Draco Malfoy smirked to himself in the Slytherin common room, the flickering green fmes of the firepce casting shadows across his face. His pn was set. After his public humiliation at the hands of the Junior Marauders, he was determined to regain his dignity—and what better way than to outmaneuver Charlie Potter in front of the entire school?

  Earlier that day, Draco had challenged Charlie Potter to a midnight duel in the Trophy Room. To ensure an advantage, Draco tipped off Argus Filch, the cantankerous caretaker, about first-years sneaking around the castle after curfew. He imagined the chaos that would ensue when Filch caught Potter and his friends red-handed.

  “This is going to be perfect,” Draco muttered, his voice low.

  As luck would have it, Harry Weasley happened to be passing by the common room entrance when he overheard Draco’s muffled voice. Though he couldn’t catch everything, the mention of Charlie Potter and Filch was enough to make him pause.

  Harry’s mind raced. Draco’s up to something.

  Not wanting to waste time, Harry slipped quietly out of the Slytherin dungeon and headed toward the Gryffindor Tower. His heart pounded as he climbed the stairs, his mind fixated on warning his brother and friends before things spiraled out of control.

  When Harry reached the Gryffindor common room, he found it buzzing with activity. The Junior Marauders were huddled together near the firepce, discussing their strategy for the duel. Charlie was practicing wand movements, while Ron looked nervous but determined. Neville, ever the loyal friend, was holding a small pouch of something suspiciously glittery—likely prank dust.

  “Ron,” Harry whispered urgently as he approached.

  Ron looked up, surprised. “Harry? What are you doing here?”

  Harry gnced around to make sure no one was listening before speaking. “Draco’s setting you up. He told Filch about the duel. If you go, you’re going to get caught.”

  Ron’s face turned red with anger. “That slimy git! I knew he couldn’t be trusted!”

  Charlie frowned, his expression thoughtful. “Are you sure, Harry?”

  Harry nodded. “I heard him myself. He’s counting on Filch showing up to catch you in the act. This isn’t about the duel—it’s about getting you into trouble.”

  The group fell silent, processing the information. Finally, Charlie spoke.

  “Well, if Draco thinks he can outsmart us, he’s got another thing coming. We’re not going to back out, but we’re not going to walk into his trap either.”

  Ron looked confused. “What are we going to do, then?”

  Charlie grinned. “Simple. We turn the tables.”

  The group leaned in, and Charlie outlined a new pn.

  The morning after the Trophy Room debacle, whispers filled the corridors of Hogwarts. The Junior Marauders had struck again, and this time, their target was Draco Malfoy’s reputation.

  Everywhere Draco went, he heard the same story: that he had run away from the very duel he had initiated with Charlie Potter.

  Ron Weasley, as eager and loud as ever, was the main voice behind the rumor. During breakfast in the Great Hall, he regaled anyone who would listen with an embellished tale of how the Junior Marauders had waited patiently in the Trophy Room, only for Draco to never show up.

  “Imagine that,” Ron said loudly, grinning as his voice carried over the clinking of cutlery. “He was the one who challenged Charlie, and then he didn’t even have the guts to show up! What a coward!”

  Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas roared with ughter, and even Hermione Granger, who usually disapproved of such antics, smiled faintly at the thought of Draco’s humiliation.

  The Gryffindor table was abuzz with the rumor, and soon the Hufflepuffs and Ravencws joined in the chatter.

  Draco sat at the Slytherin table, fuming. His hands clenched tightly around his goblet as he gred across the hall at the Junior Marauders. Bise Zabini leaned over, his voice calm but ced with amusement.

  “Quite the story going around, Malfoy,” Bise said, sipping his pumpkin juice. “Care to expin what actually happened?”

  The uppercssmen at the Slytherin table didn’t even try to hide their smirks. “What happened, Malfoy?” one of them asked, feigning concern. “Did the big, bad Gryffindors scare you off?”

  Draco smmed his goblet down, spilling juice across the table. “I didn’t run away!” he snapped. “They’re lying!”

  Harry, sitting at the Slytherin table, watched the chaos unfold with a neutral expression. He had no part in spreading the rumor—he preferred to keep his involvement in the incident low-key—but he couldn’t deny the satisfaction of seeing Draco squirm.

  Bise leaned toward Harry. “Your brothers are really making a spectacle of him, aren’t they?”

  Harry smirked faintly. “Well, Malfoy did challenge them. He just didn’t expect to lose.”

  “Still,” Bise said, his tone thoughtful, “this won’t end here. Malfoy’s not the type to let something like this go.”

  Draco spent the rest of the day plotting his retaliation. He couldn’t let the rumor go unanswered—not when his image and pride were at stake.

  In the common room that evening, he gathered Crabbe and Goyle, who listened intently as he outlined his pn.

  “They want to make me look like a coward? Fine. I’ll show them just how dangerous it is to cross me,” Draco hissed.

  “What are we gonna do?” Goyle asked, his brow furrowed.

  Draco’s smirk returned. “We’re going to make sure their next prank backfires spectacurly. If they want a war, they’ll get one.”

  Meanwhile, the Junior Marauders basked in their success. Charlie, Ron, and Neville sat in the Gryffindor common room, ughing about the day’s events.

  “Did you see Malfoy’s face at breakfast?” Ron said, nearly choking on his ughter. “He looked like he was about to explode!”

  Charlie grinned. “Let him stew. He started this, and now he’s learning what it’s like to be outmatched.”

  Neville chuckled but looked slightly uneasy. “Do you think he’ll try something? Malfoy’s not exactly the forgiving type.”

  Charlie shrugged. “Let him try. Whatever he throws at us, we’ll be ready.”

  Later that evening, Harry intercepted Ron in the hallway.

  “Ron,” Harry said quietly, pulling his brother aside, “you need to be careful.”

  Ron frowned. “Why? Malfoy’s all talk.”

  Harry shook his head. “He’s not just going to take this lying down. He’s already plotting something—I can feel it. Just... don’t let your guard down.”

  Ron grinned. “Don’t worry, Harry. We’ve got this.”

  But as Harry returned to the Slytherin common room, he couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to escate—and that this feud between Draco and the Junior Marauders was far from over.

  Harry Weasley sat in the Slytherin common room, staring at his Potions textbook, but his mind was elsewhere. His thoughts kept drifting to his brother, Ron, and the strange behavior he’d been noticing tely. Ron and his friends, Charlie Potter and Neville Longbottom, had been sneaking around the castle more than usual, and Harry had a strong suspicion they were up to something dangerous.

  His suspicions were confirmed one evening when Ron pulled him aside near the Great Hall, his face pale but his eyes alight with excitement.

  “Harry,” Ron whispered, gncing around to make sure no one was listening. “You’re not going to believe this. There’s a three-headed dog inside the Forbidden Corridor!”

  Harry blinked. “A three-headed dog? You’ve actually seen it?”

  Ron nodded furiously. “Yeah, me, Charlie, and Neville. It’s massive! The thing’s guarding something, Harry. We’re trying to figure out what.”

  Harry’s stomach twisted with unease. He had read enough books about magical creatures to know that a three-headed dog was no joke. “Ron, that’s dangerous. If it’s guarding something, it’s obviously important—and off-limits.”

  Ron shrugged. “We’re being careful. But you should see it, Harry. It’s incredible.”

  Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “What if you get caught? Or worse, hurt? You know Filch is always lurking around that corridor.”

  Ron grinned. “We’ve managed so far, haven’t we? Besides, Charlie thinks it’s guarding something really valuable. We can’t just ignore it.”

  Harry shook his head. “This sounds like a terrible idea.”

  Despite his reservations, Harry couldn’t help but be curious about the mysterious creature and what it might be guarding. He decided to press Ron for more details.

  “So, what’s the pn? You’re just going to keep sneaking around until you figure it out?”

  Ron leaned in, lowering his voice. “Charlie’s been doing some research. He thinks the dog’s guarding some kind of magical artifact.”

  It was during a quiet moment in the great hall that Ron cornered Harry, looking unusually determined. Harry was busy reviewing a Potions essay, but Ron’s tone immediately grabbed his attention.

  “Harry,” Ron began, his voice a whisper, “do you know who Nichos Fmel is?”

  Harry paused, the name stirring a memory deep in his mind. Nichos Fmel... He had seen that name before. He set his quill down and looked at his brother.

  “Yeah, I know who he is,” Harry said slowly. “He’s on one of the Chocote Frog cards. He’s the guy who created the Philosopher’s Stone.”

  Ron’s eyes widened. “So it’s true!”

  “What’s true?” Harry asked, his curiosity piqued.

  Ron leaned closer. “Charlie thinks that’s what the three-headed dog is guarding—the Philosopher’s Stone.”

  Harry leaned forward in his table , the pieces falling into pce. “It makes sense,” he muttered, more to himself than to Ron. “If Fmel is involved, and if the Philosopher’s Stone is here, it would expin why they’ve got such a dangerous creature guarding it.”

  Ron nodded eagerly. “Exactly! Charlie’s been digging through every book he can find, but we couldn’t figure out who Fmel was. How do you know about him?”

  Harry smirked. “I collect Chocote Frog cards, remember? I’ve probably got five or six of his card. He’s famous in the wizarding world for his alchemy and the Stone.”

  Ron’s excitement was palpable, but Harry felt a growing sense of unease. If the Philosopher’s Stone really was hidden in Hogwarts, then it wasn’t just a matter of curiosity anymore—it was a matter of security.

  “Ron, think about it,” Harry said, his voice serious. “If the Philosopher’s Stone is here, it’s because someone is trying to protect it. You and Charlie need to stop messing around with this. It’s not something kids should be involved in.”

  Ron frowned. “But don’t you want to know why it’s here? What if someone’s trying to steal it?”

  “That’s not our problem,” Harry replied firmly. “That’s for Dumbledore and the professors to handle. If you guys keep poking around, you’re going to get into serious trouble—or worse.”

  Despite Harry’s warning, he could see that Ron wasn’t convinced. His brother’s stubborn nature was evident, and Harry knew that if Charlie and Neville were determined to uncover the Stone’s secrets, Ron wouldn’t back down either.

  “Ron,” Harry said, lowering his voice, “promise me you’ll be careful. I mean it. Whatever’s going on with that dog and the Stone, it’s dangerous.”

  Ron hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “Alright, I promise. But if we find out anything else, I’ll tell you.”

  Harry sighed. “You’d better.”

  After Ron left, Harry sat in silence, his mind racing. The Philosopher’s Stone wasn’t just a legendary artifact—it was a beacon for trouble. He decided to keep a closer eye on his brother and his friends, knowing that their curiosity could lead them into danger.

  And for the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, Harry felt a deeper connection to the school’s mysteries. If the Stone is here, he thought, then there’s more to this pce than anyone realizes.

  Little did he know, this was just the beginning of a much rger adventure—one that would test their courage, wit, and loyalty in ways they could never have imagined.