Chapter 22: The Philosopher’s Stone [Side Story]

The Tale of Draco’s Burden: The Three-Headed Dog

In the darkness of the Trophy Room, long after curfew. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood with their wands at the ready, their pajamas rustling as they strained their senses, prepared to unleash their magic the moment their opponent appeared.

Pansy Parkinson—the Slytherin girl who had foully insulted Maria. There was no way they could forgive her. While Maria’s doting nature toward Harry was famous, few realized that Harry loved her just as much in return. Who wouldn't protect their only family?

Caught up in Harry’s fury, Ron and Hermione wore matching scowls, channeling their fighting spirit into their wands as they waited for that hateful, pug-like face to appear through the Trophy Room door. They waited—and waited—and waited.

"...Did that girl lose her nerve?"

No one knew who spoke first, but just as a sinking feeling began to dampen their spirits, a third voice—one that shouldn't have been there—answered Ron’s mutter.

"—It’s about time you realized you’ve been set up."

"Eep!"

"Yikes!"

"Gah!"

At the sound of that cold voice, the three of them jumped simultaneously. A pale, handsome face loomed out of the darkness; his translucent skin and blue eyes made him look like a lifeless vampire, causing the trio to shrink back and huddle together like a bunch of grapes. It was, frankly, quite rude of them.

"W-W-What are you doing here, Malfoy?!"

Ron pointed a finger at Draco, attempting to sound brave as he shielded his friends, but in reality, his voice was trembling pathetically. Just then, moonlight spilled into the corridor, catching Draco Malfoy’s platinum blonde hair in an ethereal, halo-like glow.

Wait, is this guy actually alive? Ron wondered privately.

"I just told you. Pansy set you triplet up. Filch will be here any second instead of her. If you don't want a shared detention, I suggest you get back to your common room immediately."

"Draco, did you come all the way here just to tell us that?"

"It seems someone from my House is causing trouble... and I’m loath to give her any more material to mock me with."

"What? What did you say?"

"Never mind that. It doesn't concern you."

Draco turned his back on them as if the conversation were over, but Ron, as usual, snapped at him. Harry was ready to follow Draco’s advice without question, but Ron grabbed Harry’s arm. He moved to grab Hermione’s hand as well, but hesitated for a moment before shouting again at the boy standing in the moonlight.

"T-There’s no proof you aren't in on it!"

"...Beg pardon?"

"Because you’re a Slytherin! And a Malfoy! If we just do what you say, you’ll probably go around tomorrow telling everyone we ran away! I know what you’re up to!"

"Honestly, Ron—"

"Idiot! If you shout that loud—"

Harry, caught between his bickering friends, could only fluster about, while Hermione and Draco both tried to silence the agitated Ron. But it was too late.

"Aha! Student voices! Over here!"

It was Argus Filch. His raspy, spiteful voice was accompanied by the screech of an ugly cat; Mrs. Norris was clearly following her master with her usual devotion. It was a poor choice for a pet's walking route, to say the least.

"Tch... Too late. Run! Stay together and we can lose him!"

"Why should I take orders from—urk!"

"This is no time for a fight!"

Hermione, showing no mercy, grabbed Ron by his pajama collar and took the lead. Harry followed close behind. And bringing up the rear—the rearguard—was Draco.

"Draco, what should we do? We’re going to get lost at this rate. We still aren't used to the layout of the castle!" Harry pleaded between gasps for air.

Up front, Hermione’s prodigious memory allowed her to navigate perfectly to any classroom she had visited before. However, she was relying purely on memory; she wasn't superhuman enough to navigate an unknown corridor on instinct alone. The only person Harry knew who could pull off such a feat was his sister, Maria. Or perhaps, one other person.

"I’ve memorized it. No matter where we end up, I’ll get you back to the Gryffindor Tower."

"Draco..."

Until recently, Harry hadn't known what to make of Draco. He was a gentleman—though perhaps a bit forward with physical contact—and he was the first friend to reach out and explain the wizarding world and the school to a confused Harry. (Technically Hagrid was his first friend, but Draco was his first friend his own age.)

Draco had said they should stay friends even if they were in different Houses. Yet, in Potions class, he hadn't defended Harry when he was being mocked. He had looked away as if he couldn't hear anything. Harry had felt that his profile looked cold in that moment.

But now, here he was, breaking school rules just to help them. Maybe he is a good guy after all.

Just as Harry was lost in thought about the boy running a step behind him, something scurried past their feet.

"Eek! No—a rat!"

"It’s just a rat! It’s probably someone’s escaped pet—whoa!?"

Startled by the rat, Hermione jumped, which in turn startled Ron so much that he knocked over a nearby suit of armor. An impossibly loud crash echoed through the nighttime corridor.

"There! Stay where you are, you little brats! Come on, Mrs. Norris, let’s catch us some rats!"

Predictably, they heard Filch’s heavy footsteps rounding the corner toward the source of the noise. This was the worst-case scenario.

"Find a classroom to hide in!"

"I—I can't, they’re all locked... Oh, fine! Alohomora!"

Harry and Ron stared in shock at Hermione’s unexpected boldness as she brandished her wand to bypass the locks. Draco pushed them both through the door, and the four of them tumbled inside. They shut the door instantly and held their breath. For several minutes, they listened as Filch, seemingly convinced the room was locked, marched past with his cat.

The four of them let out a long sigh of relief.

"Impressive, Granger. Your quick thinking is always remarkable."

"Oh, it was nothing... It’s only because Malfoy stayed calm."

"Yes, I suppose so. 'Normally,' people don't react like that over a mere rat."

"If I may, Mr. Pure-blood Ron Weasley? In the Muggle world, rats are considered very unhygienic and troublesome pests. 'Normally,' not many people like them. I don't know about you and your Scabbers, though!"

"Hmph!" Hermione huffed at Ron, her whisper laced with enough sarcasm to sting. Ron looked sullen, clearly annoyed by the rapport between Hermione and Draco, while Hermione was more than ready to fight back. Draco, for some reason, had a distant look in his eyes. Harry watched the three of them, thinking once again what a strange group they were.

Ron’s hatred for Slytherins—specifically the Malfoy grudge he’d inherited from his father—was nothing new. It seemed Ron mostly just hated Draco for being "stuck up" (at least in Ron's eyes), though Harry thought Draco’s occasional mean-spirited remarks didn't help matters.

Anyway, back to the point.

"I’ll check the corridor first to see if Filch is gone. When I open the door again, you three—Harry?"

Harry was filled with instant regret.

They had run for their lives and finally found a place to catch their breath. The tension had drained out of him, right down to his toes. Honestly, he had been foolishly thinking he just wanted to rest a bit before heading back.

Then, there was a sound. From behind him.

The other three were too busy bickering to notice. Only Harry turned around to investigate the strange noise. And he regretted it.

Eventually, when Harry didn't respond to Draco’s suggestion, the other three followed his gaze. They, too, were filled with regret. They really shouldn't have looked.

Grrrrrrrr...

A dog of impossible size, with an impossible number of heads and impossible fangs, was looking down at them with six eyes.

"...Change of plans. Harry, you take the lead. Don't split up. When I give the signal, get out of here. I’ll be last. Understood?"

"D-Draco..."

"—GO!!"

As Draco shouted, a flash of light erupted from his wand toward the middle head of the snarling three-headed dog. Harry didn't know what spell it was. They simply scrambled out into the corridor as if their lives depended on it.

Oh, no. It couldn't be. Was this really the "Third Floor" that was rumored to be so dangerous?

"Draco!"

Harry grabbed Draco’s hand as the boy stood his ground before the beast to protect them. They ran. They ran and ran, feeling as though the three-headed dog was right on their heels.

Before they knew it, they were back on a familiar path. They ran. The entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room appeared. They ran. They shouted the password to the Fat Lady. They ran, ran, ran. Three sets of footsteps pounded up the stairs.

In the common room, where the lights had long been dimmed, they saw Maria sitting on a sofa, looking over an old piece of parchment she’d been studying lately. Ah—finally, it felt like they were back in reality.

As his favorite person in the world handed him a cup of cocoa to help him catch his breath, Harry realized something.

"Ah..."

The hand of the friend he had been gripping so tightly had slipped away somewhere along the way.