The Three-headed Dog's Weakness

On the Hogwarts Express, each compartment was fairly empty—far fewer people heading home for Christmas than the crowds that had boarded at the start of term.

In one compartment, Hermione's face was twisted with conflict.

She clutched a crumpled piece of parchment, densely packed with notes copied from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, The Encyclopedia of Magical Creatures, and Ancient Studies of Magical Beasts.

Three-headed dog.

Music.

Sleep.

Those three words were circled heavily in red ink, over and over.

Hermione bit her lower lip, her brow furrowed tight.

Over the summer, she'd plowed through a mountain of books on magical creatures and found Fluffy's weakness.

But now she didn't know whether to tell Charlie and the others.

She didn't want them breaking rules to go on some adventure.

That last night-time escapade had been dangerous enough. If they got caught, they might really be expelled.

Just then, Charlie dragged his luggage onto the train, poking his head into each compartment to see who was inside. He was looking for a familiar face or an empty seat.

Spotting Hermione, he slid the door open and stepped in.

He swept his gaze around the compartment, saw the deep worry on her face, and raised an eyebrow.

"You constipated?"

Hermione's face flushed bright red, and the parchment nearly slipped from her hand.

"No!"

She shoved the parchment into her pocket, her voice going shrill.

"And now I know why Professor Snape always picks on you."

Charlie flopped down across from her, all casual.

"That's because he's a creep. Nothing to do with me—I'm a decent guy."

"Oh, by the way, did you like my Christmas gift?"

Hermione's anger faded. She was getting used to his flippant attitude.

Those notes had been a huge help, especially the Transfiguration section. Charlie had written it out in more detail than the textbook.

Every spell's key points, the angle of the wand movement, even common mistakes—all marked clearly.

"You must have put a lot of thought into it, right?"

Charlie nodded seriously.

"Yep. I made it specially for you. Glad you like it."

[Detected Your Majesty talking nonsense with a straight face, bamboozling a young lady. Tyrant Points +2]

Charlie ignored the system.

Hermione was deeply moved, and a little guilty at the same time.

Charlie's gift had taken so much effort, and all she'd given him was an alarm clock.

Sure, she thought he really needed one—otherwise he'd always show up to class right on the edge of being late.

But in terms of value, an alarm clock obviously didn't match Charlie's notes.

It made her feel stingy.

She made a decision in her heart, took a deep breath, and spoke up.

"You've always wanted to see what's under Fluffy, haven't you?"

Charlie's attention snapped to her, leaning forward.

"You know how to get past Fluffy?"

"I looked through a few books on magical creatures over the break."

As she spoke, she pulled one thick tome after another from her luggage.

"This is Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them."

"And this is..."

Watching Hermione rattle them off like a pro, Charlie's scalp tingled. Reading that many books in one summer?

She was practically a superhuman.

"I found out that a three-headed dog falls asleep when it hears music."

"Music..."

"Any kind of music works?"

"The book says it's soothing music, like a lullaby."

"The three-headed dog looks fierce, but it's actually easy to hypnotize."

Charlie nodded. This was a real pleasant surprise.

He already knew the Philosopher's Stone was down there, and he wasn't interested in it anyway, but breaking Dumbledore's rules would definitely rack up plenty of Tyrant Points.

He slapped the table, making the teacup on it jump.

"Hermione, you're amazing!"

Hermione suppressed the corners of her mouth from curling up and lifted her chin slightly.

"Knew you lot couldn't handle it. Consider this my Christmas present."

She paused.

"But Charlie, I don't want you to take risks."

"Professor Dumbledore set the rules himself—we're not supposed to go there."

Charlie wasn't listening at all; his mind was already mapping out a night route.

He looked at Hermione, eyes sparkling.

"You in?"

"No."

Hermione refused without a second thought.

Charlie narrowed his eyes, sizing her up with a look full of doubt.

"Really not in?"

He pointed at the Parchment in her hand.

"You looked up the info, and you're still not coming?"

Hermione caught his skeptical gaze and felt inexplicably annoyed.

"Not coming! If I go, I'll jump off the Hogwarts Astronomy Tower!"

Charlie's expression turned even stranger, like he was watching an old general planted with flags all over a stage.

The train slowly pulled into Hogsmeade station. Charlie and Hermione got off and headed to their dorms to change into uniforms.

Just as Charlie finished changing, he heard the bell from the Great Hall.

"Right on time for the feast."

He hurried toward the Great Hall.

Today was the last day of Christmas break, so the feast was quite lavish.

The long tables were piled with all kinds of food: Roast Turkey, honey-glazed ham, cream of mushroom soup, pudding, and every sort of pastry imaginable.

Charlie walked over and sat down next to Ernie.

"Charlie, long time no see." Ernie grabbed him excitedly.

"How was your holiday?"

"Not bad, spent it with the family." Charlie grabbed a sausage.

"What about you?"

"I went to Germany to visit my aunt, but her place was boring." Ernie said, pulling a stack of Parchment from his pocket.

"Thanks for the Christmas gift, Charlie. Your notes were really helpful. Here, your holiday homework."

Charlie took the homework and set it aside.

Ernie and Hermione had covered all of Charlie's holiday homework; Hermione had already handed her part over on the train.

At the teachers' table, every professor was in their seat. Classes started tomorrow, so their break was over too.

The four heads of houses chatted while eating.

"Oh, did you know? A First Year Wizard gave me a Christmas gift this year."

Professor Flitwick showed off to the other professors.

"What a coincidence, I got one too. Must be Charlie." Professor McGonagall smiled knowingly.

"He gave me a big batch of catnip. My cat was high all break."

Actually, she'd been high all break too, but that wasn't something she could bring up.

Professor Flitwick wiped his glasses, touched.

"That kid's so thoughtful. He knows I have trouble stepping on books during class."

"I got one too."

Professor Sprout was grinning the widest. Having a student from her own house be so considerate naturally made her look good.

The three professors laughed together.

"This is quite unusual," Professor McGonagall remarked.

"First Years are usually afraid of us; very few think to give teachers gifts."

Listening to the trio's conversation, Dumbledore's blue eyes behind his spectacles grew thoughtful.

The last student beloved by all the professors was named Tom Riddle.

He turned his gaze toward Charlie. That black-haired boy was laughing and chatting with his classmates, sunny and open in demeanor.

Back then, Dumbledore had also sat at the staff table, listening to colleagues praise Tom, watching Tom bask in his peers' adoration.

Oh, this damned déjà vu.

But Dumbledore wouldn't hold that against Charlie. People were different from one another.

He had seen the evil lurking in Tom's heart back then, and now he could see the innocence in Charlie's—well, admittedly a bit odd in its purity, but the boy wasn't bad.

This wasn't some mind-reading magic, just a centenarian's knack for reading people.

Professor Flitwick then turned to Snape.

"Severus, did you receive a gift from Charlie?"

The air went dead silent.

Snape sliced into the steak on his plate with an expressionless face, his black eyes sweeping coldly around.

"No."

His voice was terrifyingly calm.

Professor Flitwick realized he'd misspoken, awkwardly shut his mouth, and pretended to focus on the food before him.

Snape shot a cold glance toward Charlie's direction.

Charlie happened to look up while sipping his soup, keenly sensing someone watching him.

He turned and met Snape's black eyes directly.

Charlie immediately broke into a bright grin and even waved at Snape.

Snape's face darkened further.

"Weird," Charlie muttered under his breath.

"Professor Snape's hair is still all greasy—why didn't he use my thirteen-in-one shampoo?"

"Does he not like it?"

Watching all this unfold, Dumbledore chuckled silently. It seemed not every professor was fond of Charlie after all.