Chapter 182 – Harry's Crazy Idea
The best thing about being in Ravenclaw was simple:
no matter what question you asked, someone was always ready with an answer.
All you had to do was scribble your question on the enchanted blackboard in the common room, or say it aloud in the lounge, and within minutes some sharp‑eyed Ravenclaw would not only reply but even cite the exact book where you could find the answer.
But today, Harry didn't want to go back to the tower.
The Great Hall was packed with students, many still buzzing over the ridiculous tale Ron had told a few days ago.
And in the back of Harry's mind, two things gnawed at him: Dumbledore's unsettling, secretive behavior… and his own growing worry that Alexander Smith might leave Hogwarts with the Philosopher's Stone.
I need something else to think about, Harry told himself.
That was why he latched onto a much simpler mystery: Why were those American wizards able to work for days without sleep?
He'd first guessed some kind of Refreshing Draught, but that potion never worked so perfectly.
The pictures in the Daily Prophet showed those American officials looking bright‑eyed, sharp, and wide awake. One was even braiding his hair out of boredom, not fatigue.
Snape would know, Harry thought.
But it wasn't so simple.
For reasons he couldn't quite name, Professor Snape treated Harry like his most promising pupil in class—always watching him with that unreadable gaze—but outside of class, they rarely spoke.
And Harry still felt awkward approaching someone who had once been his mother's close friend.
Draco, as a Slytherin, wasn't about to go running to his Head of House either. And Ron… well, Ron was Ron.
"Let's just head back to the common room," Ron suggested, tugging at Harry's sleeve as they left the Great Hall. "I'm sure someone in Ravenclaw knows. Look at Susan—she's a Hufflepuff and knows more than Percy about taxes!"
"Hagrid!" Harry suddenly blurted out, his green eyes lighting up. "Let's ask an adult wizard! He might know!"
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Hagrid? Potions?"
It wasn't that Draco didn't respect Hagrid—after all, the man had helped them in the Forbidden Forest—but he just couldn't picture the gamekeeper giving a detailed explanation of complex magical concoctions.
Still, Hagrid was an adult, and he might have overheard something.
"And we can ask what he told Dumbledore about last night," Harry added quickly.
"Yes!" Draco agreed, seizing on that. "Even if he doesn't know about potions, he might know something about that unicorn and the black‑robed wizard."
Ron frowned as they started down the path to Hagrid's hut. "If you ask me, I still think it's Quirrell. He was a Ravenclaw, after all—makes sense he'd know strange spells. Maybe he figured out some hidden weakness of unicorns."
Harry clenched his fists. "You're probably right, Ron. And the back of Quirrell's head—what if Voldemort really is there?"
They walked in silence for a moment, crunching through the grass, until Harry suddenly whispered, almost to himself, "This morning, I found a note on my Invisibility Cloak. Folded perfectly. It said: Just in case. In Dumbledore's handwriting."
Draco stopped in his tracks. "Wait—what?"
"That wizard is dangerous. Why would Dumbledore leave that message for me?" Harry went on, voice low and urgent. "I'm not bragging, but maybe I really do have the magic to fight Voldemort. I survived him as a baby—and now I'm a wizard."
Ron's face drained of color. "Harry, you're mad! That thing on the back of Quirrell's head was just a story I made up yesterday!"
"Yes, Harry," Draco added quickly. "That note might be telling you to warn Professor McGonagall or Snape if things get dangerous. Not… whatever you're thinking."
"But don't you see?" Harry insisted, eyes blazing. "When the school year started, my scar hurt. I thought it was Snape, but now I know—it was Voldemort. He's the only one who makes it hurt. And in our first Defense classes, something inside me—something that wasn't ordinary magic—reacted to Quirrell. Ron, you were right. Voldemort is on the back of Quirrell's head."
Ron and Draco exchanged worried looks as they approached Hagrid's hut.
This time, Fang was already inside. Before Harry could knock, the huge boarhound bounded out, tail wagging furiously.
Harry and Draco immediately sidestepped, but Ron wasn't fast enough—within seconds his robes were soaked in slobber.
"Kids! You're all right?" Hagrid's booming voice cut through the air as he stepped out of the hut, concern written on his face. "Last night was dangerous enough. I can't believe Professor Dumbledore—"
"So it was Dumbledore who arranged it!" Harry blurted out, eyes wide.
Hagrid frowned but didn't answer. Draco quickly spoke up before Harry could push further.
"Hagrid, we wanted to ask… is there anything that can keep wizards awake for days?"
"Ohhh, you saw the Daily Prophet, didn't you?" Hagrid chuckled, scratching his beard. "A lot of strange creatures been turning up in Diagon Alley lately. But I reckon none of you ever heard of this one."
"Doesn't sound like a potion?" Ron asked, still distracted by his dripping robes.
"Nope," Hagrid said proudly. "It's got to do with the Horned Serpent-Beast. Head like a frog, horns, fangs, bright red eyes… body shaped like a big dog. Lives mostly in Wisconsin, over in North America."
He gestured excitedly as he explained.
"It feeds on Moon‑Calves gone mad under certain lunar cycles—folk over there call 'em Moon‑Crazy Beasts. Now, if you grind up a Horned Beast's horn into powder and take it, you won't be affected by alcohol and you can stay awake for seven whole days and nights. No side effects, neither! That's why American wizards can work overtime like that."
"Moon‑Crazy Beasts?!" Ron yelped. "They… they don't… eat people, do they?"
Hagrid laughed. "Don't worry. Horned Beasts just like eatin' Moon‑Crazies. They don't have to."
Draco frowned. "What exactly is a Moon‑Crazy Beast?"
Ron, to everyone's surprise, answered: "It's a harmless magical creature—kind of cute, actually. Comes out of its cave only on full moons and dances in the moonlight."
Harry didn't answer. His mind was elsewhere again, racing back to that folded cloak, that note.
As they left Hagrid's hut, he stopped dead on the path, eyes blazing.
"Aha! Did you hear him? Dumbledore arranged that detention on purpose! He wants me to face Voldemort and save the unicorn!"
"You're completely mad, Harry!" Ron groaned, wiping slobber off his sleeves.
"With Dumbledore here, don't even think about it," Draco added sharply.
Harry just stared off toward the castle, his mind already spiraling back to dangerous thoughts.
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(End of Chapter 182)
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