Hogwarts' school rules fill pages of its history, but the most important one is barely mentioned: All rules are void until you're caught.
The Corridor
Mrs. Norris leapt onto a step, her lean, sharp frame outlined by dark gray fur that shimmered in the moonlight.
Sean's heartbeat thundered in his ears, loud enough to wake the dozing portraits on the walls.
Moonlight slanted through the tall, narrow windows, casting pale patches on the stone floor, as if ghosts might spring from them at any moment.
Nighttime wandering was strictly forbidden.
Sure, it was practically a Gryffindor tradition, but that didn't mean the professors wouldn't come down hard on those reckless little lions.
Sean remembered how Harry and his friends, after sneaking back from the Forbidden Forest, were caught by Filch in the castle and reported to Professor McGonagall. They lost a whopping 150 house points and got detention.
The reason? Students had no business roaming the school in the middle of the night—it was dangerous.
For Sean, losing points was no big deal; he could earn them back quickly.
But detention? That was a problem. Detention meant being stuck doing chores for a professor, eating up precious time—and time was something Sean desperately needed.
His breathing grew heavier as his mind raced. If he got detention, the past month's hard work would be for nothing.
But how could he avoid punishment?
A breeze swirled through the window, and sometimes, a chance comes out of nowhere.
Mrs. Norris meowed softly and, to Sean's surprise, sidled up to him. He could see a hint of affection in the eyes of Filch's trusty assistant.
"Oh, you're welcome," Sean said.
It clicked.
Three days ago, near the dungeons, Sean had seen a group of Gryffindors cornering Mrs. Norris.
Filch was so despised by the students that they wouldn't hesitate to take it out on Mrs. Norris, too, given the chance.
Sean had watched for a moment until the bold Gryffindors left on their own.
"Thanks, Mrs. Norris," he'd said.
Now, he remembered something and pulled a tin of dried fish from his bag—courtesy of Justin.
As Mrs. Norris nuzzled his hand, Sean couldn't resist patting her furry head.
[You've earned the affection of the magical creature Mrs. Norris (Cat) at a skilled level. Proficiency +10]
A sudden panel notification startled him. He opened it and saw a new entry under proficiency:
[Magical Creature: Mrs. Norris (Cat) - Not Yet Friendly (10/90)]
[Apprentice-level Magical Creature Affinity: Unlocks Apprentice-level Magical Creature Title]
What an unexpected bonus.
Lost in thought, Sean moved quietly along the corridor.
Far behind him, at the end of the hallway swallowed by thick darkness, two faint, glowing yellow orbs hovered low in the air.
It was Mrs. Norris.
She moved silently, her soft paws gliding over the cold stone without a sound.
Her lamp-like yellow eyes, capable of seeing through anything, locked onto the small figure ahead—the one she felt drawn to.
In her mouth, she lazily but precisely carried a tiny, dried silver fish. Its faint, briny scent glimmered in the moonlight with each subtle movement of her head.
"Oh, Minerva, as I've said, magical creatures always spot the kind ones right away," said a long-bearded wizard in a purple robe, standing beside a gleaming suit of armor. His words carried a knowing weight.
To his left, the tall witch's eyes never stopped worrying. She watched Sean's pale face as he fumbled through the flickering light, her gaze distant and unfocused.
Then, the wizard's bright blue eyes twinkled. The suit of armor beside Sean suddenly dropped its sword.
Clang! The sound was deafening in the silent night.
Sean froze and turned his head.
Was he so exhausted he'd gotten clumsy? He didn't remember touching that armor.
No time to think—he quickened his pace to get out of there. The wind whistled past his ears, and the tension of sneaking around at night kept him from noticing the corridor growing brighter.
A figure carrying a lantern burst out from behind a tapestry to Sean's right, panting heavily, frantically scanning for rule-breakers. A thick, checkered scarf was wrapped around his head, and his nose was an unnatural shade of red.
Sean ducked behind a suit of armor, his heart pounding.
"Sean Green! Nighttime wandering! Making a mess everywhere! I've had enough, Green! Come with me!" Filch barked.
Well, that's it. Caught.
Sean sighed and stepped out from behind the armor, oddly calm now.
Meanwhile, near another suit of armor, Minerva McGonagall whipped her head around, her eyes practically shooting sparks. The old wizard pretended not to notice, looking away.
"Ah, Minerva, we both know this boy doesn't deserve punishment. But let's see how he handles… Mr. Filch, shall we?"
…
Sean never imagined he'd end up in Filch's office like this. Most students avoided the place like the plague.
It was a dim, grimy room with no windows, lit only by a single oil lamp dangling from the low ceiling.
The air reeked faintly of fried fish.
Wooden filing cabinets lined the walls, their labels revealing detailed records of every student Filch had ever punished.
Fred and George alone took up an entire drawer.
Behind Filch's desk, a wall displayed a gleaming set of chains, manacles, and shackles. Everyone knew Filch constantly begged Dumbledore for permission to hang students by their ankles from the ceiling.
But Sean was more bothered by the muddy floor and walls, along with the stench of what looked like rat guts—clearly the work of some daring student's prank.
"Those blasted kids, leaving mud everywhere! Three hours of scrubbing and wiping!" Filch muttered. "Ah—Green, Green, so bold. Time to make an example of you… Where's the form… Here it is…"
He pulled a large roll of parchment from his desk drawer, spread it out, and dipped a long black quill into an inkpot.
"Name… Sean Green. Crime…"
"Nighttime wandering," Sean admitted plainly.
Filch froze, caught off guard.
"You admit your crime? And you still dare to be so bold? I'll have you expelled!" he snarled.