Leon opened his eyes.
In the dead of night, the dormitory was filled with only the soft sound of breathing.
Moonlight slipped through a gap in the bed curtains, casting a narrow beam of light.
Leon pulled the curtains aside, letting the moonlight flood in.
He pressed the gem on his ring, and with a soft click, nothing popped out.
It was empty now.
But, hiss hiss, the most dangerous place is the safest place.
Leon had secured the Horcrux diary inside the ring he used to store snacks.
No matter how persuasive Tom Riddle was, he couldn't charm a pile of chocolates.
The black-covered diary flew out, landing quietly in the moonlight, its deep color unsettling.
In Leon's senses, it still smelled sweet and tempting, almost appetizing.
Even though he'd eaten a full dinner, he felt an intense hunger.
Tom Riddle's diary, the Dark Lord's first Horcrux, held a fragment of sixteen-year-old Voldemort's soul.
Did it unintentionally give off this enticing aroma?
If it smelled this good and got swallowed, would it… die?
Would it?
What would happen if Leon couldn't resist the temptation and consumed another piece of Voldemort's soul?
Was Voldemort trying to take over, using Leon's body to be reborn?
Or was this just one of Tom Riddle's little tricks to seize power?
Leon stared at the diary, his mind racing through a thousand possibilities, but he didn't make a move to open it.
This was the first time since getting the diary that he'd examined it closely.
Before, he'd thought the strange scent was too odd and set it aside.
Now, that seemed like a wise decision.
Leon magically levitated the diary back into the ring, hissing to seal the gem shut.
Time to start tonight's nighttime adventure.
He cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself and slipped out of the dormitory.
He made his way through the common room, past the Fat Lady guarding the entrance, and left Gryffindor Tower.
As he walked, he tried to recall where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was.
Third floor? Or was it the second?
Either way, it was in the girls' bathroom, the one Moaning Myrtle haunted, at a broken faucet.
Leon left the Fat Lady's corridor and headed down from the eighth floor.
Hogwarts at night wasn't completely silent.
Whispers and rustling came from the portraits on the walls, whether or not anyone was inside the frames.
Occasionally, he passed a rusty suit of armor in the corridor.
It almost seemed like something alive was inside them.
As he walked by, he could hear faint metallic clinks.
Being his first night exploration, Leon hadn't thought about lighting.
Next time he visited Diagon Alley, he could pick up a Hand of Glory from Borgin and Burkes—a dark artifact that only lit up for its holder.
For now, he had to make do with dim moonlight and the occasional torch on the walls, moving slowly.
But lighting wasn't the only thing Leon had overlooked.
The biggest obstacle to his nighttime wandering had completely slipped his mind.
"Wait a second."
Something felt off the further he went.
He spotted what looked like the giant tapestry of a troll clubbing Barnabas the Barmy.
And opposite that famous tapestry was the blank wall hiding the Room of Requirement—on the eighth floor.
He'd been walking downward from the eighth floor for over ten minutes… and somehow ended up back on the eighth floor?
Had he just been circling the same floor this whole time?
…
People with a bad sense of direction always have an uncanny confidence in navigation.
Leon was already plenty confident.
When it came to finding his way, he'd made mistake after mistake but never admitted it, never learned, and certainly never fixed it.
The most he'd concede was that, to avoid crashing and burning on his first night out, he needed to find a knowledgeable, communicative creature to ask for directions.
His eyes landed on the nearest portrait.
Its occupant had apparently wandered off somewhere in the middle of the night, leaving behind an empty pastoral scene and an ornate frame.
Leon kept moving in what he thought was the direction of the stairs, searching for a suitable guide.
Then he heard a strange noise.
"Hee hee hee hee hee…"
Following the sound, Leon spotted a small figure floating midair.
It was Peeves, Hogwarts' mischievous poltergeist.
He wore a bell-covered jester's hat, an orange bow tie, and had black hair, black eyes, and a wide, wicked grin splitting his broad face.
Peeves was hovering above the staircase connecting the seventh and eighth floors.
He was busily loosening the carpet on every step, setting a trap for Gryffindor students rushing to early classes tomorrow.
By the time Leon approached, Peeves had finished his masterpiece.
Floating at the top of the eighth-floor staircase, he admired his work with satisfaction.
Unlike other ghosts, Peeves had a wide range of abilities and surprising strength—many professors couldn't even handle him.
As Leon hesitated, wondering whether to bypass the tampered staircase Peeves had so helpfully pointed out, the poltergeist noticed him.
"Who's there?"
Peeves squinted, peering at Leon's spot.
The Disillusionment Charm kept Leon invisible to the naked eye.
But Peeves was certain someone was there.
"Which sneaky pest is hiding? A ghost? A ghoul? Or some student who can't sleep?"
He did a somersault in midair, shot upward, then dove straight at Leon.
Leon dodged with practiced ease, his right hand snapping out.
He grabbed Peeves by his short neck with precision.
"Urk… urk… Baron?" Peeves' usually gleeful face twisted in panic.
"Lord Baron! Is that you? Please forgive little Peeves' accidental offense! You…"
"*Silencio!*"
Leon handled Peeves the same way he'd dealt with Tom—worked like a charm so far.
But the weight difference was stark. Leon shook Peeves up and down.
He hadn't expected Peeves, despite being tangible, to be as light as a ghost, practically weightless.
"Tell me how to get downstairs. Better yet, lead the way."
Leon stepped onto the carpet Peeves had just sabotaged.
Hearing Leon's voice, Peeves realized it wasn't the Bloody Baron and lost his fear.
But he couldn't figure out why he was suddenly mute and immobile, at the mercy of this stranger.
Furious, Peeves glared with venomous eyes, waiting for Leon to trip and fall flat.
This staircase trap was a brilliant idea he'd cooked up over days.
After all his careful work, it should…
Wait! Why wasn't this invisible guy falling?
Did being invisible mean you didn't need to use your feet to walk?
That didn't add up!
Leon didn't notice Peeves' mental rollercoaster.
He was just walking down the stairs, feeling Peeves squirm a bit too much and considering knocking him out.
No, that wouldn't do—his guide couldn't go offline.
Leon rummaged through his locket, digging around.
He pulled out a magical sealing bottle, a rare item used to trap spirits.
He stuffed Peeves inside—it was a perfect fit.
Lifting the Silencing Charm, Leon watched as Peeves, crammed in so tightly his feet were practically in his eyes, distorted his face.
Peeves banged against the bottle, cursing in a muffled voice.
"You rotten little student! Sneaking around in the middle of the night, ambushing the great Peeves when I'm not looking! No honor!"
Bang bang.
"I'll get Filch to come! He loves catching night wanderers—he'll string you up and whip you!"
In the short time, Leon couldn't pull a map of Hogwarts from Peeves' mind.
Instead, he got a flood of prank ideas.
So he asked directly, "How do I get to the third-floor girls' bathroom?"
Peeves stopped banging, stunned.
His one squished eye clearly conveyed a single thought:
"Didn't peg you for that kind of creep!"
Leon, reading it loud and clear, laughed.
"The girls' bathroom in the middle of the night? No one's there except a ghost."
Then, with a wicked grin, he added, "Oh, I get it. You, Peeves, have a crush on Moaning Myrtle and don't want anyone disturbing her…
"Guess I'll go tell her the good news!
"Peeves is in love with Moaning Myrtle!"
Peeves panicked.
"How dare you tarnish my name! You little brat, you're the one with a crush on Myrtle! Your whole family's got a crush on Myrtle!"
Leon dug at his ear. "So, how do I get to Myrtle's bathroom?"
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