"Get down!"
The Weasley twins were the first to react. Shouting to each other, they moved in perfect sync, tackling Harry and Neville aside just as three massive jaws snapped shut, spraying strings of saliva through the air.
As Harry rolled across the floor, he glanced back at the spot where he'd just been standing—and met six lantern-sized eyes blazing with fury, white fangs glinting like knives.
The Three-Headed Dog.
Harry's head spun. The creature looked completely unbeatable.
Its first strike had missed, and that only enraged it further. All three snarling heads roared as the beast lunged straight at the nearest targets—Neville and Fred.
A huge shadow fell over them. Neville's round face went chalk white as the monster's massive body came crashing down.
Luckily, Fred's reflexes were quick. He rolled aside again just before the beast landed.
But rolling like this wasn't enough—at any moment, one swipe of its paw could crush them.
As he tumbled away, Fred shouted, "George!"
No more words were needed. The twins didn't need them.
George, who had dragged Harry into the corner, scrambled up. Safe from pursuit, he yanked out the spherical device they'd brought—the so-called Portable Swamp.
"Move!" George yelled, hurling the orb toward Fred and Neville.
Almost at the same moment, Fred pulled Neville aside, dodging the beast's third brutal strike.
But this time, when the hound landed, the orb burst open on the floor.
A strange powder spilled across the stone, and instantly the solid floor rippled, twisting into thick, sucking mud. The Three-Headed Dog, caught in the middle, sank straight down into the swamp.
"It worked!" George whooped, leaping into the air.
"Woohoo!" Fred, who'd just been rolling for his life, sprang up too. He rushed over to slap George's hand. "Portable Swamp—success!"
Harry stared at them, dumbfounded. "Wait—you weren't sure it was actually going to work?"
"Not exactly," George admitted. "We tested it—it does make swamps. We just hadn't used it in a real fight before."
"That's still reckless!" Harry exclaimed.
"Reckless? What's that to a Gryffindor?" Fred said with a cheeky grin. "Sometimes you just have to go for it. And look—here's the result."
He pointed proudly at the massive hound, thrashing helplessly in the mire.
Harry followed his gaze and finally let out a breath of relief.
The twins were right. The Portable Swamp had worked exactly as intended, trapping the Three-Headed Dog so it couldn't escape.
"But what is this three-headed dog?" Harry asked. "Some kind of magical creature?"
"Strictly speaking, it's called a Magical Beast. You'll learn about them in your third-year electives," George explained. "The Three-Headed Dog is a beast native to Greece. Extremely dangerous—the Ministry of Magic classifies it as XXX-level."
"XXX?" Harry frowned at the unfamiliar term.
"Too much trouble to explain now. Just know it's not something you want to mess with," Fred waved it off. "Come on, let's get a closer look. Not every day you see a Three-Headed Dog up close."
Curiosity tugged at Harry, and he followed the twins toward the massive hound still struggling in the swamp.
Neville, pale and shaken, had been sitting off to the side, but when he saw them moving closer, he scrambled to his feet.
"You okay, Neville?" Harry asked, his eyes still locked on the beast even as he checked on his friend.
"I'm fine, but that was terrifying." Neville thumped his chest. "Are you sure your swamp can really hold it?"
"The proof's right in front of you," Fred shrugged.
"Not bad… You planning to sell this thing? I'd buy some," Neville said.
"Of course! We'd love customers," Fred grinned, rubbing his hands. "And the Portable Swamp isn't our only product..."
While Fred launched into his sales pitch, George edged closer to inspect how well the swamp was holding up.
But before Fred could finish his spiel, George's uneasy voice cut in. "Guys… something's wrong."
"What is it?" Fred turned to look.
"The swamp's drying up!" George shouted in alarm. "Run!"
He bolted toward them, the ground behind him breaking apart into clumps as the Three-Headed Dog roared and clawed its way out of the half-dried mire.
Fred's face drained. "Quick! Use magic!"
He whipped out his wand and aimed it at the charging hound. "Stupefy!"
A flash of white light struck one of its heads—but the Stunning Spell did nothing. The beast didn't even flinch.
Neville and Harry yanked out their wands too, but as brand-new students, they had no real offensive spells. Their scattered charms fizzled out uselessly, like pebbles tossed into a lake.
"Where's your Portable Swamp? Use it again!" Neville shouted, waving his wand wildly.
"No! George is too close—throw it now and he's done for! You two, run for the door! Find a professor!" Fred yelled, sprinting toward his brother.
"Hey, mutt! Over here!" Fred roared as he charged.
The shout did grab the beast's attention, but such a small figure wasn't enough to distract it for long.
What it really wanted was the one who'd dared to trap it.
With a swipe of its paw, Fred was sent flying before he could react. He smashed into the wall and landed right in front of Harry and Neville, who had just been about to run.
The two froze in shock.
So this was a Magical Beast? Terrifying!
Seeing Fred groaning at their feet, Harry's face went white. Then, as the hound's three massive jaws opened wide, lunging at George, Harry screwed his eyes shut, unable to watch his blood spill.
But then a calm voice rang out.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
The beast, moments from tearing George apart, suddenly floated into the air. Its immense strength was useless without ground to brace against, and the prey that had been within reach slipped free.
"Arrrrgh… woof!" The hound howled in frustration, thrashing helplessly. Suspended in midair with no footing, it was nothing more than a lamb awaiting slaughter, its paws clawing at the air in vain.
Harry froze, then whipped his head toward the voice. His pale face broke into sudden relief and joy.
"Leonard!"
...
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