𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐀𝐦𝐞 | 𝐇.𝐏.

𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝟏 - 𝟒

I was walking a little ways behind Potter and Weasley, Hermione next to me. We had just left Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and were making our way up one of the 142 staircases in Hogwarts, when it began to move under our feet.

"What's happening?" Potter asked.

"The stair cases change, remember?" Hermione said with an air of impatience in her voice.

The stone shook to a halt, now at a completely different landing with a rather menacing, bolted door on the other side.

"Let's go this way," Potter decided, and went up the last few steps.

"Wait," I said, stopping him. "We have no idea what's in there."

"Where else is there to go?" Weasley questioned, eyeing me up and down. He had never warmed up to me, what with Mr. Weasley coming home and complaining about my father every night from the Ministry.

I just sighed. No use arguing with a redhead. 

Potter pushed open the door, and it groaned in protest. I had an extremely bad feeling about this. We were met with a completely dark corridor, and weird, grotesque statues posing in random places on the floor. Cobwebs were draped on all the walls, and the dust made me sneeze.

"Does anyone else feel like we shouldn't be in here?" Ron whispered.

"Really? I see so many other students," I quipped sarcastically, earning a glare.

"We're not supposed to be here," Hermione said, a look of realization dawning over her face. "This is the third floor corridor. The one that Professor Dumbledore told us about the first night."

Not a second later, I jumped. One of the torches burst to light, flames licking at it's metal basin. Then a meow came from behind us. The four of us whipped around to see Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, staring up at us with big, red eyes.

"It's Filch's cat!" Hermione hissed.

"Run!" Potter advised, so very helpfully, and we all bolted. 

As we ran down the slim corridor, more and more torches came to life, and more and more horrifying statues were lit up, bending over our heads as if in warning.

"Quick, let's hide through that door," I vaguely registered Potter shouting, before Hermione whipped out her wand, performed the 'Alohomora' charm, and slammed it shut behind us. Another dark room. Splendid.

"Alohomora?" Weasley asked, looking at Hermione. 

"Standard Book of Spells, chapter seven," she answered, rolling her eyes.

Then a greasy, muffled voice wavered through a crack in the door. "Anyone here, my sweet?" 

"Be quiet," I shushed them all.

There was another meow, and then footsteps. But they were getting further away instead of closer. "Come on," Filch grumbled, evidently to Mrs. Norris, and then the corridor was silent.

I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding. But my relief didn't last too long. 

"Guys..." Potter whisper-shouted.

We all turned around to where he was facing, and I stifled my gasp with the back of my hand. Laying on the floor, slobbering and snoring, was a dog. But not just any dog. A monstrous-sized, three-headed, beast of a dog.

I made to take a step backwards, to get out of this room, get out of this corridor, get out of this entire side of the castle. But the first head growled, lifting it's neck slowly. Then the second head, and then the third, yawning to show its rows of pointed, yellow teeth. When all three were raised to their full height, they began to bark. At us.