The successful and trouble-free resolution of the dragon incident created a period of calm academic focus. The group, now working as a cohesive and logical unit, excelled. Their combined study sessions became legendary within Gryffindor Tower, a powerhouse of intellect and practical application. But the tranquility of Hogwarts was a thin veneer over a dark, festering secret, and it was only a matter of time before that secret broke the surface.
The catalyst, as it so often was, was Malfoy. Goaded by Malfoy's relentless taunts about his family, Ron finally snapped, and a messy, undignified fistfight broke out in the corridor between classes. Harry, attempting to break it up, was inevitably dragged into the fray. The result was predictable: all three boys were hauled before Professor McGonagall, who looked as though her patience had been worn down to a single, frayed thread.
"Fighting! In the corridors! Are you three determined to single-handedly beggar Gryffindor House of every last point?" she had thundered, her voice echoing with fury. "Detention! All of you! Tonight. You will meet Mr. Filch at the Entrance Hall."
When Harry and Ron returned to the common room late that night, they were pale and shaken. Their detention, overseen by Hagrid, had not been polishing trophies. It had been a terrifying trek into the Forbidden Forest.
"We saw something… awful," Harry whispered, his voice trembling as he recounted the story to Ariana and Hermione, who had waited up for them. "A unicorn. It was dead. Something had… attacked it. Drank its blood."
Hagrid had explained that this was the second one in a week. Something was stalking and killing the purest creatures in the forest. A cloaked figure had appeared, a shadowy, slithering presence that had sent even the brave centaurs into a panic. Harry's scar had seared with a pain so intense it had buckled his knees.
Ariana listened to the account, her face a mask of calm, analytical concentration. The pieces were falling into place with grim certainty. A being sustained by unicorn blood. An entity that caused Harry's scar to burn. It could only be one thing: Voldemort, in a parasitic, weakened form, desperate for life. And the Philosopher's Stone was the ultimate prize, the key to his full return.
The next few days were tense. The knowledge of what was lurking in the forest cast a pall over the castle. Harry, haunted by what he had seen, became obsessed. He connected the dots: Snape's desire for the Stone, the injured leg from his encounter with Fluffy, and the dark presence in the forest. His conclusion was simple and, from his perspective, inescapable: Snape was trying to steal the Stone for Voldemort.
His resolve hardened when he confronted Hagrid, pressing him about the dragon egg.
The guiltridden giant confessed that the stranger in the pub who'd given him the egg had been a cloaked, hooded figure who had cleverly plied him with drink and asked him how to handle magical beasts.
Hagrid, in his cups, had admitted that the trick to calming any beast, even Fluffy, was a bit of music. The final, critical piece of information had been given away. That evening, a frantic owl from the Ministry of Magic arrived for Dumbledore in the Great Hall. It
was an urgent summons to London. Harry watched the Headmaster leave, a cold dread settling in his stomach. Dumbledore was gone. The path to the Stone was clear.
"He's going to do it tonight," Harry said, his voice grim as he, Ron, and Hermione huddled in the common room. "Snape. He knows how to get past Fluffy. Dumbledore's gone. He's going to steal the Stone. We have to stop him."
Ron nodded eagerly, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and excitement. "We have to go down there!"
Hermione looked terrified but resolute. She had been through the troll incident. She would not abandon her friends now, no matter how much rule-breaking was involved.
"I'm with you," she said, her voice shaking slightly.
All three of them then turned to Ariana, who had been listening to Harry's frantic declaration with her usual unnerving stillness. They expected her to argue, to point out the flaws in their plan, to tell them they were being illogical.
Instead, she gave a single, decisive nod.
"I agree," she said.
The three of them stared at her, stunned. Harry felt a surge of relief and gratitude so powerful it almost made him dizzy. "You'll… you'll come with us?"
"Yes," Ariana confirmed. "The available data strongly suggests an imminent attempt to procure the Philosopher's Stone. The potential consequences of that procurement are catastrophic. Intervention is not just logical; it is a moral imperative."
Ron let out a whoop of triumph. "Brilliant! With your spells, Snape won't stand a chance!"
"However," Ariana continued, holding up a single, elegant finger, silencing Ron instantly. Her gaze was firm, her voice leaving no room for argument. "My participation is contingent upon one non negotiable condition. We will not be undertaking this mission alone."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, confused. "Who else would we get?"
"We are not a formal law enforcement body," Ariana stated, as if explaining a simple fact to a group of toddlers. "We are four first-year students. To engage a powerful, adult wizard who may be in league with Lord Voldemort is a tactical absurdity. We do not have the training, the authority, or the magical repertoire to guarantee a successful outcome. Therefore, we will follow the correct protocol."
"Protocol?" Ron echoed blankly.
"Yes. We will report our intelligence regarding an imminent, high-level security breach directly to the ranking authority figure currently present in the castle," Ariana said. Her eyes were like chips of ice. "We are going to tell Professor McGonagall."
A horrified silence fell over the small group.
"Tell McGonagall?" Harry gasped. "No way! She'll stop us! She'll tell us we're being ridiculous, that Snape is a professor, that we should go to bed! She'll never believe us!"
"She will not have a choice," Ariana said, a steely confidence in her voice. "Because I will not be asking for her permission. I will be informing her of our intent. I will present the evidence: the creature in the forest, the sustained use of unicorn blood, the timing of Dumbledore's departure, and Hagrid's compromised intelligence. And I will state that, given the catastrophic risk, we feel compelled to act. And then, I will state my condition."
She stood up, her posture radiating an authority far beyond her years. "I will tell her that I am willing to accompany you three to the third-floor corridor to prevent the theft. But only if she, as the Deputy Headmistress and a master of Transfiguration, comes with us."
The sheer audacity of the plan was breathtaking. They weren't asking for help. They weren't tattling. They were, in essence, requisitioning their Head of House to provide tactical support for their mission.
"She'll… she'll never agree to that!" Ron stammered.
"Oh, she will," Ariana said, a faint, knowing smile on her lips. "She will be faced with two choices. One: she can forbid us from going, in which case she knows you three will almost certainly disobey her and go anyway, resulting in your probable deaths. Or two: she can accept the situation, bend the rules, and accompany us, ensuring our safety and lending her formidable power to the effort."
She looked at Harry, her gaze unwavering. "Professor McGonagall is a pragmatist, and she is a Gryffindor. She will not stand by and allow her students to walk into mortal danger unsupported. She will complain. She will threaten us with a lifetime of detention. And then, she will come with us."
The plan was terrifying. It was brilliant. It was so utterly, logically sound that it felt unbreakable. It subverted the entire paradigm of the "children sneaking out to be heroes" narrative. It replaced reckless, impulsive bravery with calculated, responsible courage.
"So," Ariana concluded, her voice calm and final. "That is the plan. We go to McGonagall's office now. We present our case. And we go down to the third floor with a proper escort. Are we in agreement?"
Harry looked at Ron, then at Hermione, and then back at Ariana. This was a new kind of heroism, one he had never considered. It wasn't about breaking the rules; it was about leveraging them, about forcing the system to work for you. It was about being smart as well as brave.
"Yes," Harry said, a new, firm resolve in his voice. "We're in agreement."