Chapter 184: Confirmation
The fourth floor of Hogwarts was a restricted area. Ever since Hagrid suggested to Dumbledore that the area needed tighter management to prevent curious students—especially Harry and his friends—from sneaking in, Filch had begun patrolling more frequently.
By the end of the Easter break, most students had completed their homework. Harry and his classmates had only just finished theirs today because Ron had dragged them off to "have fun" during the early part of the holiday. As a result, nearly everyone had spent the past few days cramming in the library.
But now, with sunny skies and warm air returning, the castle felt emptier. Most students were outside, enjoying the spring weather.
Harry crouched in the shadows on the fifth floor, glancing anxiously toward the staircase leading down to the fourth.
"Harry, just forget it. It was only a dream," Ron whispered from behind.
"If you insist on going... at least be prepared," Draco added, also lurking nearby.
Harry didn't reply. Instead, he pulled out the flute Hagrid had given him for Christmas—the same one he'd used in the Forbidden Forest. He'd carried it with him ever since.
"Harry! You're not seriously thinking of breaking into the restricted area, are you?" Ron hissed.
"I'm telling you, your dream was probably just a stress-induced hallucination," Draco said. "It's not worth it."
"Relax," Harry said, turning to them. "I just want to look. I'll leave as soon as I confirm what Fluffy looks like."
Before they could respond, someone grabbed Harry by the neck from behind. He nearly drew his wand in reflex, but then a familiar voice broke the tension.
"Well, well, who do we have here?"
"Isn't it our dear little brother, the Phoenix Guardian, and the other bad boy of Slytherin?" said Fred, smirking.
"Oh, come on!" Ron groaned, face red. "Can you two stop calling me that?"
"I have a name," Draco muttered grumpily. With his pale blond hair and sulky expression, he looked a bit like a discontent lemon.
"You're going to the restricted area, aren't you?" George said, grinning.
"Why didn't you invite us?" Fred added. "That's the kind of thing we live for."
"This isn't a prank!" Ron protested. "We're doing something serious."
"Alright, alright," Fred said, still smirking. "Is there any serious help you'd like from us?"
"Can you distract Filch?" Harry asked quickly.
"Who could say no to the owner of a genuine Weasley sweater?"
"If Mum found out we didn't help you, she'd be furious," George added.
Before Harry could even thank them, the twins vanished silently into the corridors like professional mischief-makers.
"I am their brother," Ron muttered. "Asked them for a gift at Christmas—nothing."
With Fred and George gone, Harry turned back to the fourth-floor corridor, eyes sharp.
"Maybe we should grab the Invisibility Cloak from the common room," Ron suggested. "It'd be a lot easier."
"If you'd said that earlier, I—" Harry began, but suddenly stopped mid-sentence.
He held his breath. It was the kind of stillness that comes in a moment of danger—when everything slows down and breathing becomes optional.
"Disgusting! Hissing slugs... frog brains... rat intestines... I've had enough..." Filch's muttering drifted toward them. "Have to kill a chicken to scare the monkeys... during Easter..."
Then, just as suddenly, his grumbling voice faded as he turned down another corridor.
"Now!" Harry hissed.
Thanks—perhaps—to some unknown prank from the twins, the area was deserted. They reached the fourth-floor corridor in seconds.
At the far end stood the familiar chained wooden door.
"Why don't we just peek through the crack?" Ron offered, clearly second-guessing his involvement.
"This is the restricted area," Draco said, staring at the door. "The Philosopher's Stone is in there. That lock…"
"Alohomora," Harry whispered, tapping the lock with his wand.
"…Nothing." Draco looked stunned. "I guess the professors figured all the enchantments were enough. No need to make the door unopenable too."
Harry took a deep breath and slowly opened the door.
He took one glance—then slammed it shut.
Inside, an earsplitting roar shook the air. Without another word, Harry bolted.
Ron and Draco saw him running and immediately followed.
"Harry—why—don't you—want to see Fluffy?" Ron gasped between breaths.
"I did see him," Harry replied, pale and shaken. "That thing is massive."
"What do you mean?" Draco asked.
"Norberta is a baby dragon. But Fluffy… Hagrid wasn't exaggerating. Fluffy's the size of a troll—or bigger."
"What's that got to do with Norberta?" Ron asked, confused.
Draco rolled his eyes. "It means Norberta is tiny in comparison. Use your brain, Weasley."
"Yeah," Harry added. "Fluffy was so big, he filled the whole room—from ceiling to floor. I don't even know how he got in there. What does he eat? Where does he go to the bathroom?"
"I didn't see a bathroom either," Ron muttered.
"Maybe house-elves take care of it," Draco said offhandedly.
"House-elves?" Harry blinked.
"They're magical creatures," Ron explained quickly. "Like goblins, but they're bound to wizard families. Basically, they're servants—or slaves, really. Can't refuse orders from their masters unless freed."
"My mum always wanted one. Says it'd help with chores."
Harry's expression darkened. "There are slaves in the wizarding world?"
"They're magical beings," Draco said carefully. "Without a master, they feel worse than death. The Ministry even has a department that regulates their treatment—though I wouldn't say it's well enforced."
He left out the fact that families like the Malfoys frequently mistreated their house-elves. If he said too much, Harry might distance himself.
"Anyway," Draco quickly changed the subject, "Was Fluffy the same as in your dream?"
"Exactly the same," Harry said softly.
That could only mean one thing.
Someone else—besides Quirrell and Voldemort—was targeting the Philosopher's Stone.
Someone powerful enough to put Fluffy to sleep with a single command.
Even Voldemort hadn't done that.
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(End of Chapter)
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