A massive hound loomed before the four of them, so large its heads nearly brushed the ceiling.
Three heads.
Three pairs of vicious, darting eyes.
Three twitching noses snuffling sharply in their direction.
And three drooling maws, strands of sticky saliva hanging like gummy ropes from its yellowed fangs.
The beast stood utterly still, all six eyes locked onto them.
Harry and the others had startled it just as much; for a moment, the giant dog didn't know how to react.
Then a deafening roar exploded through the room.
The sound jarred their bones. Instinct took over. They flung open the door and bolted.
In the face of death, nothing else matters.
Luckily, Filch was nowhere in sight. They didn't encounter anyone as they sprinted back through the halls.
At last, they reached the Fat Lady's portrait.
The Fat Lady eyed their sweaty faces in surprise. "What happened to you four? Where have you been, running yourselves ragged like that? Got chased by a dog, did you?"
She was… not wrong.
But none of them wanted to talk about it. They cut her off in unison.
"'Pig snout, pig snout'—just open up, please!"
The portrait swung aside. They scrambled through the opening and collapsed onto the couches inside.
The room filled only with the sound of harsh, uneven breathing.
Ron finally managed, "Why was there a dog—and three heads?! Why would anyone put something like that inside a school? That thing nearly bit us in half!"
Hermione, now breathing evenly again, had also recovered her usual temper.
"Are you four blind? Did you truly not see it?" she snapped. "You didn't notice what was right under its feet?"
"Its feet?" Harry echoed. "We barely had time to look at its heads, let alone its feet."
"That dog was standing on a trapdoor. Obviously, it's guarding something."
She stood, glaring at them in exasperation.
"If you don't mind, I'm going to bed. Who knows what brilliant plan you'll come up with next—something suicidal, no doubt. Or worse, something that gets us expelled."
Ron watched her storm off and shook his head. "She's lost it. Scared stiff."
"Yeah, go sleep! We didn't ask you to tag along," he muttered. "She's the one mixing things up. Doesn't even know what's actually serious."
Harry lay in bed later, staring at the curtains.
Hermione's words wouldn't leave him alone.
That dog was guarding something.
But what?
Hagrid once said that if you want to hide something, Gringotts is the safest place in the world—
Except maybe Hogwarts.
That thought triggered another memory: the headline he'd seen in the Daily Prophet, and the grimy little package he and Hagrid had removed from Gringotts.
The next morning, Draco Malfoy nearly dropped his fork.
Harry and Ron were calmly eating breakfast in the Great Hall.
By his logic, they should've been on the Hogwarts Express heading home in disgrace.
After waking up, Harry and Ron had decided that surviving an encounter with a three-headed monster dog was actually… exhilarating. They wouldn't mind doing it again.
Piecing together Hermione's hints, Harry relayed his theory to Ron—every word.
The filthy little package from Gringotts… it must be under that dog's trapdoor.
But what could it be?
"What else? Something incredibly valuable—or incredibly dangerous," Ron said.
"Or both," Harry murmured.
All he could be sure of was its size—about two inches long.
Everything else was pure mystery.
Neville and Hermione, on the other hand, showed zero interest in the dog, the trapdoor, or whatever secrets lay beneath. They were far too busy studying.
Time slipped by.
Harry trained with Wood for Seeker practice.
Neville experimented with his Sharingan.
Hermione threw herself into mastering the Shadow Clone Technique.
The eleven students who had obtained the Hao Fireball Technique were still struggling, hoping to eventually master it.
But the Great Fireball wasn't as easy as it seemed. Not a single student had succeeded so far.
Professor Snape, meanwhile, continued discussing potions and spellcraft with Jack—though it was usually Snape doing the questioning.
Over time, Snape even developed a few new spells of his own.
Jack's classes remained wildly popular. Every lesson drew the full roster of professors, even though he hadn't taught any new combat magic in ages.
Magicians from all over the wizarding world came to Hogwarts hoping to meet him. Most were turned away.
Only a select few were allowed to audit his combat-magic sessions.
The rest never glimpsed the young mage who had become a sensation across the magical world.
A few hot-tempered wizards wanted to drag him out and challenge him, but with Dumbledore on the premises, no one dared act rashly.
And so, the days rolled on—until the eve of Halloween arrived.
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