Harry slowly relaxed his magic, and as he did, the Willow went completely still, petrified in place. He took a deep breath and walked toward Draco; together, they entered the hole beneath the tree, descending into darkness.
The tunnel was narrow and damp, its walls packed earth with thick roots jutting out from the ceiling. The light from their wands illuminated a long passageway clearly carved out by magic. After several minutes, they reached a wooden trapdoor.
When they opened it and peered through, they found themselves inside what looked like an old, abandoned mansion. The entire structure creaked and swayed slightly with the wind seeping through the cracks. The air was heavy with dust and a faint scent of mold. Around them, broken furniture, torn drapes, and shattered remnants of objects gave the impression the place had been deserted for decades.
Draco peered through a cobweb-covered window and recognized the silhouette of the village in the distance.
"This is... the Shrieking Shack, in Hogsmeade," he said, a mix of surprise and reverence in his tone.
"Uncle Lupin told me about this place," said Harry, scanning the room. There were claw marks on the walls and crushed bones scattered across the floor—some from chickens, others harder to identify. "This is where Dumbledore used to send him during the full moon, when he transformed into a werewolf. That was before the Marauders learned to become Animagi to keep him company."
A faint smile crossed his face as he touched one of the old scars on the wall.
"Fortunately, he doesn't have to suffer that anymore," he added quietly.
After all, Wanda had cured him. Though Lupin still felt uneasy during full moons, he was no longer a slave to the curse. He had spent years living in fear, isolated, branded as a danger to others. Now he was free.
Free, though not entirely from his best friend's whims, who made him work almost like a personal assistant.
But Harry knew Lupin was happy. He had a stable job—something he'd always struggled to maintain because of his condition—and, more importantly, he was starting to regain things he thought lost: respect, stability, and perhaps even love. For years, he had been afraid to get close to anyone for fear of passing on his curse; now, for the first time, he had the chance to live a normal life.
"I'll leave some golems here in case Pettigrew shows up, then we'll head back. Hermione and Daphne might need help," said Harry, pulling out his magic bag.
The pouch opened wide, expanding to a surprising size. From within, he drew a massive metal chest. When he opened it, its interior revealed a space far larger than it appeared, filled with various golems, spare armor, and neatly arranged metal parts. It was so full it seemed impossible for anything else to fit inside.
Draco raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. He was a creator himself and knew exactly how many golems could fit in such a space.
"Are you planning a war or something?" he asked skeptically.
Harry chuckled softly.
"Actually, before we came to Hogwarts, I thought about Sirius's idea—making the Headmaster face an army of golems. But well... not yet. Maybe someday."
As he spoke, he placed several small golems around the house, positioning them like magical surveillance sentinels. Each one activated with a faint blue flash, standing watch, alert for any movement.
After finishing, Harry stored the trunk containing his small army of miniature golems and placed it inside his magic bag. Once he made sure everything was properly sealed, he and Draco exited through the front door of the old, supposedly haunted house.
Of course, he already knew that Daphne and Hermione hadn't returned to Hogwarts; he had confirmed it through the Marauder's Map, which even showed Hagrid's hut in one of the corners. Both girls were still in Hogsmeade, and even though the Headmaster had never given them permission to leave the castle, Harry decided to ignore that little detail.
The two walked through the village, observing the lively bustle of students running between shops, carrying bags filled with sweets, books, and curious trinkets. Laughter and chatter filled the air. Harry and Draco took advantage of the atmosphere to buy some snacks while they searched for their friends. It didn't take them long to find them.
In the middle of the main square, a crowd had gathered around a group of Hogwarts students. At the center, Hermione and Daphne were in a heated argument with several Slytherin girls.
Draco and Harry exchanged a quick glance before hurrying forward. Hermione's irritated voice rang clearly above the murmur of the onlookers.
When they finally managed to push their way through the crowd, they saw Daphne with a look of restrained fury, ready to lunge at half a dozen Slytherin students. Among them was Pansy Parkinson, looking as arrogant as ever, surrounded by her entourage. Hermione was holding her friend back, trying to prevent the situation from spiraling out of control.
"Why are you so upset?" asked Pansy with feigned innocence, tilting her head with a mocking smile. "I only said the truth, didn't I? Potter is a danger to the school. Who's to say he won't turn into a dark wizard soon? After all, you've all seen it… he turned that boggart into a nightmare. Into what he truly wants to become."
Her voice carried a strange excitement, as if she were enjoying the way her words fueled the anger of the girls she despised so much.
"Shut up. Harry isn't going to become anything like what you're saying. Take it back, or I'll smash your mouth," Daphne warned, her tone filled with genuine fury. After all, they were talking about one of her closest friends—someone she had considered part of her family for years.
Pansy and her group burst into laughter, clearly enjoying the scene.
"A mudblood, a blood traitor, a psychopath, and a poor boy who, after losing his father, ended up licking the boots of the first people he met just to have friends," Pansy said, raising her voice so everyone could hear. "How amusing."
The air grew tense. A cold voice cut through the murmuring crowd.
"Hmm? And who's the psychopath? Me?"
Harry stepped forward, walking with calm but firm strides beside Draco. The blond's expression was unusually serious; he normally didn't get involved in these kinds of disputes, but insulting his friends was another matter. Pansy froze for an instant, but her surprise quickly faded. Her grin returned, even wider, as several Slytherin students began gathering behind her.
Within seconds, at least a dozen of them had formed a wall of support around her. Pansy straightened up with a triumphant air.
"Oh, looks like they've arrived," she said, clearly enjoying the attention.
Before she could add another word, Harry lifted his hand slightly.
The effect was immediate: Pansy's mouth snapped shut as if an invisible spell had sealed it. No matter how hard she tried to shout, no sound came out.
"If you truly believe I'm a psychopath, you must be quite brave to mock my friends," said Harry, stepping forward slowly, his tone calm but laced with quiet menace.
The Slytherins reacted at once, drawing their wands. Some were from upper years, and they watched him with a mix of contempt and confidence. Harry noticed something in their faces—they were waiting. Waiting for him to make the first move. This wasn't just a random provocation; it looked like a carefully planned trap.
None of them attacked. All kept their wands raised, their eyes fixed on him with that same expectant look.
Harry stopped. His expression turned thoughtful. He slowly turned his head, taking in the number of students forming a circle around them. Then he looked up toward the rooftops. There, hidden among the shadows, several students were positioned, holding what appeared to be magical cameras.
"Interesting…" Harry thought silently. "Looks like the Slytherins are planning something more elaborate than it seems."
Without saying another word, he turned around.
"Let's go," he murmured to his friends, his tone calm and steady.
"What's wrong, Potter? Scared?" shouted one of the Slytherins.
Harry didn't even look back. His steps remained calm, almost indifferent. Hermione, Daphne, and Draco understood immediately. There was something bigger behind that confrontation—the rival group wanted a reaction, one they could record and later use against them.
Draco cast a quick glance at the rooftops and nodded, confirming the suspicion.
Daphne, still furious, took a deep breath and followed them, not without first giving the Slytherins a look so cold that even Pansy—still unable to speak—shivered.
"Bah, cowards. You're a disgrace to every pureblood in England," shouted another Slytherin, trying to provoke one last reaction. But when no one responded, he only clicked his tongue in frustration.
As the group walked away, Harry led in silence, his mind replaying everything he had just seen.
"What do you think that was?" Draco asked in a low voice, his brow furrowed.
"At least half their house," Harry replied. "Didn't matter the year—there were students from first to seventh. The other half is probably back at Hogwarts looking for us. Seems like Slytherin is more united than ever." A faint smile tugged at his lips. "And I doubt it's because of house points."
Draco let out a short, amused snort, though his eyes remained tense.
The four continued walking toward the castle without stopping, unaware that the encounter they had just witnessed was only the beginning of something far greater.
Neither they nor the other students could imagine what the Slytherins, Professor Dominic Grey, or even Peter Pettigrew were plotting. But one thing was certain: their troubles had only just begun.