Quirks in Wizarding World

________________________________________________________________________________

- Hogwarts Corridors -

- September 7, 1991 – Night -

Harry moved carefully, his footsteps muffled by the Disillusionment Charm as he, Hermione, and Parvati made their way through the darkened halls of Hogwarts. The cool air pressed against his skin, but it wasn't just the night chill that made him uneasy.

His heartbeat hadn't quite settled since their narrow escape from the third-floor corridor. The image of the massive three-headed dog loomed in his mind—its deep, growling breaths, the way its eyes snapped open, the sheer size of it. It hadn't been some magical curiosity in a book. It was real. And it could have torn them apart.

Beside him, Hermione walked with careful precision, her breath controlled but slightly uneven. She had been the most level-headed back there, casting Alohomora without hesitation, but even she had looked pale when they faced the beast. Parvati, on the other hand, was silent, her arms crossed tightly over herself. She hadn't said a word since they left the alcove where they had confronted Ron.

And then there was Arthav.

The way he had stepped up, taken control—saving them, again. Harry respected that. More than that, he was grateful. Arthav had been right about Ron's recklessness, but the way things had ended left a sour feeling in his chest. It was hard to shake the anger in Arthav's voice, the way Ron had thrown out that word—foreigner—like it was an insult.

Harry didn't like that.

He didn't think Ron had meant it in the worst way, but that didn't make it okay. Arthav had been protecting them, and Ron had acted like he was being challenged, like he had something to prove.

They finally reached the Fat Lady's portrait. Hermione whispered the password—"Caput Draconis"—and the frame swung open.

Stepping inside, the warmth of the Gryffindor common room did little to ease the weight pressing on Harry's mind. The fire was low, casting long shadows across the scarlet and gold furnishings. And there, sitting on one of the armchairs near the fire, was Ron.

He had somehow gotten back before them, likely by hiding and waiting for the right moment to slip away. His face was still flushed from the night's events, but when he saw them enter, a mixture of relief and frustration crossed his expression.

"You made it back," he muttered, his tone defensive.

Hermione's expression hardened. "Of course we did. And if it weren't for Arthav, we might not have."

Ron scowled, sitting up straighter. "Oh, come on, Hermione. We were fine. Yeah, the dog was big, but we got out, didn't we? And Arthav's acting like I'm some idiot who can't handle myself—"

"Because you didn't handle yourself," Hermione snapped. Her voice was quiet, but the sharpness in it made Ron flinch. "You ran ahead without thinking. You got us lost. You made noise when we were supposed to be silent. And then you insulted someone who was only looking out for us."

Parvati, who had been silent the whole time, finally spoke, her voice cold. "Arthav didn't have to help us, but he did. And you treated him like that?" She shook her head, barely sparing Ron another glance before turning toward the girls' dormitory. "Unbelievable."

Hermione gave Ron one last disapproving look before following Parvati upstairs, leaving him alone with Harry.

Ron huffed, crossing his arms. "They don't get it," he muttered.

Harry sat down across from him, feeling the weight of everything that had happened. "Get what?"

Ron looked frustrated, like he was struggling to find the right words. "That I was trying to help. Yeah, okay, I got us a little lost, but that doesn't mean I was wrong to lead! Who hasn't made mistakes? We were safe in the end, so what's the big deal?"

Harry frowned. "The big deal is that we almost weren't." His voice wasn't angry, but it was firm. "That thing could've killed us, Ron. And Arthav—he's right. You don't think before you act sometimes."

Ron opened his mouth to argue, but Harry kept going.

"And what you said to him? That was wrong."

Ron hesitated. His fingers curled against the armrest. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Maybe not," Harry said, watching him carefully. "But it still hurt him." He leaned forward slightly. "You should apologize."

Ron let out a short, bitter laugh. "You're taking his side?"

"I'm not taking sides," Harry said evenly. "I just think you should say sorry. Arthav's our friend too, and he was only looking out for us."

Ron didn't respond right away. His face flickered through different emotions—frustration, defensiveness, maybe even guilt. He looked at Harry, almost like he wanted him to say something else, something that would let him off the hook. But Harry just sat there, waiting.

After a long silence, Ron exhaled heavily and sank deeper into the chair. "I'll think about it," he muttered.

Harry didn't push further. He just nodded, staring into the dying embers of the fire. His mind was still spinning—not just from Ron and Arthav, but from everything. The dog. The locked door. Why was it there? What was Hogwarts hiding?

----------

- Ravenclaw Common Room -

- September 7, 1991 – Night -

The soft glow of enchanted blue flames cast flickering shadows across the stone walls of the Ravenclaw common room. The space was quiet at this hour, most students already asleep, save for a few stragglers lost in books or quiet conversations by the windows overlooking the moonlit grounds.

Arthav stepped inside, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. The tension in his chest hadn't fully dissipated, but the solitude of the common room helped. He had expected to walk straight to his dorm, but Padma lingered near the entrance, waiting for him.

She offered him a small, knowing smile. "We made it back in one piece."

He exhaled, nodding. "Barely."

She hesitated for a moment, then said, "Thank you. For keeping us safe."

Arthav looked at her, searching for any lingering fear or resentment, but there was none—only quiet gratitude.

"You don't have to thank me," he said, shaking his head. "I just did what needed to be done."

Padma crossed her arms. "That's exactly why I am thanking you. If you hadn't been there…" She trailed off, eyes flickering with unspoken thoughts. "And about Ron… Don't take what he said seriously. He's stubborn, and he hates being told he's wrong. But that doesn't mean you deserved that."

Arthav sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know what kind of person he is." His voice was quieter now, less frustrated. "I just—I thought maybe we could be friends."

Padma tilted her head. "Maybe you still can."

He didn't answer. Instead, he forced a small, tired smile. "You should get some rest."

She studied him for a second before nodding. "You too." With that, she turned and headed toward the girls' dormitory, leaving him alone in the common room.

As the door shut behind her, the exhaustion finally settled in.

Arthav sank into one of the armchairs by the fireplace, staring at the embers. His frustration had burned itself out, leaving something else in its place—clarity.

He had been living in an illusion.

Until now, he had been moving through this world as if it were something familiar, something he knew. But tonight had ripped that illusion apart.

Yes, he was cautious, pragmatic. He understood that this was an alternate reality, that things wouldn't always match the story he had known. But he had still assumed—deep down—that these people, these characters, would be the same. That they would think and act just as he remembered.

But they weren't just characters. They were real. They had thoughts, emotions, and flaws that weren't bound by the pages of a book.

Ron wasn't a predictable sidekick with occasional moments of bravery. He was a real boy, insecure and proud, clinging to whatever sense of worth he could find. And that meant he could be reckless. He could be thoughtless. He could say things that hurt.

Arthav sighed, rubbing his temples. Maybe Ron would never see him as a friend. Maybe that was just how things were. He wasn't going to chase after something that wasn't there.

With that final thought, he pushed himself up from the chair and made his way to the boys' dormitory. The fatigue was finally catching up with him, dragging at his limbs.

By the time he collapsed onto his bed, sleep took him almost instantly.

________________________________________

Just some quick questions from the readers – Is the story going too slow? Should I make it a bit more fast paced? Or is it fine as it is?

Note that in the next few chapters the Halloween incident with trolls will arrive in a short time skip.

Let me know in the comments.

________________________________________

Thanks for reading 🙏 🙏.

If you are liking this story so far please support this novel through the power stones and let me know your thoughts in the comments and please review this novel as ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ if you deem it worthwhile.