The real Herry Potter

The next morning, the atmosphere in Gryffindor Tower was heavy with disappointment. As Harry descended the stairs into the common room, he noticed an unusual stillness among his housemates. The usual chatter and laughter were absent, replaced by sullen faces and a pervasive sense of resentment.

The source of the tension was immediately apparent as Harry glanced at the giant hourglasses in the Entrance Hall during breakfast. The Gryffindor sand had dropped drastically, leaving them dead last in the race for the House Cup. The shining rubies, which had once placed them near the top, now reflected the crimson glow of failure.

Gryffindor was 150 points behind the next house.

Harry had heard the full story from Ron, Dean, and Seamus the night before. Their failed midnight duel with Draco Malfoy, which ended in their being caught by Argus Filch, had cost Gryffindor dearly. The 150-point deduction had plunged them to the bottom of the standings, a fact that was not lost on anyone.

As Harry sat down at the long table in the Great Hall, he could feel the weight of his housemates' stares. He wasn't the one who had caused the point loss, but being close to Ron and the others made him feel as if he were somehow complicit. Glancing sideways, Harry could see Ron sitting with his head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan were similarly quiet, sitting slightly apart from the group, looking guilty but defiant. The usual camaraderie that Harry had come to expect from Gryffindor was gone, replaced by an icy silence. The cheerful buzz of the Great Hall seemed muted to Gryffindor ears, as the other houses talked and laughed, unaware or uninterested in the house's internal strife.

As they ate breakfast, Harry noticed the subtle shift in the way other Gryffindors were treating Ron, Dean, and Seamus. Normally, Ron would be laughing with his brothers or engaging in casual conversations with classmates, but today, it was different. He was largely ignored by the rest of the house.

"Serves them right," Harry overheard a third-year student mutter to their friend as they walked by, their eyes fixed on Ron's bowed head.

"150 points gone! All because of some stupid duel that didn't even happen," whispered another.

"Gryffindor's at the bottom of the scoreboard now, thanks to them," someone else added bitterly. "How are we ever going to catch up?"

It was clear that the house was furious, and Ron, Dean, and Seamus were the targets of their frustration. Every time someone from another house passed by, they would glance at Gryffindor's dwindling hourglass with a smirk or a snide comment. It was as if the entire school knew about the point loss, and the spotlight of shame had shifted to Gryffindor Tower.

Ron's usual carefree attitude had all but vanished. He poked at his food, his face flushed with embarrassment. Harry felt a pang of sympathy for him, but at the same time, he couldn't shake the feeling that Ron had brought this on himself. He hadn't even consulted Harry before agreeing to the duel with Malfoy, and now the entire house was paying the price for it.

"Don't worry, mate," Neville said quietly, sitting beside Harry. "People will get over it. It's just points."

"Easy for you to say," Ron muttered under his breath. "You didn't lose 150 of them."

Neville shifted uncomfortably but didn't say anything more.

As they made their way to their first class, the tension in the corridors mirrored that in the Great Hall. Students from other houses didn't waste the opportunity to rub salt in the wound, casting snide remarks and gloating as they passed.

"Better keep an eye on those rubies, Gryffindor. Don't want to lose any more," a Ravenclaw quipped as they walked by.

Slytherins, as expected, were the worst. Draco Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, sauntered past with an exaggerated smirk on his face.

"Ah, Potter! So you didn't show up for our little duel, did you?" Malfoy sneered. "I suppose you let your lackeys fight for you instead. And look where that got them."

Harry bit back an angry retort. Malfoy was insufferable on a good day, but now, with the points loss hanging over Gryffindor, he was unbearable.

"Too bad, Weasley," Malfoy continued, addressing Ron directly. "I guess bravery doesn't always pay off, does it?"

Ron clenched his fists, but Harry stepped forward, putting a hand on his shoulder before he could do anything rash. "It's not worth it," Harry whispered. "Don't give him the satisfaction."

For once, Ron seemed to listen. He glared at Malfoy but didn't respond. With a final smirk, Malfoy and his goons sauntered off down the corridor, leaving a trail of derisive laughter in their wake.

The rest of the day passed in much the same way. Teachers, though not unkind, were noticeably less enthusiastic when awarding points to Gryffindor. Even Professor McGonagall, who usually had a soft spot for her house, was unusually stern during Transfiguration, and Harry couldn't help but wonder if she was still upset about the incident.

After Potions class, Harry hurried down the dimly lit corridors of the dungeons, his mind racing with thoughts of the disastrous points loss and the growing tension in Gryffindor. The heavy weight of disappointment lingered in his chest, and he knew he had to push through the day with a clear head, even though things weren't looking great for his house.

Suddenly, he felt a strong hand grab his arm from behind, yanking him off balance. Before Harry could react, he was pulled into an abandoned classroom, and the door slammed shut behind him with a loud thud. Instinctively, Harry spun around, his wand already drawn and pointed directly at the throat of his kidnapper.

"Whoa, easy there," came a calm, familiar voice.

Harry blinked and realized his wand was aimed at none other than Theodore Nott. His heart was still racing, but he lowered his wand slightly. Theodore, a first year Slytherin, wasn't someone Harry considered an enemy, especially given that they were both part of the secret club, the Order of the Stars. In fact, they were quite friendly, despite being in rival houses.

"What the hell are you doing, Nott?" Harry demanded, still on edge.

Before Theodore could answer, the door creaked open again, and Blaise Zabini slipped into the room, his eyes scanning the corridor behind him to ensure they weren't being followed. Harry sighed, recognizing Blaise as another member of the Order of the Stars, and relaxed just a fraction.

Theodore smiled mischievously, clearly enjoying the drama he had caused. "Relax, Potter. We're not here to hurt you."

"Could've fooled me," Harry muttered, pocketing his wand but still glaring at them both. "So, what's going on? Why the ambush?"

Theodore's expression turned serious as he glanced around the abandoned classroom, ensuring they were truly alone. He lowered his voice. "We needed to talk to you. It's about Malfoy."

Harry's brow furrowed. "Malfoy? What about him?"

Blaise stepped forward, crossing his arms. "I heard he's been making fun of you and your lot for falling for his fake duel in the trophy room. He's going around boasting about how he sent three Gryffindors on a wild goose chase. Making himself out to be the clever Slytherin who outsmarted you all."

Harry's eyes narrowed, his irritation rising. "Yeah, I figured as much. Typical Malfoy. But that's old news now. What's the point of dragging me in here?"

"That's not all," Theodore interjected. "There's more to the story than Malfoy's bragging."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Theodore leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Crabbe and Goyle were talking about it in secret. Turns out, Malfoy did plan to go to the trophy room. He wanted to rub it in your face by showing up after you and your Gryffindor friends left, but things didn't go as planned."

Harry's curiosity was piqued. "What happened?"

"They got lost," Theodore said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "On their way to the trophy room, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle ended up in a part of the castle they weren't supposed to be in."

"The forbidden corridor," Blaise added, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "The one Dumbledore specifically warned us about at the beginning of the year."

Harry's heart skipped a beat. He remembered Dumbledore's warning vividly. The third-floor corridor was strictly off-limits, and now Malfoy had stumbled right into it.

"And get this," Theodore continued, lowering his voice even further. "They found something. Something big."

Harry leaned in, hanging on to Theodore's every word. "What?"

"A giant three-headed dog," Theodore said, his voice barely audible. "Guarding a trapdoor."

Harry's mouth went dry. A three-headed dog? Guarding a trapdoor? What on earth was that doing in Hogwarts?"

I overheard Crabbe and Goyle talking about it," Theodore said, glancing at Blaise. "They were terrified. They didn't think anyone else knew, but they couldn't stop whispering about it when they thought no one was listening."

Blaise nodded in agreement. "It's true. They're scared out of their wits. Malfoy's trying to play it off like it's no big deal, but we both know he's not as brave as he pretends to be."

Harry's mind was racing. A three-headed dog? What could it be guarding? And why had Dumbledore warned everyone to stay away from that corridor?"

So," Harry said, his voice steady, "what do you want me to do about it?"

Theodore shrugged. "We thought you'd want to know, especially since Malfoy's been running his mouth about the duel. Figured you might want to investigate…or at least keep an eye on him."

Blaise smirked. "You know how Malfoy is. He'll keep poking until he gets himself into trouble."

Harry nodded, though his mind was already elsewhere. The three-headed dog, the forbidden corridor, the trapdoor—it all sounded suspicious, but he needed more information.

"Thanks for telling me," Harry said, glancing between Theodore and Blaise. "But I have to go. I can't stay down here too long, or someone will notice I'm missing."

Theodore stepped aside, gesturing toward the door. "Of course. Just…be careful, Potter."

Harry gave them both a nod and slipped out of the abandoned classroom, heading back toward the main corridor. His thoughts were spinning as he rejoined the other Gryffindors for their next class. What had Malfoy and his goons stumbled upon? And more importantly, what was it guarding?

By the time dinner rolled around, the tension in Gryffindor had reached its peak. The common room was unusually quiet that evening, with students avoiding eye contact with Ron, Dean, and Seamus, whose once friendly faces now looked worn and defeated.

At one point, Ron finally broke the silence. "Alright, I get it!" he snapped, looking around at the other Gryffindors. "We messed up, okay? I didn't know Filch was going to catch us. It wasn't supposed to happen like this."

But his words were met with cold, stony glares. No one seemed interested in forgiveness or explanations. The loss of 150 points in one night was too much for most to overlook.

"Why did you even accept the duel in the first place?" a fourth-year girl asked, her arms crossed. "You could've just ignored Malfoy."

Ron looked down, unable to meet her gaze. "I thought… I thought it was the Gryffindor thing to do."

"Yeah, well, sometimes being brave doesn't mean being stupid," another voice said harshly. "You've put us all in a hole now. Good luck getting us out of it."

Harry could see that Ron was struggling to keep his emotions in check. He wanted to say something to defend Ron, but even he had a hard time justifying what Ron had done. The truth was, Ron had acted recklessly, and now the entire house was suffering for it.

As the evening wore on, Harry decided to retreat to the dormitory early. He was tired of the tension and the whispers, and he needed a break from the negativity swirling around the common room.

Once in bed, Harry lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He thought about the day's events, about Malfoy's sneer and the disappointed faces of his housemates. He thought about Ron, who was now bearing the brunt of the blame, and how quickly things had turned sour for them.

But most of all, Harry thought about the weight of expectation that came with being a Gryffindor. Bravery was a virtue, but it seemed that, like anything else, it had to be tempered with wisdom.