"Bloody hell, this isn't right! How can he run so fast?!"
"Stop whining and run! If Filch catches us, we're done for!"
Seamus risked a glance over his shoulder and paled, seeing Filch gaining ground with alarming speed.
Ron, however, remained surprisingly composed amidst the chaos, displaying a strange serenity perhaps born of sheer terror. He focused on fleeing, taking the time to offer a terse warning to Seamus.
But they were merely eleven-year-old wizards, their short legs no match for Filch's determined pursuit. Capture seemed inevitable.
Harry and Malfoy, leading the charge, recognized their predicament.
Their eyes met, understanding passing between them, followed by matching sinister smiles.
Ron and Seamus, observing this exchange, felt a chill run down their spines.
"What... what are you planning?" Ron stammered, a sense of dread washing over him.
Harry and Malfoy offered no verbal response, their smiles widening as they drew their wands.
Harry pointed his wand at Ron's leg, while Malfoy targeted Seamus's foot.
"You wouldn't dare!" Ron cried, his face contorted in disbelief.
"Dark wizards must do what dark wizards must do, wouldn't you agree?" Harry said coolly.
As they incanted the spell, Ron and Seamus felt their legs lock up, rendering them immobile.
In their final moments before collapsing, their eyes conveyed a mixture of despair and betrayal.
Harry and Malfoy didn't spare them a second glance, their footsteps echoing as they fled, leaving behind the sounds of Filch's triumphant cry, "Gotcha! You miserable brats!"
...
The two Slytherin students burst into the final chamber of the Third Floor Corridor, slamming the door shut with a resounding crash. Gasping for air, they leaned against the wooden barrier, their chests heaving.
After a long moment, Malfoy broke the silence. "What if they tell on us?"
Malfoy looked at Harry, concern etched on his face.
"What are you afraid of? They've got no proof. We'll just deny everything, right?"
Harry's response perfectly embodied his self-proclaimed title as "Second-in-Command of the Death Eaters"—he possessed a natural talent for the darker side of things.
"You're right." Malfoy visibly relaxed.
They rested back against the door, engaging in idle chatter.
"Hey! Malfoy, look, there are lanterns in here!"
"Where?"
"Those six glowing things inside!"
Intrigued, Malfoy rose to his feet and cautiously approached the "lanterns."
Harry followed close behind, curiosity piqued.
As they drew nearer, Malfoy's unease grew. Standing directly before the source of the light, he finally understood.
A monstrous, three-headed dog, easily ten feet tall, loomed before them. Six enormous eyes stared down, while saliva dripped from its gaping maws.
Malfoy offered a wry smile. "Dog, would you believe me if I said we were lost?"
"ROAR!!!"
The Cerberus's response left no room for doubt.
"Scarhead, RUN!"
Adrenaline surged through their veins, their bodies screaming at them to flee.
Harry surged forward, his gaze locked on the exit, his mind consumed with a single thought—open the door and escape with Malfoy!
Consumed by fear, neither of them noticed the heavy chains that bound the beast.
The Cerberus remained leashed, allowing them to successfully wrench open the door and stumble back into the corridor.
They slammed the door shut, this time from the outside.
Sharing a shaky glance, Malfoy asked, "What in Merlin's name was that?"
Harry stroked his chin, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I noticed something."
"Oh? Besides the fact that we nearly died?" Malfoy asked sarcastically.
"No, I saw there was a trapdoor that thing was sitting on." Harry grinned. "It must be guarding something! Maybe even treasure!"
Malfoy stared at Harry, unimpressed. "If you think you can take on that thing, be my guest."
"Uh… I can't." Harry scratched his head sheepishly.
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Then what's the point of all this talk? We might as well go back to bed and try to wake up early for breakfast."
"Hey, Malfoy, you've got to think bigger." Harry slapped Malfoy on the shoulder, "What if it's a priceless artifact? Imagine the recognition we'll get! My position as second-in-command, your place as third, practically guaranteed!"
"Why can't it be my second-in-command and your third?" Malfoy looked genuinely confused.
"It's all the same, really." Harry waved it off dismissively, "So, are you in or out?"
"I'm in!" Malfoy declared, "I'm writing to my father right now and telling him to convince Dumbledore to open that door."
"Tsk, always running to your father," Harry snorted in exasperation, "How will the Master ever see our power? We need to prove we're worthy of that Number Two and Number Three spot!"
"Hmm… Good point." Malfoy looked enlightened.
Guess I should talk to my dad less. Mom, maybe. Yeah, that could work. Malfoy nodded to himself, satisfied with his decision.
Unbeknownst to the pair, Dumbledore was eavesdropping on their conversation, his expression darkening with each word.
"Joining the Death Eaters"... These boys need guidance. This is all Tom's fault!
Tom, lurking behind Dumbledore using his Disillusionment Charm, chuckled inwardly. Didn't see that coming, did you, old man? Your precious Potter is taking after me!
"So, how are we going to steal whatever that thing is guarding?"
Malfoy looked at Harry expectantly, as if to say, 'I've got no ideas, what about you?'
"Uh… I don't know." Harry honestly shook his head. "First, we need to deal with that dog."
"We can't ask the Master for help, either," Malfoy reminded him, arms crossed.
Harry nodded in agreement, and they both sat down in front of the door to brainstorm.
After some time, Harry's eyes lit up. "What if we ask Cassandra or Hermione? As much as I hate to admit it, they know more than us."
"More than you, not me," Malfoy scoffed. I will always consider myself superior to the Gryffindor nuisance! And even though Cassandra terrifies me... I'll never admit she's better than me!
"Alright, alright, young master," Harry said, pushing himself to his feet. "Let's get some sleep. We don't want to be late tomorrow."
"Hey, wait up, Scarface!"