Hagrid could tell that Harry was out of breath from running. The young wizard's chest rose and fell rapidly as he approached, his urgency palpable in every step. Hagrid, seated in an oversized armchair outside his humble dwelling, looked up with a warm smile. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing thick forearms adorned with a smattering of freckles, and he was engrossed in the task of shelling peas into a large bowl.
"Hullo," he greeted, his deep voice carrying a note of welcome. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?"
"Yes, please," Ron interjected between breaths, his chest heaving from the exertion of their sprint across the grounds. But Harry, his brow furrowed with concern, wasted no time in cutting him off.
"Sorry, Hagrid, we're in a hurry. I've got to ask you something," Harry said urgently, his words tumbling out in a rush. "You know that night you won Norbert? You mentioned you were playing cards with them. What did they look like?"
Hagrid's expression shifted slightly, a hint of curiosity flickering in his eyes as he considered Harry's question. He leaned back in his chair, the creak of the wood mingling with the rustle of the surrounding trees.
"Dunno," he replied casually, a shrug lifting his broad shoulders. "He wouldn' take his cloak off."
The nonchalant manner in which Hagrid dismissed the question sent a shiver down Harry's spine. There was something unnerving about the way Hagrid seemed unfazed by the memory, as if it were just another inconsequential detail in his larger-than-life existence. Harry exchanged a quick glance with Ron and Hermione.
He saw the three of them look stunned and raised his eyebrows.
"It's not that unusual, yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head—that's the pub down in Hogsmeade. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn' he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up. Lotsa people who visit the Head take care to protect their person."
Harry sank down next to the bowl of peas, the wooden floorboards creaking softly beneath his weight. The warm afternoon sunlight filtered through the small windows of Hagrid's hut, casting dappled patterns across the worn, wooden furniture. The air was heavy with the earthy scent of the forest, mingling with the comforting aroma of Hagrid's cooking.
"What did you talk to him about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?" Harry's voice was tinged with a sense of urgency, his mind racing with a flurry of questions and possibilities.
"Mighta come up," said Hagrid, his brow furrowing as he tried to recall the details of their conversation. "Yeah...he asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here. He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I took after, so I told him. an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon. An' then...I can' remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks. Let's see...yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it if I wanted...but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home...So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy..."
"And did he—did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Harry asked, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his mind. But inside, his brain was running at a hundred miles a minute, piecing together the fragments of information in a desperate bid to uncover the truth.
"Well—yeah—how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep—" Hagrid suddenly looked horrified. "I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" he blurted out. "Forget I said it! Hey—where're yeh goin'?"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged uneasy glances, their minds racing with the implications of Hagrid's inadvertent revelation. The air inside Hagrid's hut seemed to thicken with tension, the walls closing in around them as they grappled with the weight of their newfound knowledge.
But there was no time to dwell on it now. With determined resolve, they bid Hagrid a hasty farewell and bolted out the door, their footsteps echoing against the worn path as they raced back toward the castle.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn't speak to each other at all until they came to a halt in the entrance hall, which seemed very cold and gloomy after the vibrant energy of the grounds.
"We've got to go to Dumbledore," said Harry, his voice urgent as he addressed his friends. "Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy, and it was either Snape or Voldemort under that cloak—it must've been easy, once he'd got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn't stop him. Where's Dumbledore's office?"
“It’s that griffin statue on the third floor!” exclaimed Ron, his eyes widening with realization. “When we were going to the bathroom to stop that troll, we his right behind it!”
Recognition flared in Harry’s eyes. “That’s it! We’ll just have to—" Harry began, but a voice suddenly rang across the hall, interrupting their conversation.
"What are you three doing inside?"
It was Professor McGonagall, her sharp gaze piercing through the air as she entered the entrance hall, a towering stack of books precariously balanced in her arms.
"We want to see Professor Dumbledore," said Hermione, her voice surprisingly steady despite the gravity of their request. Harry and Ron exchanged glances, impressed by her courage.
"See Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall repeated, her tone laced with skepticism. "Why?"
Harry swallowed hard, his mind racing for a suitable explanation. The urgency of their mission weighed heavily upon him, and he knew they couldn't afford to falter now.
"It's sort of secret," he said tentatively, immediately regretting the vague response as Professor McGonagall's stern expression hardened.
"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," she replied, her voice tinged with coldness. "He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once."
"He's gone?" Harry exclaimed frantically. "Now?"
"Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter," Professor McGonagall retorted, her demeanor unyielding. "He has many demands on his time—"
"But this is important," Harry interjected desperately, his sense of urgency escalating with each passing moment.
"Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Potter?" Professor McGonagall's voice crackled with disbelief.
"Look," said Harry, his resolve strengthening as he threw caution to the winds. "Professor—it's about the Philosopher’s Stone—"
Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn't that. The books she was carrying tumbled out of her arms, but she didn't make any move to retrieve them.
"How do you know—?" she spluttered, her eyes widening in shock.
"Professor, I think—I know—that Sn—that someone's going to try and steal the Stone. I've got to talk to Professor Dumbledore."
She eyed him with a mixture of shock and suspicion, her brows knitting together in concern. "Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," she said finally, her tone firm. "I don't know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it's too well protected."
"But Professor—"
"Potter, I know what I'm talking about," she said shortly, her words brooking no argument. With a brisk movement, she bent down and gathered up the fallen books. "I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine."
But they didn't.
"It's tonight," said Harry, his voice urgent as he spoke once he was sure Professor McGonagall was out of earshot. "Snape's going through the trapdoor tonight. He's found out everything he needs, and now he's got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up."
"But what can we—" Hermione gasped, her voice trailing off in alarm. Harry and Ron wheeled round, their hearts pounding with apprehension.
Snape was standing there.
"Good afternoon," he said smoothly, his tone unsettlingly calm.
They stared at him, their expressions a mix of shock and apprehension.
"You shouldn't be inside on a day like this," he continued, his lips curling into an odd, twisted smile that sent shivers down their spines.
"We were—" Harry began, his words faltering as he struggled to find the right explanation, but Snape's piercing gaze cut through his hesitation like a knife through butter.
"You want to be more careful," Snape interjected smoothly, his tone laced with a cold edge that sent shivers down Harry's spine. "Hanging around like this, people will think you're up to something. And Gryffindor and Ravenclaw can’t afford to lose anymore points, can it?" His words were like venom, dripping with disdain as he cast a disdainful glance at Ron, “Maybe Hufflepuff will join their ranks.”
Harry felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment under Snape's scrutinizing gaze. With a sense of defeat, he turned to leave, but Snape's voice cut through the air like a whip, stopping them in their tracks.
"Be warned, Potter—any more nighttime wanderings and I will personally make sure you are expelled. Good day to you."
With that ominous warning hanging in the air, Snape swept away in the direction of the staff room, his dark robes billowing behind him like the cloak of a vengeful specter. As the echoes of his footsteps faded into the distance, Harry turned to his friends with a sense of urgency.
"Right, here's what we've got to do," he whispered urgently, his voice barely above a breath. "I'm going out of here tonight and I'm going to try and get to the Stone first."
"You're mad!" exclaimed Ron, his voice tinged with disbelief and a hint of fear.
"You can't!" protested Hermione, her eyes wide with concern. "After what McGonagall and Snape have said? You'll be expelled!"
"SO WHAT?" Harry's voice reverberated through the empty corridor, his words charged with a mixture of desperation and defiance. "Don't you understand? If Snape gets hold of the Stone, Voldemort's coming back! Haven't you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over? There won't be any Hogwarts to get expelled from! He'll flatten it, or turn it into a school for the Dark Arts! Losing points doesn't matter anymore, can't you see? D'you think he'll leave you and your families alone if any of our houses win the house cup? If I get caught before I can get to the Stone, well, I'll have to go back to the Dursleys and wait for Voldemort to find me there, it's only dying a bit later than I would have, because I'm never going over to the Dark Side! I'm going through that trapdoor tonight and nothing you two say is going to stop me! Voldemort killed my parents, remember?"
His words hung heavy in the air, the weight of their implications pressing down upon them like a suffocating blanket. Harry's eyes blazed with determination, his gaze unwavering as he fixed his friends with a steely stare.
He glared at them, his jaw clenched in frustration and resolve.
"You're right Harry," Hermione spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper, a note of remorse tingeing her words. “I know how serious this is. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like I wasn’t against him coming back.”
"I'll use the invisibility cloak," said Harry, his tone resolute as he seized upon a plan of action.
"But will it cover all three of us?" Ron's voice was tinged with uncertainty, his brow furrowed in concern.
"All—all three of us?" Hermione's words echoed Ron's incredulous question, her eyes widening in realization.
"Oh, come off it, you don't think we'd let you go alone?"
"Of course not," Hermione interjected briskly, her tone laced with determination. "How do you think you'd get to the Stone without us? I'd better go and look through my books, there might be something useful..."
"But if we get caught, you two will be expelled, too," Harry pointed out, a note of concern creeping into his voice.
"It’s like you said, Harry,” Hermione started, her expression grave. “What point is getting expelled if there’s no school to get expelled from?" said Hermione grimly. "Besides, Flitwick told me in secret that I got a hundred and twelve percent on his exam. They're not throwing me out after that."
After dinner, the three of them sat nervously apart in the Gryffindor common room, the weight of their impending mission hanging heavy in the air. The crackling fire cast flickering shadows across the room, lending an air of solemnity to the tense atmosphere. Nobody bothered them as Hermione meticulously pored over her notes, her brow furrowed in concentration as she searched for any clue that might aid them in their quest. Meanwhile, Harry and Ron sat in silence, the only sound the soft rustle of pages and the occasional squeak of Scabbers as he scurried about Ron's lap, his tiny claws scratching against the fabric of his robes. Both of them were lost in their thoughts, their minds consumed by the gravity of what they were about to undertake.
Asher lingered by the common room fire, their gaze fixed on the trio huddled together in a corner. They seemed lost in their own world, their usual lively banter replaced by somber whispers and furrowed brows. Concern gnawed at Asher's heart as they watched them.
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Approaching the trio with a gentle smile, Asher greeted them softly, their voice filled with genuine warmth. "Hey, guys. How's it going?" their tone laced with genuine concern.
Harry looked up, his eyes clouded with a hint of weariness. "Hey, Asher," he replied, his voice lacking its usual vigor.
Ron and Hermione exchanged a quick glance before Ron spoke up. "Not great, to be honest," he admitted, his shoulders slumping slightly. “But it should be better soon.”
“Is it anything to do with the things you’ve been studying since exams have ended?”
Harry shared an uneasy look with Ron and Hermione. “I’m sorry, Asher. It’s something I wish we could talk more about. It’s not you...it’s—”
“It’s Hagrid,” Hermione chirped in. “We’ve been trying to cheer up Hagrid since he got...well, since we all got in trouble with McGonagall. We’ve been able to make up for some of it,” she continued.
“But Hagrid is still down in the dumps—feels responsible for it and all,” finished Ron.
“Oh, I see,” Asher nodded. “I can understand that. It’s not like you all were doing anything malicious, even if you had broken a few rules.”
“Exactly,” Harry said with a nod, his expression thoughtful. “It’s like Professor Binns said, the ends justify the means. Something like that.”
“For the greater good,” Hermione corrected, her tone gentle yet firm. “Though, he was using that phrase as a negative when talking about Grindelwald.”
“Same difference really,” said Ron with a shrug. “Anyway, depressing stuff aside, how were your exams, Asher?”
Asher's eyes lit up, a genuine smile spreading across their face. “I’m feeling pretty good about most of them. Astronomy particularly. As a Gryffindor, of course, I’m worried about Potions, but the funny thing is, I don’t think Snape was really focused on anyone other than you during our exam, Harry.”
“Right annoying trait of his,” Harry mumbled, a hint of frustration coloring his tone.
Asher chuckled softly, their laughter echoing in the quiet room. “Right it is. Well, if it’s all the same to you, I think I’m going to head off. Night all.”
“Night, Asher,” the trio replied in unison, their voices echoing softly in the dimly lit common room.
“Oh, and,” they turned one final time, their gaze lingering on Harry with a mixture of concern and reassurance. With a reassuring smile, Asher reached out and gently squeezed Harry's shoulder. "If you feel like you want to talk about the real reason you’re studying dark arts and high-level protective enchantments, my ear is always available," they said warmly, their voice filled with empathy. "We're in this together, okay?"
They winked at Harry and whispered, “I’m not gonna spill. Just try to be careful, okay?” Their words were barely audible, but they carried a weight of understanding and support.
The tension in the room seemed to ease slightly as Asher's words sank in, a sense of camaraderie enveloping the trio once more. With a collective sigh, they bid each other good night, the weight of their worries momentarily lifted by the strength of their friendship. They watched as Fred and George, along with Lee Jordan, made their way up to their year's dormitory, their footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor as they disappeared from sight.
A second-year Gryffindor named Cormac McLaggen had approached Harry, his eager expression betraying his enthusiasm for the upcoming Quidditch tryouts. He hovered near Harry, fidgeting with the strap of his bag as he tentatively broached the subject.
"Hey, Harry," Cormac began, his voice tinged with excitement. "I was thinking, do you think you could put in a good word with Oliver Wood for me for next year's Quidditch tryouts?"
Harry glanced up from the book he was reading, his attention momentarily diverted from the pages in front of him. Quidditch, normally a topic that would pique his interest, seemed inconsequential compared to the weight of the task that loomed before him. Nevertheless, he offered Cormac a half-hearted nod of acknowledgment, his mind already drifting back to more pressing matters.
"Yeah, sure, I can do that, Cormac," Harry replied absentmindedly, his thoughts already having drifted elsewhere.
Cormac's face lit up with gratitude, his enthusiasm undimmed by Harry's distracted response. "Thanks, mate! I really appreciate it. I'll make sure to give it my all at tryouts."
With that, Cormac bid Harry farewell and bounded off, his energy palpable. But for Harry, Quidditch was the furthest thing from his mind right now, his thoughts consumed by the Philosopher’s Stone.
"Better get the cloak," Ron muttered.
"Good thinking," Harry replied, his voice low with urgency as he retrieved the Invisibility Cloak from his trunk. The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing along the walls as the fire crackled softly in the hearth. With practiced hands, Harry unfurled the cloak, its silken fabric shimmering in the firelight.
His gaze drifted to the corner of the room where the flute Hagrid had given him for Christmas lay nestled among his belongings. He reached for the flute, its smooth surface cool against his fingertips, and tucked it into his pocket. It was a comforting presence, a reminder of the friends who stood by his side.
With a sense of determination settling over him, Harry hurried back down to the common room where Ron and Hermione were waiting. The low murmur of conversation filled the air, punctuated by the occasional snore from one of the sleeping students sprawled across the nearby armchairs.
"We'd better put the cloak on here," Ron muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, "and make sure it covers all three of us—if Filch spots one of our feet wandering along on its own—"
"What are you doing?" came a voice from the corner of the room, breaking through the tense atmosphere. Neville Longbottom emerged from behind an armchair, his eyes wide with curiosity as he clutched Trevor the toad tightly in his hands, the amphibian squirming in protest.
Harry's heart skipped a beat, his grip tightening instinctively on the Invisibility Cloak hidden behind his back. He exchanged a quick glance with Ron and Hermione, their expressions reflecting a mixture of apprehension and uncertainty.
"Nothing, Neville, nothing," Harry replied quickly, his voice betraying a hint of nervousness as he attempted to conceal the cloak from view.
Neville's gaze lingered on their guilty faces, his brow furrowing in suspicion as he pieced together the fragments of the scene before him. Trevor let out a plaintive croak, as if sensing the tension in the air.
"You're going out again," Neville observed, his voice tinged with resignation as he voiced his realization.
"No, no, no," Hermione interjected hastily, her tone infused with forced cheerfulness. "No, we're not. Why don't you go to bed, Neville? It's late, and you need your rest."
Harry stole a glance at the grandfather clock standing sentinel by the door, its hands ticking steadily onwards. Time was slipping away, each passing moment bringing them closer to their confrontation with Snape and whatever lay beyond.
"You can't go out," Neville insisted, his voice trembling with concern. "You'll be caught again. Gryffindor will be in even more trouble."
"You don't understand," Harry began, his voice pleading as he tried to convey the urgency of their mission. But Neville's resolve seemed unshakeable, his gaze steely with determination as he prepared to take action.
Neville's voice trembled with defiance as he planted himself firmly in front of the portrait hole, his stance resolute despite the fear flickering in his eyes. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, a palpable tension radiating from his trembling form.
"I won't let you do it," he declared, his words laced with determination. "I'll—I'll fight you!"
Ron's frustration bubbled to the surface, his voice tinged with exasperation as he tried to reason with Neville. "Neville," he exploded, "get away from that hole and don't be an idiot—"
"Don't you call me an idiot!" Neville shot back, his voice quivering with indignation. "I don't think you should be breaking any more rules! And you were the one who told me to stand up to people!"
Ron's expression softened, a flicker of regret crossing his features as he realized the gravity of the situation. "Yes, but not to us," he explained, his tone pleading. "Neville, you don't know what you're doing."
With a determined resolve, Neville squared his shoulders, his fists raised in defiance as he braced himself for whatever was to come. "Go on then, try and hit me!" he challenged, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation. "I'm ready!"
Harry turned to Hermione, his eyes pleading for her to intervene. "Do something," he urged, a note of desperation creeping into his voice.
Hermione stepped forward, her expression pained as she met Neville's gaze. "Neville," she began, her voice trembling with regret, "I'm really, really sorry about this."
With a flick of her wand, Hermione cast the spell, her voice ringing out with determination. "Petrificus Totalus!" she whispered, her wand pointed squarely at Neville.
Instantly, Neville's body stiffened, his limbs snapping together as if pulled by invisible strings. His eyes widened in shock as he lost control of his movements, his rigid form swaying unsteadily before crumpling to the ground with a dull thud, his features frozen in a mask of stunned disbelief.
The dimly lit common room seemed to close in on them, shadows dancing ominously in the corners as Hermione knelt beside Neville, her hands trembling as she turned him over. Neville's eyes darted frantically, a silent plea for explanation etched in their depths as he struggled against the invisible bonds that held him in place.
Horrified whispers filled the air as Harry and Ron watched, their hearts heavy with guilt at the sight of their friend's plight. "What've you done to him?" Harry murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze locked on Hermione.
"It's the full Body-Bind," Hermione admitted miserably, her voice choked with regret. "Oh, Neville, I'm so sorry."
"We had to, Neville, no time to explain," Harry interjected, his words tinged with urgency as he glanced anxiously toward the staircase.
"You'll understand later, Neville," Ron added hastily as they stepped over their frozen friend and pulled on the invisibility cloak, its silken folds billowing around them like a shroud of secrecy.
Leaving Neville lying motionless on the floor felt like a heavy weight upon their hearts, an ominous portent of the dangers that lay ahead. Every shadow seemed to morph into the sinister form of Filch, every distant sound echoing like the mocking laughter of Peeves swooping down upon them.
As they cautiously ascended the staircase, their senses on high alert, they spotted Mrs. Norris skulking near the top, her piercing gaze fixed upon them like twin beacons of suspicion. With bated breath, they maneuvered around her, praying she wouldn't sound the alarm.
Their hearts pounded in their chests as they approached the staircase leading to the third floor, the treacherous carpet shifting beneath their feet as Peeves bobbed halfway up, a mischievous glint in his malevolent eyes.
"Who's there?" Peeves called out suddenly, his voice echoing eerily in the dimly lit corridor. "Know you're there, even if I can't see you. Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?"
He hovered in the air, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the empty space before him, a sense of unease creeping over him as he sensed a presence that eluded his sight.
Harry seized the opportunity, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper as he addressed the mischievous poltergeist. "Peeves," he intoned, his words dripping with urgency, "the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible."
Peeves recoiled in shock, his ethereal form wavering in the air as he struggled to process Harry's words. For a moment, he teetered on the brink of disbelief, then, with a startled yelp, he regained his composure and hovered about a foot off the stairs, his gaze darting nervously around the empty corridor.
Peeves recoiled as though struck, his normally mischievous demeanor replaced by a facade of obsequiousness as he addressed the invisible presence before him. "So sorry, your bloodiness, Mr. Baron, Sir," he simpered, his voice dripping with false deference. "My mistake, my mistake—I didn't see you—of course I didn't, you're invisible—forgive old Peevsie his little joke, sir."
"I have business here, Peeves," Harry's voice echoed, imbued with a commanding authority that belied his invisible form. "Stay away from this place tonight."
"I will, sir, I most certainly will," Peeves stammered, his eyes darting nervously as he rose back into the air. "Hope your business goes well, Baron, I'll not bother you."
With a final nod of acknowledgment, Peeves darted off, leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione to breathe a collective sigh of relief.
"Brilliant, Harry!" Ron whispered, his voice tinged with awe as they continued on their clandestine mission.
A few heartbeats later, they found themselves standing before the third-floor corridor, the door ominously ajar. The sight sent a shiver down their spines, the gravity of their task looming large as they exchanged apprehensive glances beneath the invisibility cloak.
"Well, there you are," Harry murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Snape's already got past Fluffy."
The reality of their situation seemed to settle over them like a heavy cloak, the weight of their mission pressing down upon their shoulders. With a silent understanding, Harry turned to his companions, his gaze steady and unwavering beneath the invisibility cloak.
"If you want to go back, I won't blame you," he offered, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "You can take the cloak, I won't need it now."
"Don't be stupid," Ron retorted, his tone firm and resolute.
"We're coming," Hermione declared, her voice unwavering in its conviction.
With a sense of determination, Harry pushed the door open, steeling himself. As the ancient door creaked open, low, rumbling growls reverberated through the chamber, sending shivers down their spines. All three heads of the massive dog turned in their direction, their nostrils flaring as they sniffed madly, though they couldn't see the invisible intruders.
"What's that at its feet?" Hermione whispered, her voice barely audible above the dog's ominous growling.
"Looks like a harp," Ron observed, peering through the darkness. "Snape must have left it there."
"It must wake up the moment you stop playing," Harry deduced, his voice steady despite the tension thick in the air. "Well, here goes..."
With a steadying breath, Harry brought Hagrid's flute to his lips and blew. It wasn't a melodic tune, but from the first haunting note, the beast's eyes began to droop. Harry hardly paused to draw breath, the melody flowing from him effortlessly. Slowly, the dog's menacing growls faded into silence as it tottered on its paws, succumbing to the enchanting music until it slumped to the ground, fast asleep.
"Keep playing," Ron urged Harry in a hushed tone as they slipped out from beneath the cloak, their movements cautious and deliberate as they crept toward the trapdoor. With each step, they could feel the dog's hot, smelly breath on their skin, its massive form a looming obstacle in their path.
"I think we'll be able to pull the door open," Ron suggested, peering over the dog's back. "Want to go first, Hermione?"
"No, I don't!" Hermione responded, her voice tinged with apprehension.
"All right," Ron conceded, his jaw set with determination. He carefully maneuvered over the dog's legs, his movements deliberate as he approached the trapdoor. With a firm grip, he grasped the ring and pulled, the heavy door swinging open with a creak, revealing the darkness below.
"What can you see?" Hermione said anxiously, her voice tinged with concern as she peered down into the darkness below.
"Nothing—just black—there's no way of climbing down, we'll just have to drop," Ron replied, his tone filled with uncertainty.
Meanwhile, Harry, who was still playing the flute, waved urgently at Ron to get his attention and pointed at himself, signaling his intention to descend first.
"You want to go first? Are you sure?" said Ron, his brows furrowing with concern. "I don't know how deep this thing goes. Give the flute to Hermione so she can keep him asleep."
Harry nodded, handing the flute over to Hermione with a sense of urgency. In the brief moment of silence that followed, the dog growled and twitched, its massive form stirring slightly. But the moment Hermione began to play, the enchanting melody filled the chamber once more, lulling the beast back into its deep slumber.
With a determined expression, Harry carefully climbed over the sleeping dog, his movements precise and deliberate. He leaned over the edge of the trapdoor, peering down into the abyss below. There was no sign of the bottom, only impenetrable darkness.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay ahead, and then lowered himself through the hole until he was hanging on by his fingertips. Looking up at Ron, he spoke with resolve.
"If anything happens to me, don't follow. Go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, right?" Harry's voice was steady, though a flicker of apprehension danced in his eyes.
"Right," Ron replied, his tone firm with determination. "See you in a minute, I hope..."
And Harry let go. Cold, damp air rushed past him as he fell down, down, down and...