[Third person POV]
Arthur and his group of friends lounged comfortably in the warm, ever-cozy confines of the Room of Requirement. Outside, November's chill had claimed the castle grounds; the windows were frosted at the corners, and a pale gray light filtered in from the overcast sky.
On the plush carpeted floor, Sylvia had decided that Cosmo was her personal playmate for the afternoon. She pounced on him with a delighted squeal, the two of them rolling and tumbling across the floor. Cosmo gave a sharp warning hiss, followed by an indignant meow that clearly translated to "Get off me, you menace!" But Sylvia, either unable or unwilling to understand, puffed out her cheeks and attempted to mimic the hiss. The sound she produced was more of a playful raspberry than anything remotely feline.
Cosmo froze mid-escape, staring at her with a flat, unamused expression. Sylvia, however, grinned proudly, chest puffed out as if she'd just matched him note for note. The others barely spared the scene more than a few glances—Cosmo's constant battle for personal space was a daily occurrence by now.
Around them, the rest of the group had their books, parchments, and quills spread out on tables and desks, the Room of Requirement providing them with a perfect study haven. Unlike the library, they didn't have to worry about Madam Pince swooping down on them for breathing too loudly. Here, they could work, chat, and even laugh without risk of being shushed into silence.
Arthur sat with his elbows on the table, grimoire open, carefully sketching the intricate lines of a new magic circle. The pages around him were already filled with arcane diagrams and notes in tight, precise handwriting. Across from him, Merlin was deep in her own studies, muttering under her breath as she adjusted the symbols on her own spellwork draft.
It took a moment before they noticed someone was missing.
"Where's Harry, anyway?" Gwyneth asked, lifting her head from the potion essay she'd been scowling at for the last half hour.
Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "He forgot his book in the dorm—Quidditch Through the Ages. And since the official Quidditch season starts tomorrow, he's been talking about nothing else."
Lance glanced at Arthur. "You're not as excited? I thought you loved Quidditch."
Arthur didn't even look up from his grimoire. "I'm a substitute, remember? The only way I'd get to play is if something really bad happens. And I'd rather not wish for that."
Before Lance could reply, the door burst open with a bang.
"Guys!" Harry's voice rang out, high with urgency. He came rushing in, clutching his book tightly against his chest as if he'd just fought off a dragon for it.
All eyes turned toward him, curious. He skidded to a stop in the center of the room, looking both breathless and slightly shaken. "You guys will not believe what I just saw!"
Arthur, still not looking up, waved a lazy hand. "I'm not focused enough to make a witty comeback right now. Mel, take it away."
Harry blinked in confusion at the exchange, and Merlin smirked faintly. "All I'm thinking of are inappropriate comebacks," she admitted, then leaned forward. "So? What is it? What happened?"
Harry hesitated, looking between them as if debating whether they'd take him seriously. "Ugh, okay—so, you guys weren't there, but in one of the rooms, there's this big three-headed dog."
"Big?" Ron interjected, his face pale but animated. "Ginormous more like. Like, it could swallow a person whole in one bite." He threw his arms high above his head to illustrate just how enormous it had seemed.
"Oh, you're talking about Fluffy," Gwyneth said casually, nodding.
Harry blinked. "Wait—what?"
"You mean the Cerberus that belongs to the groundskeeper… what was his name again?" Lance asked, tilting his head.
"Hagrid," Merlin supplied without missing a beat.
"Yeah, him," Lance said, snapping his fingers.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at them like they'd all grown extra heads themselves. "WHAT?!" they exclaimed in unison.
"What do you mean 'Fluffy'?!" Hermione demanded.
Gwyneth looked around at the others in confusion. "That was his name, wasn't it? Fluffy?"
The rest of Arthur's group nodded in agreement, which only deepened the Golden Trio's disbelief.
But Harry's attention had shifted to something else entirely. "What do you mean it belongs to Hagrid?"
Lance shrugged as if it were obvious. "It's on the collar. Giant letters. Said the dog's name, who it belongs to, and even how to get in contact with him if it got lost."
The Golden Trio stared at them with their mouths hanging open, as if trying to process the absurdity of what they'd just heard. Ron swallowed hard before asking in a voice that wavered between disbelief and awe,
"You mean to say… you guys actually stayed there… long enough to read its collar?"
"Yeah?" Gwyneth replied, tilting her head in genuine confusion, as though Ron had just asked if water was wet.
Harry's eyebrows shot up. "It didn't try to eat you?"
"What? Eat us?" Gwyneth scoffed and waved a dismissive hand, a grin tugging at her lips. "That loveable thing? No way. Although—" she let out a mischievous snicker, "—maybe it tried to eat Arthur. All three heads wouldn't stop licking him."
That was enough to send Lance and Merlin into muffled snickers. Arthur, meanwhile, scratched his cheek and avoided eye contact, the tips of his ears beginning to pinken.
"I have… so many questions…" Hermione muttered under her breath, shaking her head slowly.
"Save them for later," Gwyneth said, shifting her focus back to Harry with renewed interest. "Right now, I want to hear what you have to say about Fluffy."
Harry blinked, as if only now remembering why he'd been in such a rush in the first place. "Right! If you already know about Fluffy, then you must also know about the trapdoor it's guarding, right?"
They nodded casually, and Harry leaned in, his voice dropping to a more urgent tone. "I just saw Professor Snape coming out of Fluffy's room. One of his legs was bleeding—had clear bite marks on it. And he was muttering to himself about a 'mutt' and how difficult it was to get past. Snape's trying to get whatever it's guarding!"
Arthur finally looked up, one eyebrow raised. "How are you still alive?"
That earned him a chorus of baffled looks. "What?" Harry asked taken aback by the question.
Arthur gave a short scoff. "Snape hates your guts. If he'd seen you watching him leave that room, I'm pretty sure he'd have made sure you didn't get the chance to talk about it."
Ron nodded grimly. "Yeah, mate. It's only been two months since term started and it's obvious he has it out for you."
Harry grimaced. "I was turning the corner when I saw him. Hid back straight away so he wouldn't notice me."
Hermione turned to Gwyneth and the rest. "Did you guys manage to see what Fluffy's guarding?"
Lance shook his head. "Not exactly. We figured if a three-headed dog is standing watch, whatever it's guarding must be dangerous enough to warrant it, so we didn't dare."
"Not to mention," Gwyneth said with a sly smirk, "we were a bit distracted by Arthur's barking."
Harry blinked. "Excuse me… what?"
Everyone turned to Arthur. He immediately raised his grimoire like a shield, hiding all but the telltale flush creeping up his ears. "I wasn't barking…" he mumbled.
Merlin was already doubled over, laughter spilling out . Gwyneth covered her mouth with her hand, trying—and failing—to keep her giggling in check as she explained between breaths, "Arthur… was talking to Fluffy. Like, full-blown conversation. Back and forth. It was as if they understood each other. And then—out of nowhere—he just starts barking at it as if he was mad"
That image alone was enough to push Lance over the edge. He squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lip hard, his cheeks flushing red as he tried not to explode into laughter. Gwyneth, however, gave up entirely and added with a wicked grin, "Honestly, I couldn't tell who was the real dog—Arthur or Fluffy."
That did it. Merlin, Lance, and Gwyneth collapsed into a full fit of laughter—rolling across beanbags, clutching their stomachs, slapping their thighs, and gasping for breath between giggles.
The trio, meanwhile, just stared at Arthur in a mixture of confusion and disbelief.
Arthur, face buried in his grimoire now, muttered so quietly it was almost lost under their laughter, "I was… curious if I could speak dog. And if it would understand me… It was a science experiment"
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