Standard Slytherin

Turning around, she saw Hermione, who was carrying a small bag and clutching her wand with a determined look on her face. "I'm coming with you to the duel."

"Say what?" Ron's eyes widened.

"Granger, have you lost your mind? You're the top student, the professors' favorite, and you're actually going to break the rules? I thought you were going to go tattle on us!"

"That was my original plan," Hermione admitted candidly, adding another sentence as she saw the color drain from their faces.

"But Tom is right—winning is what matters. Honestly, I don't even know what spells you two know. Are you really going to use your fists? You're wizards, not boxers!"

Harry and Ron felt both ashamed and embarrassed. They hung their heads and agreed to let Hermione join; at the very least, she knew more spells than the two of them combined.

The trio stepped out of the common room, and as soon as they reached the bottom of the stairs, they heard a heavy, wheezing sound.

Harry's heart tightened. Thinking it was Filch and Mrs. Norris, he turned to run, but the Fat Lady had already left, and the common room door was sealed shut.

"Don't run, it's me!" A familiar voice came from the corner. Hermione squinted and saw it was Neville.

"Neville, what are you doing here?" Harry let out a sigh of relief.

Neville scrambled up, tears in his eyes. "I forgot the password and couldn't get back in to sleep. Thank goodness you found me."

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance and tacitly looked away; they hadn't even realized Neville was missing from the dormitory.

"Is your hand alright?" Harry changed the subject.

"It's fine!" Neville held up his hand and shook it. "Madam Pomfrey just waved her wand and it was fixed. She's amazing!"

"That's good." Ron checked his watch, looking impatient. "The password is 'pig snout,' but the Fat Lady is out. You wait here for her; we have urgent business."

"Don't leave me!" Neville quickly grabbed Harry's arm. "I'm scared by myself. I'll go with you—I can help!"

Harry and Ron had no choice but to bring him along, turning their duo into a quartet. Harry consoled himself that there was strength in numbers and they could teach Malfoy a lesson.

The four of them crept along cautiously, poking their heads around every corner for fear of running into Filch. Fortunately, they successfully made it to the door of the trophy room on the fourth floor.

But there wasn't a shadow of Malfoy to be seen. Instead, they heard Filch's voice; he and Mrs. Norris were heading their way.

"You've been played by Malfoy!" Hermione hissed, slapping Harry in her frustration. She lowered her voice, "Quick, follow me through that door!"

Harry and Ron's faces turned dark with rage, and they could only scramble after Hermione as fast as they could. Harry cursed Malfoy a thousand times in his heart for the wasted anxiety.

"Clang—!" In his panic, Ron knocked over a suit of armor, the sound loud enough to wake the entire castle.

"Over there! Mrs. Norris, get them!" Filch's voice rang out, and his footsteps drew closer.

"Run!" Harry shouted. The four of them sprinted for their lives, tearing through corridor after corridor.

Just as they managed to shake off Filch, Peeves suddenly popped out and shrieked, "Thieves! Filch, they're over here!"

Terrified, the four ran again. Hermione, out of breath, tripped over her own feet and fell hard.

Hermione closed her eyes, bracing for the sharp pain, but it never came. Instead, she was caught by a pair of strong arms that smelled faintly of caramel.

Hermione snapped her eyes open, her pupils dilating as she looked at the person before her, her voice trembling: "Tom, what are you doing here?!"

Faced with Hermione's shocked question, Tom stiffened his neck and replied righteously, "I'm out for a night stroll. Or did you think I came to be your backup? We're all the same—just a bunch of rule-breakers."

Hermione wanted to roll her eyes; this guy talked about violating school rules as if he were strolling through a market.

But Filch's footsteps were getting closer. With no time to argue, she grabbed Tom's wrist and bolted. "Stop yapping! Filch is coming, hurry and hide!"

Tom was dragged along, stumbling as he watched the four directionally challenged kids lead him into a dead end. At the end of the hallway was a single door, and it was locked tight.

"We're done for!" Ron's legs gave out. Filch's footsteps, mixed with the meowing of Mrs. Norris, were almost at the corner.

"Move!" Hermione shoved Ron aside, pointed her wand at the lock, and spoke rapidly: "Alohomora!"

With a click, the lock opened. The five of them scrambled inside and covered their mouths, listening to Filch and Peeves bickering outside until the footsteps finally faded away.

"Are we safe?" Harry whispered. Neville immediately grabbed his sleeve and whimpered, "No, we're not!"

The group turned around and gasped in unison. Behind the door wasn't a classroom, but a narrow corridor.

At the end of it crouched a three-headed dog, its massive body filling the space from floor to ceiling. Six eyes were fixed directly on them.

Drool hung from its jaws, and the look in its eyes was exactly the same as the one they gave a roasted chicken leg.

ROAR—! The three-headed dog let out a furious howl that made their ears ring.

Hermione turned to twist the door handle. She would rather be punished by Filch for copying school rules than become a snack for a giant dog.

But because she had engaged the deadbolt earlier, the old lock was jammed; no matter how she pushed, it wouldn't budge.

"Tom! Don't go over there!" Hermione's soul nearly left her body as she watched the dog lunge, but Tom didn't retreat. Instead, he rolled up his sleeves and stepped forward to meet it.

"Stupefy!" A white light struck the middle head with precision. The head let out a pained cry, but it only left a white mark, making the beast even more enraged as it lunged at Tom.

Tom curled his lip and muttered, "I shouldn't have been polite to you. You think you're something special, don't you?" With a flick of his wrist, he began firing spells as if they cost nothing.

"Concussive Impact!" "Hurricane Blade!" "Wind Sweeps Away Clouds!"

Harry and the others were stunned into silence. Tom was like a human magical turret, casting spell after spell—some they had heard of, but most they hadn't.

The three-headed dog was so large that it didn't even need to be aimed at; it was pure area-of-effect suppression.

While the individual spells didn't deal much damage, the sheer volume was overwhelming. Even with the three-headed dog's thick hide, it couldn't withstand the barrage and retreated with a mournful howl.

Finally, it huddled at the end of the corridor, burying its three heads and whimpering, looking as aggrieved as a giant puppy.

Tom stopped what he was doing and looked back at Hermione, who was struggling with the door lock. His tone was lazy and infuriating, laced with a hint of excitement: "Still haven't fixed the lock? If you keep dawdling, the big dog will recover, and we'll all end up as a midnight snack."

"Ah? Oh!" Hermione snapped back to reality, fumbling frantically for a dozen seconds until, with a click, the lock finally gave way.

Ron squeezed through first, with Harry and Neville following close behind.

Before leaving, Hermione glanced at the Three-headed Dog, which was peeking its head out. She saw Tom raise his wand, casting a few beams of soft white light onto the beast—it was a Healing Charm.

"Whimper~" The Three-headed Dog let out a low whine, whether out of gratitude or fear, and buried its heads back down.

Tom paid it no mind, stepping out last and pulling the door shut behind him.