The four of them slipped out of the common room without a sound and began heading toward the trophy room.
To avoid being caught by Filch, they activated their cloaks as soon as they were outside, turning themselves invisible to the eye. In the daytime you might have noticed a faint distortion in the air, but under night's darkness they were impossible to see unless someone came right up close.
They moved swiftly along the corridor. Moonlight poured through the high windows, casting bars of light across the floor. At every corner they paused, wary of Filch lurking. But luck held—no sign of him. They climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, creeping toward the trophy room.
Inside, glass cabinets glimmered under the moonlight. Trophies, shields, medals, and statues all shone with silver and gold.
Using the faint light, they scanned the room. No Draco, no Crabbe. At Harry's gesture they pressed against the wall to wait. Harry's wand was tight in his hand, nerves on edge for a sneak attack. Loren leaned back casually. He knew the original story—Draco never came, choosing instead to fetch Filch. Chances were tonight would be no different.
The clock ticked on. Midnight.
"He's late. Maybe he's too scared to show," Ron whispered.
Then a sound came from the next room. Harry nearly jumped, ready to act—until voices came. Not Draco's.
"Sniff around, my precious. They might be hiding somewhere."
Filch was talking to Mrs. Norris. Harry and Ron froze, fear rushing back, until they remembered the cloaks hid them.
Loren, already tugging Hermione toward the far door, hissed, "Move. Cloaks hide sight, not smell. She'll find us."
Harry didn't wait—he dragged Ron toward the opposite exit. Loren and Hermione were already through.
As they slipped out, Filch's voice carried: "They're in here somewhere, hiding."
Harry and Ron crept down a corridor lined with suits of armor, nearly shaking. Filch's footsteps came closer. Hermione wanted to urge them on—they wore silent shoes, after all—but Loren stopped her. Let them run at their own pace. He wanted to see if events bent back toward the original path.
Then Ron stumbled. His whole body crashed against a suit of armor, metal clanging loud enough to wake the castle.
Harry yanked him upright, then bolted. Loren pulled Hermione along after them.
But Loren noticed—the armor had shifted deliberately, tripping Ron. Not accident—like the castle itself was nudging them. He wondered if Peeves would appear, same as in the books.
Harry led them at a frantic run, twisting past pillars and corridors, until they slowed near the Charms classroom. Loren quietly activated a device of his own making, designed specifically to mask him from Peeves' senses.
Sure enough, the round doorknob rattled, and out shot Peeves.
Harry and Ron froze. Loren and Hermione stopped behind.
Peeves hovered, eyes flicking about, muttering, "I smell little brats somewhere…"
He floated right above Ron's head, sniffing. "Here, I know you're here…"
Harry edged forward—too much. Peeves spotted the distortion, shrieked:
"Students out of bed! Students out of bed, wandering the Charms corridor!"
Harry panicked, dragged Ron into a sprint. Loren and Hermione followed.
Now Peeves shouted louder, "There's four of them! Four of them!"
Loren, at the rear, abruptly dropped his cloaking. He met Peeves' eyes without expression, lifted a finger, and marked him with a spell. Then cloaked again.
Peeves froze mid-cackle, cut off as if strangled.
The group tore down the corridor until they crashed against a locked door.
"We're finished! We're dead!" Ron whimpered, rattling the handle.
"Alohomora!"
Hermione had had enough. With a flick, the lock clicked, the door swung, and Harry and Ron stumbled in. They nearly shut it on Hermione and Loren.
Inside, Harry and Ron pressed their ears to the door, straining to hear.
Outside, Filch's voice rang out, "Where did they go, Peeves? Tell me!"
Peeves, still shaken, refused to give them away. Instead, he teased Filch.
"Say 'please'."
"Don't play games, Peeves! Tell me now!"
"If you don't say 'please,' I don't know anything."
"Fine—please!"
"I don't know anything! Hahaha!" Peeves darted off. Filch's curses faded into the distance.
Harry and Ron turned, ready to whisper about sneaking back—then stopped dead.
A monstrous dog, big enough to fill floor to ceiling when standing, crouched before them. Three heads, three sets of jaws dripping saliva, eyes glinting. Its muzzles were pressed to the floor as though cowed.
And Loren and Hermione were right next to it, hands running over its fur.
Harry's stomach lurched—Dumbledore's warning at the feast, the forbidden corridor. So this was what it hid.
The dog had noticed them immediately, three pairs of eyes rolling, noses twitching, strings of drool hanging from yellow teeth.
Loren disliked dogs at the best of times, but this one, filthy and stinking, turned his stomach. Still, he stepped forward, letting a fraction of his aura leak.
The three-headed beast flinched, shrank low, and tried to threaten, but its bravado broke.
Then, in Loren's mind, the system spoke.
"Ding. World projection detected."
"Ding. Projection confirmed: Heroes of Might and Magic."
"Ding! Congratulations, host. Projection discovered. Accept world gift? Yes/No."
The sudden notice startled him. Years of searching in London had yielded only two projections. Barely a month in Hogwarts, and here was another.
Hell faction, tier-three upgraded unit: Cerberus. That's what this three-headed dog was.
He thought back—centaurs in the forest, Dumbledore's phoenix, unicorns, pegasi, thunderbirds—all mirrored in that world's bestiary.
Not the moment to check rewards. First, deal with the dog.
He strode closer. The beast backed until trapped in the corner, then collapsed to the ground, heads pressed flat, playing dead.
Loren wrinkled his nose. Filthy thing hadn't been washed in who knew how long. He cast several scouring charms, cleaning the matted fur, until it smelled bearable. Then, finally, he reached out.
Hermione, who had nearly blasted it a moment before, now blinked in surprise. The dog had gone completely submissive under Loren's hand. She joined him, smiling nervously as she reached out to stroke the massive beast.
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