The last three days of the week at Hogwarts were pure chaos, with battles breaking out left and right.
Peeves, in his chaotic, mischievous glory, escalated things to a whole new level. What started as two separate showdowns—Filch vs. Peeves and Mrs. Norris vs. Scabbers—spiraled into an all-out, no-holds-barred brawl. It was a free-for-all: humans vs. ghosts, cats vs. rats, humans vs. cats, ghosts vs. cats, ghosts vs. rats, humans vs. rats, and everyone vs. everyone else.
Main Cast: Filch, Mrs. Norris, Peeves, Scabbers.
Special Guest Star: Ron Weasley.
The drama unfolded with wild twists and turns, the characters bursting with personality. The fight scenes? Absolutely spectacular, one epic moment after another. Hogwarts was thrown into such disarray it felt like the sun had dimmed, the moon had vanished, and the very essence of magic was fraying at the edges.
The students, meanwhile, were eating it up. For the first time, they got a front-row seat to a real-life, high-stakes chase involving humans, animals, and ghosts, set against the complex terrain of Hogwarts with a dash of magical flair. It was way better than any Hollywood blockbuster.
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Monday morning kicked off with Ron's panicked yell jolting Harry awake.
"Agh! Scabbers is gone again!"
Ron, still in his pajamas, was shaking an empty pet cage, his face a mask of terror.
Harry fumbled for his glasses, clocked Ron's near-breakdown expression, and tried to reassure him. "Calm down, mate. Scabbers has been fine all these days. Mrs. Norris won't get him today either."
"Scabbers might be fine, but I'm losing it! This happens every single day—I'm going mental!" Ron raked his hands through his red hair, making it even messier than Harry's.
The commotion woke the other boys in the dorm. Dean Thomas, mid-yawn, chimed in, "Why don't you skip the potion for Scabbers for a few days? I reckon your rat's just overdosed on energy. All that extra pep's got him running off to tease the cat for kicks."
"Yeah," Seamus Finnigan added. "Normal rats hide from cats. Only Scabbers goes looking for trouble."
"But…" Ron stopped clawing at his hair, his face scrunching up in a conflicted frown. Back when he was a kid, Scabbers was already an old, lazy rat—eat, sleep, repeat, barely moving when awake. This was the first time Ron had seen his pet so full of life. He wasn't keen on stopping the potion.
Ten minutes later, Harry and Ron headed downstairs for breakfast. On the third floor, they spotted Peeves chasing a chubby, ghostly girl down the corridor. He was pelting her with a peashooter and cackling, "Ugly Moaning Myrtle! Pimple-faced Myrtle! Cry, cry, flood the whole corridor!"
Poor Myrtle was sobbing hysterically, her transparent eyes like broken faucets, tears pouring out endlessly. Peeves kept shooting and taunting, Myrtle kept running and crying, leaving a trail of water spots on the floor.
Harry and his friends carefully sidestepped the ghostly drama and tiptoed downstairs. When they reached the Great Hall and settled at the Gryffindor table, they all let out a collective sigh of relief.
Harry recounted the third-floor chaos to Hermione. "…By the time we left, that poor ghost had fled into the bathroom. Hope she shakes Peeves off."
Ron, still fretting over Scabbers, muttered absentmindedly, "I was wondering why Peeves hadn't shown up in ages. Now it's like he's been to some prankster academy or something—his chaos game's on another level."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "The ghost Peeves was chasing is Moaning Myrtle. She lives in the third-floor girls' bathroom. And no, there's no such thing as a prankster academy for ghosts."
Ron pouted, mumbling under his breath, "Just a joke. No sense of humor."
As they chatted, Leon strolled into the Great Hall for breakfast and dropped the latest update on the third-floor saga. "Filch and Peeves are going at it up there. Peeves pulled some stunt, and now half the corridor's underwater. Filch is furious."
Harry blinked. "Already? When we passed through, there were just a few puddles!"
Hermione jumped in with an explanation. "Moaning Myrtle has this ability—when she cries, the water in her bathroom surges. With how hard she was sobbing today, it's no surprise the corridor's flooded."
Ginny, overhearing, nodded. "No wonder! I went to the third-floor girls' bathroom once, and it was so wet I nearly slipped."
The group buzzed with excitement as they ate, their breakfast tasting better than ever. Ron, however, was too worried about Scabbers to enjoy his food. After a bit, he couldn't sit still any longer and stood to go look for his rat.
Leon casually mentioned, "We saw Mrs. Norris on our way down, didn't we, Colin?"
Colin looked up from his soup, nodding vaguely. "Yeah, think so. Third floor, right?"
Leon blinked. "I thought it was the fourth floor. Cats hate water, so she probably wouldn't go to the third—unless she was chasing Scabbers."
Ron nodded, taking it in, then bolted upstairs to search for his pet, leaving Harry and Hermione behind.
After breakfast, the group split up—some headed to class, others to catch a nap, and a few to hunt for a missing rat. Leon, Ginny, and Colin went to the first-floor Transfiguration classroom to wait for their lesson. Gryffindor second-years had no classes until Herbology at 10:30. Hermione made a beeline for the library, while Harry went to find Ron.
When Harry and Hermione reached the third floor, the corridor was eerily empty—no people, no animals, no ghosts. The water had risen to ankle-deep, still flowing steadily from under the girls' bathroom door.
The bell for first period rang. Tiptoeing through the flood, Harry and Hermione climbed the deserted stairs when a grey rat suddenly darted ahead.
"Scabbers!" Harry's green eyes lit up as he sprinted after it.
Hermione sighed but followed. They chased the rat to the fourth floor, passing the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, careful to keep their steps light. But just as quickly as Scabbers appeared, he vanished again.
They rounded a corner into another empty corridor. Harry wasn't giving up—he'd seen the rat head this way. Glancing at the suits of armor lining the walls, he turned to Hermione. "Do you think Scabbers could've hidden inside one of those?"
Hermione frowned. "If he was in there, we'd probably hear him. Besides, those suits are Filch's pride and joy. Break one, and he'll have your head."
Harry hesitated, not caring much about Scabbers himself but worried about how stressed Ron was. Just then, footsteps echoed from ahead. Ron burst out of the trophy room, panting.
"Ron, were you chasing Scabbers? We just saw him around here!" Harry called.
Ron only nodded, brushing past them to keep running. Harry and Hermione hurried to catch up. The three scoured the fourth floor with no luck. As they debated whether to try the fifth floor or backtrack to the third, a familiar scream of terror echoed from below.
The trio exchanged glances and raced downstairs. At the same time, the scream drew curious students from nearby classes, including nearly the entire History of Magic class on the second floor.
Dozens of students poured into the third floor, with Harry, Ron, and Hermione at the front. They froze at the bizarre sight before them: Draco Malfoy, pale and horrified, standing outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office.
Under a torch, a dead cat was hanging… and—
"No! My Scabbers!" Ron wailed.
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