Chapter Six

“I’m not so sure I want to do private lessons with Quirrell anymore,” I said queasily to Ron and Harry later that week on our way back from our last class. When they asked why, I explained the Black Lake debacle, and the two were incredulous.

“You’re joking,” Harry moaned. “Why doesn’t he teach us how to conjure lake monsters?”

“I already told you guys. It’s because I’m in the accelerated class, and he wanted to help me catch up with everyone else in case I’d missed something.”

“Rubbish,” Ron scoffed. “There’s no way he’d even be teaching sixth-years that spell.”

I knew what they were insinuating—Quirrell was giving me special treatment for some reason. And I would have been lying if I said I didn’t see it. When he had casted that water serpent spell, leaving me stunned and drenched, he had demonstrated a side of himself that I never imagined the stuttering professor had in him. Yes, I knew I was an atypical case because I was a first-year in a fourth-year class, but my gut told me there was something else to it.

“Flying?” Ron pointed out a notice that had just been pinned on the wall of the Gryffindor Common Room. NOTICE: Starting from this Thursday at three-thirty, all Gryffindor and Slytherin first-years must report to the Flying Practice Grounds for weekly flying lessons.

“Oh, great. Just what I always wanted,” Harry said darkly. “An opportunity to make a fool of myself on the broomstick in front of Malfoy.”

Hearing the mention of my friend’s name, I winced a little. “You don’t know that you’ll make a fool of yourself, Harry.”

“Plus, Malfoy’s always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that’s all talk,” Ron elbowed Harry, who seemed pretty down. 

No one in the wizarding world ever seemed to be able to shut up about Quidditch. I, on the other hand, was not very excited to start flying, and I didn’t love the sport as much as nearly every other wizard in the world did. Every time I saw a broom, I couldn’t help but be reminded of when I was seven and fell off a broomstick I had stolen from Gramps, breaking my wrist. 

But worse yet, this was another class where I’d have to deal with both Draco and my new Gryffindor friends. It was becoming increasingly clear that the more these two sides of my life interacted with each other, the thinner the line I had to tiptoe between them. The last thing I wanted was to create animosity towards myself from either side.

The trouble started almost right after class had started.

When we met at three-thirty, I could tell that everyone around me was nervous to be there. Hermione was nervously reciting flying tips from Quidditch Through the Ages, Neville was literally quivering in his boots, and Ron looked like he’d lost the ability to swallow. Madam Hooch started by telling us all to summon our broom by sticking our right hand over it and saying, “Up!”

By some miracle, Harry and I were both able to get ours to fly into our hand pretty quickly—Harry’d even gotten it on his first try. I looked over at Draco, too, and he had done it, too, though the same couldn’t be said for most of the people in our class.

Eventually, after a lot of help, everyone was able to get it, and now it was time to mount our brooms. 

“Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard,” instructed Madam Hooch. “Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle – three – two –”

Of course, something had to go wrong. Neville Longbottom, bless his soul, kicked off before Madam Hooch had the chance to blow her whistle. The poor boy levitated higher and higher in the air, petrified, as Madam Hooch yelled at him to get back down.

The ordeal ended with Neville having a broken wrist—“Don’t worry, Neville, it happened to me, too,” I assured him as he groaned—and Madam Hooch barking at us to stay in place while she took him to the hospital wing. 

The first thing that Draco did that pissed me off was laughing as soon as Neville and Madam Hooch were out of earshot. 

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Parvati Patil, my next-door neighbor in the dorms, said, dropping her broom. 

“Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?” Pansy Parkinson, one of Draco’s other Slytherin friends, stepped up. “Never thought you’d like fat little crybabies, Parvati.”

“Look!” Draco pulled out something from the grass; it was the Remembrall that Neville’s gran had gotten him at breakfast. “It’s that stupid thing Longbottom’s gran sent him.”

What in the world had gotten into the boy who drew constellations with me last week in the Astronomy Tower? I could feel my heart starting to sink when realized that it was all an illusion. Or perhaps I wanted to protect our friendship so much that I ignored all the signs. I was starting to think it was the latter.

I heard Harry walk up behind me. “Give it here, Malfoy.”

I backed off before I said or did anything really bad out of anger, though I gave Pansy Parkinson a huge stinkeye that she didn’t see. If Draco was going to get his due consequence, I wasn’t going to interfere. 

The muscles in my body froze up as I watched them face off. I almost couldn’t watch. The two chased each other until Draco threw the Remembrall up in the air, and with lightning-fast speed, Harry swooped down and caught it right before it touched the ground. I was one of the people cheering for Harry as he enjoyed his victory. But it was short-lived.

Professor McGonagall came speed-walking towards us, thin-lipped and angrier than I’d ever seen her, and she took Harry away to punish him. For the rest of class, Ron and I couldn’t stop talking about how worried we were for him: “D’you think she’s going to use the cane?”

The truth was quite the opposite, actually. Harry told us much later that day, during dinner—it was so shocking that I almost choked on the salad I was having. McGonagall had offered him an unprecedented place in the House team.

“Seeker?” Ron asked. “But first years never—you must be the youngest house player in about—” 

“A century,” said Harry, shoveling pie into his mouth. “Wood told me.”

I knew next to nothing about Quidditch, but even I knew he’d achieved something incredible. “Harry, congratulations!”

Ron was so amazed, so impressed, he just sat and gaped at Harry. 

“I start training next week,” said Harry. “Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret.”

Ron and I swore not to tell, and as we excitedly chatted with Harry about how amazing Gryffindor was bound to do this year—clapping, I said, “Maybe I’ll go to see a Quidditch match for once!”—and I saw Fred and George walk over. Again, my heart started to pound and nervousness welled up in my stomach. 

I hadn’t seen Fred and George since the Sorting Ceremony. We shared no classes, and they were always off doing something related to pranks. I spotted them occasionally in passing: in the halls, or the Gryffindor Common Room, or the Great Hall, where we exchanged hellos, but nothing more than that. Around Fred, my brain always malfunctioned, and I never could come up with anything to say, anyway.

I gulped; they weren’t here to talk to me, but to congratulate Harry on his entry into the team. But I was caught off guard when Fred said:

“Oh, one more thing. Carina, you’re super good at charms and stuff, aren’t you?”

My face was so flushed—it was. miracle Harry and Ron were as dense as they were. “Um… I suppose, it depends who you’re asking…”

“Brilliant! We need someone good with charms to come with us to this new secret door we found.”

“It’s got an advanced lock that not a single one of us could break. Lee said we’d need someone better than us to do it.”

“Meet us at 9 in the Gryffindor Common Room.”

“Are you really inviting Carina to a sneak-out and not me?” Ron fumed. 

“Maybe when you’re older, ickle Ronniekins,” Fred made a patronizing smile, then patted his brother on the head as he and George walked away laughing, probably to go pull more pranks.

“Me and Carina are the same age,” he muttered angrily under his breath.

And just as they had left, Draco turned up with his friends Crabbe and Goyle. I gulped. I had had enough turbulence in my brain for a lifetime, and here Draco was, causing trouble again. Apparently, he wanted to duel Harry, which I thought was the stupidest idea I’d ever heard. 

Seeing the anger in all of their eyes, though, I knew the animosity was too far gone. I could do nothing but sink in my chair as Ron quickly volunteered to be Harry’s second. 

“Carina, do you know any healing spells?” Ron looked at me expectantly. “We’ll need a Healer for both sides.”

I sighed. It looked like saying no wasn’t an option. “Fine—”

“Wait, Carina, you don’t have to come,” Draco stammered a little, as though he had messed up. Harry and Ron, sensing blood, interjected, jeered at him.

“Scared, Malfoy?” Ron taunted.

I felt my own anger rising up as I remembered the utter bullying that Draco had inflicted on Neville, who hadn’t done anything wrong, just a few hours earlier. 

“You were so unbelievably mean earlier,” I said. “Maybe you need to be straightened.”

After dusting himself off and clearing his throat, Draco collected himself, and his hard stare returned. “Fine. Meet you at midnight in the trophy room.”

Somehow, I had become Ms. Everyone’s Helper, running around in the night making sure they were all safe. 

I tried to finish as much schoolwork as I could before and after dinner, but my heart was beating too fast. What could describe my feeling: extreme excitement, or extreme anxiety? I was going to see Fred and George and go exploring with them—what on Earth could be more fun? But the thing was, I was going with Fred. There was no telling what kind of effect he was going to have on me. What if I got too nervous and messed up the alohomora maxima spell, causing all of us to get into trouble? What if Fred and George hated me forever for my failures?

I dispelled all these thoughts from my mind as best I could when the clock neared 7, because no matter what, I was going to go anyway, and Gramps always says that when you’ve made up your mind it’s a waste of time to look back. At 6:50, I combed and did my hair, even applying a little makeup I borrowed from Parvati Patil to my eyes. 

The twins greeted me in the common room as they promised, and I tried my best to hide my anxiety, which felt unbelievably obvious. They talked me through the game plan.

“Lee’s got too much homework, so he’ll be sitting this one out today,” Fred started.

“We found this room in the forbidden corridor on the third floor—”

“You mean, the place that Gra—I mean, Dumbledore said would result in our slow, painful deaths?” I asked, wide-mouthed, remembering his announcement from the Sorting Ceremony.

“Well, yeah, but here’s the thing. Percy said Dumbledore didn’t tell the prefects why that place is off-limits. Bit suspicious, don’t you think?”

“We thought we might explore it. We’re dying to see what’s behind that door.”

“At the cost of our lives?!”

“We won’t do it if you don’t want to. Fred and I don’t know how to open that lock, anyway. If you don’t come, this operation is gillyweed.”

“Fine,” I said, wondering if I’d end up regretting my decision. “But if we’re going to go into a place that dangerous, we’re going to have to protect ourselves.”

Remembering a charm that I had read out of a book once, a plan instantly started forming in my head. “I think I’ve got it.”

Fred and George and I waited until everyone had gone to their rooms for 9PM curfew, and when no one was looking, I cast the Riposte Charm around us. It was a special, handy spell, though really difficult—Professor Flitwick briefly mentioned it in class as outside the scope of fourth-year Charms. It created a glowing, light blue spherical barrier covering us all, good for perhaps one or two spells or objects thrown our way if there was something dangerous behind the door. Undoubtedly (perhaps a little-doubtedly), it would give us at least enough time to escape and shut the door behind us if necessary.

Before entering, I held my ear to the door. I could hear a deep, periodic sound, but it was too muffled to make out where or what was making it. I ruled that as long as it wasn’t a giant roar or the chittering of a thousand insects, we were probably fine.

“Hey, Carina, thank you for doing this,” Fred whispered.

“Really, we appreciate it. We’ll pay you back,” George said.

“Don’t mention it. Alohomora maxima!”

The magical lock I held in my hand shattered, letting us through the door. As it creaked open, I realized that the periodic sound was actually snoring. Loud snoring. There must have been something gigantic in there, though clearly we were safe for the time being. The room was pitch-dark.

“Lumos,” I whispered. Fred and George did the same.

There was a great, dark figure looming over us. It was a beast of some kind, and it had fur and floopy ears. A dog? A dog… with three heads?

“Fluffy?” I whispered, incredulous. Suddenly, it all made sense—Hagrid’s comment that he was being taken away, the comment he’d made before I even started Hogwarts. And when he added it was “Hogwarts business”—this was the business! They were imprisoning Fluffy!

Fluffy had no idea I was there, but I instantly felt horrible for the poor dog. The room was hardly his size. For Fluffy, it was the equivalent of a tiny cage. My heart sinking, I moved my wand around some more. I saw a chain tied around his neck, binding him to the wall. 

“What have they been doing to you, Fluffy?” I touched the cold, metal chains. He didn’t wake up—Fluffy was always a bit of a heavy sleeper. 

“That thing’s called Fluffy?” George looked like all the blood had drained from his face. 

“Wait! Look,” Fred motioned for us to look downwards, at the floor. A trapdoor. “He’s guarding something.”

“Wicked.” George walked towards the door, examining it.

“D’you reckon we could go down it?”

“No, his paw’s covering pretty much all of it.”

“And it would be a horrible idea,” I said, still examining at the chains around poor Fluffy’s neck. How could Hagrid have done this to him? “Fluffy’s got a very one-track mind. If you wake him up and try to trespass, he’d probably chomp your head off.”

“How do you know so much about this thing, anyway?”

“I’ll tell you once we’ve left.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice.”

And so, after peering out of the corridor to make sure no one was coming, Fred, George, and I left the room as quietly as we had entered. It was an unbelievably successful and safe endeavor, all things considered.

When we got back to the Gryffindor Common Room, Fred demanded, “How on earth did you know its name?”

“Seemed about the least fluffy thing in the world,” added George.

“He’s Hagrid’s pet,” I said, feeling as though I could finally un-tense my shoulders. “Or, I guess, was Hagrid’s pet. You know I’ve always been very good friends with him. He kept me company when I had no friends to play with and all that.”

Fred and George nodded.

“Hagrid raised Fluffy in his hut, and I’ve known the dog since I was seven or eight,” I said, plopping myself into a chair. “I—I can’t believe Hagrid would give him away like that, though. Fluffy’s always been so caring, even if he is one-track minded… I can’t believe they’d keep him there.”

“Hey, maybe they don’t keep him there all the time,” Fred said. “Maybe he stays there in shifts.”

“Maybe they pay him in steak.”

I laughed a little, though I had a sinking feeling that they were wrong.

When I had returned to my room at ten-thirty, there was a little bit of time to wait until the duel, so I finished up my Transfiguration homework while waiting for Ron and Harry. I couldn’t take my mind off of poor Fluffy. I weighed my options—if I went to Hagrid or any of the other professors, they’d know I was sneaking around where I shouldn’t have been, and I didn’t want to lose House Points for Gryffindor when Harry, Ron, and I had gotten so many off during Potions. 

On our way out of the room, Hermione tried to stop us. I thought she had a point, but it was the stuck-up way she was trying to go about it, plus the fact that she was such a know-it-all in all our classes, that caused us to shoo her off rudely. 

When we all left the common room, I turned around to see the Fat Lady completely missing. And there was a familiar sleeping figure on the floor?

“Neville?” I asked, waking him up. His hair was a mess—he must’ve been there for hours. 

“I came back late but forgot the password,” he blubbered.

“Keep your voice down, Neville. It's ‘Pig snout’ but it won’t help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere.” 

“How’s your arm?” said Harry. 

“Fine,” said Neville, showing us. “Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute.”

“Good—well, look, Neville, we’ve got to be somewhere, we’ll see you later—”

“Don’t leave me!” Neville cried, scrambling to his feet. “I don’t want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron’s been past twice already.”

Ron looked at his watch and then glared furiously at Neville, then sighed. “Fine. Just don’t get caught, or I’ll never rest until I’ve used that Curse of the Bogies spell Quirrell mentioned on you.”

Neville nodded nervously, as though saying, “You don’t need to tell me twice.”

We’d only made it across one corridor until Ron hissed, “Shhh!” 

I lit up the tip of my wand using the Lumos spell. Of course, it was my responsibility to lead them to the room. Once we had gotten through the corridors without getting caught, we all sprinted up the stairs towards the third floor and made our way into the trophy room. Draco and Crabbe weren’t there yet; the seconds ticked by.

“If they never show up, it’s a forfeit,” Ron whispered. Harry kept his wand at the ready.

Suddenly, we all heard a noise in the next room that caused my stomach to feel as though it had leapt out of my body. It was Filch talking to Mrs. Norris.

“Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner.”

With a dreadful look on his face, Harry signalled us all to follow him to a door at the opposite side of the classroom. Poor Neville looked scared out of his mind. My stomach sank at the realization that Draco had trapped us.

Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run that ended with him tripping. He grabbed Ron around the waist, and the pair of them toppled right into a suit of armor. 

It felt as though the whole castle knew we were here.

“Go, go, GO!” I shouted as the armor collapsed onto itself, clanging so much it hurt my ears. And suddenly, I remembered where I was. The third floor. Right by the forbidden corridor. “I know a place. Follow me!”

We sprinted down the corridor and reached what I knew to be Fluffy’s door. The lock was still broken from earlier. “Before we go in, don’t be scared. He’s friendly.”

“What’d you mean? Who’s friendly?” Harry asked with a bit of concern, and I abruptly pulled them into the room. When I swung open the door, I saw Fluffy’s confused faces gazing down at us. His expression turned to one of pure questioning, then anger, then glee when he saw my face.

“Bloody hell!” screamed Ron. He and Neville both reached for the door.

“He’s friendly,” I insisted, pulling them back. One of Fluffy’s tongues licked me up and down. He had grown so much. “He won’t kill you if you’re with me.”

“How do you know this thing?” Harry questioned in disbelief. He stayed a good distance away from Fluffy—a wise move.

“Hagrid took care of him,” I said, sighing as I rubbed one of his noses. Hermione tentatively petted one of his other faces. “But he’s sitting in this room that’s too small for him, and I think he stays here all night long.”

“Poor thing,” Hermione whispered as Fluffy whined gently. But her eyes filled with pointed anxiety as soon as she realized where we were—and under what circumstances. “But we need to get out of here as soon as possible!”

I sighed, seeing Fluffy’s sad eyes—how funny it was that I happened to stumble upon him for the second time that night. “You’re right. It’s time to go.”