Quirks in Wizarding World

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- Third-Floor Corridor, Hogwarts -

- September 7, 1991 – Night -

Ron strode ahead of the group, shoulders squared, chin up, acting as if he knew exactly where he was going. He had grown up in the magical world—he had heard stories about Hogwarts long before he set foot inside its halls. That made him mistakenly believe that he was more experienced than the others, more reliable in situations like these. Arthav might be talented, and Hermione might know more spells, but neither of them had the instinct for Hogwarts like he did. And Harry—well, he was famous, but that didn't mean he knew how things worked.

So Ron led them forward, barely glancing back to see if they were following.

The corridor stretched on, empty and dimly lit, the flickering torches casting long shadows on the stone walls. The group moved quickly, their footsteps hushed, until finally, Ron came to a stop.

A wooden door stood before them, marking the end of the hallway.

He blinked.

The wrong way.

The realization hit him a second later. His face flushed red, but before he could come up with an excuse, he heard the others catching up.

"Ron," Harry said, glancing around. "This isn't the right way."

Padma folded her arms. "I thought you knew where we were going."

Ron swallowed, glancing at Arthav, who was staring at him with an unreadable expression. Hermione looked seconds away from launching into a lecture. Fortunately, before anyone could start scolding him, a distant sound echoed through the corridor—footsteps.

And a voice.

Filch.

The old caretaker was getting closer. He must have heard something.

Panic surged through Ron. "We need to hide!" He grabbed the door handle and twisted. Locked.

"Move," Arthav muttered, stepping forward. But before he could do anything, Hermione was already pulling out her wand.

"Alohomora."

The lock clicked open instantly. Ron pushed the door open, and they all hurried inside, shutting it just as Filch's footsteps grew louder.

They stood in silence, breathing heavily, listening as Filch muttered to himself outside. The door rattled slightly, but he didn't push it open.

"Must be hearing things," he grumbled. A moment later, his footsteps retreated.

Ron let out a relieved sigh—then froze.

A deep, rumbling breath filled the room.

Slowly, they turned.

A massive, three-headed dog lay in the corner, its thick fur rising and falling as it slept. Its paws twitched slightly, but it remained still—for now.

Parvati's hand shot to her mouth. Padma looked like she wanted to scream.

Before any of them could make a sound, Arthav flicked his wand.

Silencio.

A wave of magic washed over them, muting any sound they might have made. A second later, another spell shimmered across their forms. Disillusionment.

Arthav turned to them, expression serious, and gestured for them to stay still. His heart pounded, not from fear of the dog—but from frustration.

He had known this would happen. Had read about it, watched it play out. But being here, experiencing it firsthand, was something else entirely. Seeing Ron rush ahead recklessly, seeing Harry follow without questioning him—it was one thing to know a story and another to live through the stupidity of it.

This wasn't a game.

This wasn't just some exciting adventure.

It was reckless. Dangerous. And if they weren't careful, it could get them killed.

As they stood there, waiting for Filch to leave completely, Arthav made a silent decision.

When this was over, he was going to make sure Ron and Harry understood just how close they had come to disaster.

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The moments stretched in silence, thick with tension. Arthav kept his gaze locked on the massive, sleeping form of the three-headed dog. He had no idea how long they had been standing there, barely daring to breathe. Every slow rise and fall of the beast's chests sent a wave of anxiety through the group.

Then, from outside, the faint sound of footsteps faded completely. Filch had finally moved on.

Arthav exhaled silently and gestured for them to leave. They moved as carefully as possible, each step deliberate. He could feel it—the dog stirring ever so slightly. It shifted, one of its heads twitching. He didn't need to be a Seer to know that if they lingered too long, they would have a much bigger problem than Filch.

They had almost reached the door when it happened.

Ron, moving too quickly, stumbled over his own foot and smacked into a nearby suit of armor. The clang echoed like a gong in the silent corridor.

Everyone froze.

The dog's eyes snapped open.

A low, guttural growl filled the room.

"Go—now!" Arthav hissed, his voice urgent but still magically silenced.

Panic set in. They threw themselves out the door as the dog lurched to its feet, its massive paws thudding against the stone floor. The moment they were through, Arthav yanked the door shut behind them, pressing his back against it just as the beast crashed against the other side.

They ran.

They didn't stop until they were deep within the castle, hidden in a quiet alcove far from the third-floor corridor. All of them were out of breath, their hearts pounding, their bodies still buzzing with the adrenaline of their escape.

Then, Arthav turned on Ron.

"What is wrong with you?" His voice was low but sharp, anger barely restrained.

Ron scowled. "Oh, come off it, it wasn't that bad."

"Not that bad?" Arthav repeated, disbelief flashing in his eyes. "You nearly got us killed, Weasley. You don't think before you act, and now you've put everyone in danger again."

Ron's face darkened. "Oh, sure, like you know everything! Just because you're talented doesn't mean you understand Hogwarts better than me!" His voice rose slightly. "You're just a—foreigner! What do you know about my world?"

Silence.

The words hung between them like a knife.

Arthav's jaw clenched. He had expected Ron's usual childishness, his stubbornness—but this? The sheer arrogance, the need to feel superior just because he had been born into the magical world of Britain?

Before he could say anything, Harry stepped between them. "Alright, enough!" His voice was urgent, trying to keep the peace. "We're not doing this here."

Hermione, Padma, and Parvati quickly moved to back him up.

"Ron, you were reckless," Hermione said, crossing her arms. "And Arthav's right. But this is not the time or place to argue about it!"

Padma shot Ron a look. "We all saw what happened, and if it weren't for Arthav, we'd probably be dead."

Parvati nodded in agreement. "But right now, we need to get back before someone finds us."

Ron's face turned even redder, whether from anger or embarrassment, it was hard to tell.

Then, without another word, he spun on his heel and bolted toward the Gryffindor dorms.

"Ron—!" Harry started to go after him, but Padma caught his arm. "Leave him," she said. "Let him cool off."

Harry hesitated, but he could see her point.

Arthav sighed, running a hand through his hair before pulling out his wand. Without another word, he cast Disillusionment on them again.

"Let's just get back," he muttered.

One by one, they moved quietly through the halls, each lost in their own thoughts. The tension lingered in the air, but for now, they had to focus on one thing—making it back to their dorms without getting caught.

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