The Hounds Fear.
Harry had wandered Hogwarts many times, often under the cover of his Invisibility Cloak, but tonight, he wasn’t hidden. The thrill of exploration, of pushing just a little further beyond the rules, had led him to the forbidden third-floor corridor.
The castle was quiet—almost unnaturally so. The flickering torches barely reached the deep shadows stretching across the stone walls. Something about this part of the castle felt wrong, as if the very air was thicker, heavier.
Still, curiosity urged him on.
A large wooden door stood before him, slightly ajar.
Harry hesitated for only a moment before pushing it open. The hinges groaned loudly, and he winced. He slipped inside, barely breathing as he took in the massive, dimly lit chamber. He explored for a few moments, coming across a small door, he unlocked it. The door creaked open.
Then he saw it.
A three-headed dog. A Cerberus.
It loomed over him, its six eyes gleaming in the low light, its teeth bared in a silent snarl. The heads twitched, nostrils flaring as they caught his scent. For a moment, Harry expected it to lunge, to tear into him without hesitation.
But—
The beast froze.
Its hackles, which had begun to rise in aggression, suddenly flattened. Its eyes widened—not with fury, but with fear.
A low whimper rumbled from one of the heads. The other two followed suit, ears pressing flat against their skulls.
The Cerberus backed away.
Harry didn’t move.
The massive creature—something that should have been an unstoppable guardian—pressed itself against the farthest corner of the chamber, tails tucked between its legs. Its huge paws scraped against the floor as it tried to retreat further, but there was nowhere left to go.
It was terrified.
Of him.
A chill crawled up Harry’s spine.
This wasn’t normal. He wasn’t a threat. He wasn’t armed. He wasn’t even doing anything.
But then—
A soft sound echoed in the silent room.
Click.
The rosary beads in his pocket shifted.
Harry felt it instantly—the unnatural weight, the wrongness that had settled in them since they appeared in his pocket on the train.
The Cerberus whimpered again, its middle head squeezing its eyes shut as if trying to block out something it could feel rather than see.
Harry took a step back.
The dog flinched.
The air in the room grew colder, as though something unseen had just entered—no, revealed itself.
Harry didn’t stay to find out.
His hand clenched around the beads in his pocket as he turned and bolted from the chamber, shoving the door closed behind him.
The last sound he heard before he fled down the corridor was not a growl, nor a snarl, nor even an attempt at pursuit.
It was the sound of a three-headed beast—one of the deadliest creatures Harry had ever seen—whimpering in fear.