Chapter 1 – The Duel That Never Was
The Great Hall buzzed with the kind of restless energy that always seemed to follow the end of lessons. Candles floated lazily above the long tables, dripping wax that vanished before it touched wood or plate. Students huddled in little cliques, trading gossip over half-eaten puddings and pumpkin juice, the noise rising into a chorus of whispers and laughter.
And at the center of it all — Harry Potter.
He sat at the Gryffindor table, Hermione on his left, Ron on his right, both of them leaning close as if to shield him from the rest of the hall. Of course, shielding Harry was impossible. Ever since the news that he had been made Seeker — the youngest Seeker in Hogwarts in living memory — he had been unable to walk ten steps without someone whispering his name. Some Gryffindors clapped him on the back and beamed as though his achievement were theirs. Slytherins sneered openly. Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws watched him with a mix of awe and envy.
Harry did his best to smile, to nod politely, to keep his head down when the attention grew too thick. But inside, he was tired of it already. It's only Quidditch. Percy would laugh at me for letting it get to my head.
As though summoned by the thought, his eyes strayed toward the Slytherin table. Percy Chronos sat with Artemis and Athena — one hand lazily tracing circles on Artemis's wrist as she leaned close, the other arm slung over the back of Athena's chair. They were the picture of casual confidence, unbothered by the stares that clung to them like shadows. Percy caught Harry's glance and offered the faintest of nods — approval, calm, as if to say: Yes. Let them whisper. You're above it.
It was that quiet affirmation that steadied Harry when Draco Malfoy rose from the Slytherin table.
Malfoy strutted across the hall, Crabbe and Goyle lumbering behind him like pale shadows. His drawl carried easily over the hum of chatter.
"So it's true," he sneered, stopping directly across from Harry. "Our precious celebrity really has been handed the Seeker position. No tryouts, no competition. Just handed to you like everything else."
Ron immediately puffed up beside Harry, his ears glowing red. "Harry earned it! He flew better than anyone else could! You're just jealous, Malfoy."
Draco's smirk widened. "Jealous? Please. My father could buy the entire Gryffindor team new brooms tomorrow if I asked him to. Unlike you —" his pale eyes flicked over Ron's patched robes, the corners of his mouth curling cruelly — "I don't need to cling to fame to be noticed."
The jab stung. Ron's face went scarlet. "Say that again, ferret!"
"Ferret, am I? At least I'm not dragging along with a pauper and a half-blood for friends." Draco leaned forward, his gaze locking on Harry now, cold and bright. "Tell you what, Potter. Duel me. Midnight, the trophy room. Let's see if you're really more than a broomstick trick."
The hall went quiet. Even the floating candles seemed to pause, their flames flickering low.
Harry opened his mouth — not to accept, but to dismiss it. It's obviously a trap. Malfoy wants me caught, wants me punished. Percy warned me about this kind of bait.
But Ron slammed his hand on the table and stood. "Fine! He'll be there! Harry doesn't back down from cowards like you."
"Ron!" Harry hissed, glaring at him. "What are you—"
Hermione's voice cut sharp and shrill. "Are you both mad? A duel? You'll be expelled!"
Draco chuckled, satisfied. He gave Harry a mocking bow. "Midnight it is, then. Don't be late. Wouldn't want to ruin your precious celebrity reputation."
He turned on his heel, Crabbe and Goyle guffawing as they followed him back to the Slytherin table. The whispers surged back immediately, louder than before, spilling from table to table like fire catching dry grass.
"Did you hear? Potter's dueling Malfoy."
"Midnight, in the trophy room."
"First-years! They'll get expelled!"
"Potter's going to crush him."
"No, Malfoy's trained since he could walk. His father—"
Harry sank back onto the bench, scowling. "I didn't agree to that."
Ron slapped his back as though he'd done him a favor. "Doesn't matter. You can't back down now, mate. Everyone heard."
Hermione's lips thinned to a furious line. "That's exactly what Malfoy wanted! You're falling into his trap!"
Harry's jaw clenched. He wanted to shout that he wasn't stupid, that he knew it was a trap — but what good would that do? Already students were watching him with gleaming eyes, waiting for his reaction.
And across the hall, Percy sat back with Artemis and Athena, his smirk unreadable. Artemis whispered something in his ear, and Athena's laugh — low, sharp — cut across the hall like glass. Percy only raised his goblet in Harry's direction, an unspoken challenge: Well? How will you play this, Harry?
The corridors of Hogwarts had a way of swallowing sound at night. By the time Harry, Ron, and Hermione crept out from Gryffindor Tower, the castle seemed alive with whispers and creaks, as though the stones themselves leaned in to listen.
Hermione marched at their side, arms crossed, muttering furiously. "I told you both this is ridiculous. You'll get expelled, and for what? Malfoy isn't going to show up. He'll be tucked in bed while Filch drags you away by your ears."
Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh, give it a rest, Hermione. This is how wizards settle things. Honor, bravery, courage—"
"Stupidity," she snapped.
Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. He wasn't nervous about Malfoy — he was nervous about what Percy would say when he inevitably heard about this. Percy had drilled into him: Think. Always think before you act. Don't let enemies pull your strings. And here he was, sneaking out at midnight because Ron had taken the bait.
When they reached the trophy room, moonlight poured in through tall windows, glinting off silver plaques and polished cups. Shadows stretched long across the floor. It was empty.
"Told you," Hermione hissed. "No one's here."
Ron looked around, scowling. "He'll come. Malfoy wouldn't back down—"
A sudden clatter echoed from the far side of the hall. For a heartbeat, Harry thought Malfoy had arrived — but then the hiss of a lamp and the slow, unmistakable shuffle of footsteps reached them.
"Filch," Harry breathed.
Panic surged. Hermione's face turned ghost-white. "I told you! Now we're all going to be expelled!"
They bolted. Their footsteps thundered against stone, bouncing off walls as they fled blindly down corridor after corridor. Filch's voice carried after them, gleeful and cruel.
"Students out of bed! I'll have you in chains by dawn!"
Twisting through the maze of passages, they turned one corner too sharp — and skidded to a halt.
The door before them was ajar, a musky smell seeping through the crack. Ron shoved it open in desperation, and the three of them tumbled inside — only to freeze.
It was not a classroom. It was not a storage room.
It was a death sentence.
Three massive heads lifted from the darkness, each muzzle glistening with drool, each pair of eyes burning like coals. The beast filled the room, its paws the size of cauldrons, claws scraping the stone floor.
"A three-headed dog," Harry whispered, his mouth dry.
Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream.
Ron stumbled backward. "Bloody hell—"
The dog snarled, lips curling back from teeth longer than knives. Only then did Harry's eyes drop to the trapdoor beneath its paws — a trapdoor leading somewhere the dog clearly guarded with its life.
He yanked them both back into the corridor just as the beast lunged, the door slamming shut behind them with a crash that rattled the walls.
For a long, breathless moment, they only stared at each other in the torchlight.
"What was that?" Ron panted.
Hermione's eyes were wide, furious. "That was not meant for us. That was meant to protect something." She glared between the two of them. "And this is exactly what happens when you charge into traps like idiots."
Harry's chest heaved, but his mind was already racing. He thought of Percy's calm gaze, of Artemis and Athena's knowing smiles. They'd seen this coming, hadn't they? They always know more than they say.
"I'm going to bed," Hermione snapped. "If you have any sense, you'll do the same. And next time Malfoy tries to bait you—don't rise to it."
She stormed off, her footsteps echoing angrily down the hall.
Ron turned to Harry, grinning despite his pale face. "Still… did you see that thing? A three-headed dog! We're going to have the best stories by the time this year's done."
Harry didn't answer. His thoughts were already elsewhere — on the trapdoor, on the secrets Dumbledore was hiding, and on Percy's faint smirk across the hall.