Ron Weasley and the Philosopher's Stone

During the first week at school, Malfoy and we barely bumped into each other - the only classes we had together were Professor Snape's. However, after returning from Hagrid's, Harry and I noticed a notice posted in the Gryffindor Common Room, which caused us to groan. Broomstick flights began on Tuesday, and the first-year students of the Gryffindor and Slytherin faculties had to learn to fly together. “That's great," said Harry gloomily. Just what I've always dreamed of. Making a fool of himself in front of Malfoy - and not just a fool, but a fool sitting on a broom and not knowing how to take off. “How do you know who's going to look like a fool?” I answered reasonably. “Of course, I know that Malfoy brags to everyone that he is a great Quidditch player. But I'm willing to bet on my old broom that it's all nonsense. In the end, kids get baby brooms with built-in speed and height limiters. Jeanie and I had one. It's old, of course, but you can fly. Malfoy really talked too much about flying. He loudly regretted that freshmen were not accepted into the faculty teams, and told long boastful stories about where and how he flew on a variety of brooms. The stories usually ended with Malfoy managing to evade Muggle helicopters with incredible dexterity and at the very last moment. He's driving, Muggle cars don't fly into our magical world, and it's also problematic to come in. There are muggle-repelling charms on all the entrances to the magical world. However, Malfoy was not the only one who talked about this topic - to hear Seamus Finnigan, he spent his entire childhood on a broom. And I was ready to tell anyone who would listen to me about how I once took Charlie's old broom and narrowly avoided a collision with a hang glider. He embellished it, of course, but what you won't do for the attention of the girls. Lavender also loved listening to my stories. In general, everyone who was born into wizarding families talked incessantly about Quidditch. I've already gotten into a serious argument with Dean Thomas over Quidditch. Dean loved football, and I thought there was nothing interesting about a game that was played with just one ball and the players were forbidden to fly. The next day, I was pointing at the images of the players on the WestHam soccer team poster that hung over Dean's bed. I tried to make them move. I couldn't believe that in Muggle photographs, everyone was motionless, unlike in photographs of the wizarding world, where people appeared and disappeared, winked and smiled. However, there were exceptions among those born into wizarding families. So, Neville admitted that he had never had a broom in his life, because his grandmother strictly forbade him to even think about flying. I totally agreed with her - Neville managed to get into the most incredible stories, even standing on two legs. He was very clumsy, so giving him a broom was simply scary. Hermione Granger, like Harry, who grew up in a Muggle family, was as nervous as Neville about the upcoming flights. If flying could be learned from a textbook, Hermione would already be soaring in the skies better than any bird, but that was impossible. Although Hermione, to her credit, couldn't help but make at least one attempt. At breakfast on Tuesday, she bored everyone at the table by quoting tips and tricks for beginners to fly, which she had learned from a library book called "The History of Quidditch." However, Neville listened to her very attentively, not missing a single word and constantly asking questions. Apparently, he was counting on theory to help him stay on the broom a few hours later. But I was very glad when Hermione's lecture ended with the arrival of the mail. Harry hadn't received a single letter since Friday, which, of course, Malfoy hadn't failed to point out. Malfoy's owl - or rather, unlike the others, he had an eared owl, because Malfoy liked to emphasize his originality - constantly brought him packages of sweets from home, which he solemnly opened at the table, treating his friends. Harry's no better, though. His barn owl was the only polar owl in school, but at least they gave it to him and he values it very much. He always goes to the owlery to check on her. Anyway, on Tuesday, Hedwig just flew in to check on her wayward master, but Neville's barn owl brought him a small package sent by his grandmother. Neville was overjoyed and, opening the package, showed everyone a small glass ball. The ball seemed to be filled with white smoke. “It's a reminder!” Neville explained. “Grandma knows that I forget everything all the time, and this ball tells me that you forgot to do something. Look, you need to take it in your hand, squeeze it tightly, and if pictures appear in it…” Neville's face fell as the ball in his hand suddenly began flashing images of textbooks and objects. “Well...” Neville said, confused. A useful gift. It will help Neville a lot to remember exactly what he forgot. He was trying very hard to do this when Draco Malfoy, who was passing by, snatched the ball from his hands. Harry and I jumped to our feet at the same time. It wasn't that we really wanted to fight - after all, there were friends of Malfoy's who outnumbered us very close by - but we couldn't back down either. But then Professor McGonagall stepped in between us, who had a sharper nose for trouble than any Hogwarts teacher. “What's happening?” she asked sternly. “Malfoy took the reminder from me, Professor," Neville explained. Malfoy frowned and dropped the reminder on the table in front of Neville. “I just wanted to see, Professor," he said innocently and walked away, hunching his shoulders fearfully. He seemed to be trying to shrink down and thereby avoid the possible wrath of Professor McGonagall, who simply wouldn't notice him. We're back to eating. This time I got a sausage egg. And Harry, as usual, was pecking at his porridge. And why does he like oatmeal so much? Neville stubbornly held the reminder in his hand, then sniffed and went to get his textbooks. *** At three-thirty, Harry, me, and the other Gryffindor freshmen hurried over to the flight training area. The day was sunny and clear, a light breeze was blowing, and the grass rustled underfoot. The students descended the hill in a friendly formation, heading for a flat clearing that was as far away as possible from the Forbidden Forest, gloomily swaying the treetops. The freshmen from Slytherin were already there, as were twenty broomsticks lying in a row on the ground. I remembered George and Fred complaining about the school brooms, saying that some of them vibrate if you climb too high on them, and some always swing to the left. You need to choose a broom that doesn't look so shabby. Although they all look like they've been honored veterans for a long time. Finally, the flight instructor, Madame Hooch, appeared. She had short gray hair and yellow eyes like a hawk's. So, is she drunk? The smell of it is characteristic. “Well, what are you waiting for?!” she snapped. “Everyone stands in front of the broom - come on, move it.” I looked at the broom I had chosen. It was quite old, and several of its rods were sticking out in different directions. Oh, I hope she doesn't break right under me. “Extend your right arm over the broom!” Madam Hooch commanded, standing in front of the formation. “And say, "Up!"” “UP!” Twenty voices shouted. The broom jumped into my hand, as did Harry's broom, but most of the other students weren't so lucky. Neville's broom didn't budge at all, and Hermione Granger's broom rolled on the ground for some reason. When Neville uttered the command "Up!", his voice trembled so much that it became clear that he would prefer to stay on the ground. Then Madame Hooch showed the students how to sit on a broom so as not to slip off it in the air, and walked along the line, checking how well we were holding our brooms. Harry and I were happy when Madam Hooch abruptly informed Malfoy that he was holding the broom incorrectly. “But I've been flying for years!” Malfoy retorted hotly. There was resentment in his voice. Then Madame Hooch loudly and clearly explained to him that it just meant that he had been flying incorrectly all these years. Malfoy listened to her in silence, probably realizing that if he continued the discussion, it might turn out that he was not at all the expert he wanted to appear. Was Hooch wrong, or did Malfoy really not have a flight teacher? “And now, when I blow my whistle, you will kick off the ground with force," said Madame Hooch. “Hold the broom firmly, try to keep it in an even position, rise a meter and a half, and then lower yourself - for this you need to bend slightly forward. So, on my whistle, three, two...” But Neville, nervous, twitchy, and clearly terrified at the prospect of being left on the ground alone, shot up before Madam Hooch raised the whistle to her lips. “Come back, boy!” Madam Hooch shouted, but Neville was rapidly climbing up. He looked like a cork popped out of a bottle. Two meters, four, six - and I saw Neville's pale face, looking down in fright. I saw Neville's mouth open wide in horror, as he slid off the broom, and… boom! Neville's body fell to the ground with an unpleasant sound. Alive. I breathed out a sigh of relief. His broom still continued to rise, and then it lazily glided towards the Forbidden Forest and disappeared from sight. Madam Hooch was leaning over Neville, her face even whiter than his. “A broken wrist," I heard her mutter. When Madam Hooch straightened up, her face was visibly relieved. “Get up, boy!” she commanded. "Get up. You're all right.” She turned to the other students. “I'll take him to the hospital wing now, and you wait for me and don't do anything. Leave the brooms on the ground. Anyone who touches a broom in my absence will be out of Hogwarts faster than they can say the word "Quidditch." Come on, my dear.” Madam Hooch hugged a tearful Neville and led him towards the castle. Neville was limping badly. As soon as they were far enough away for Madam Hooch to hear anything, Malfoy burst out laughing. “Did you see his face? That clumsy one is a real bag! He couldn't even slow himself down with magic.” The rest of the freshmen from Slytherin joined him. “Shut up, Malfoy," Parvati Patil cut him off. “Oh, are you standing up for that jerk Longbottom?” Pansy Parkinson, a girl from Slytherin with rough features, asked. “I never thought you liked such fat, whiny boys.” “Look at this!” Malfoy shouted, rushing forward and picking up something from the ground. “It's the stupid thing his grandmother sent him.” The reminder glittered in the sunlight. “Give her to me, Malfoy," Harry said softly. Everyone froze and turned to look at him. “Malfoy grinned impudently.” “I think I'll put it somewhere for Longbot to take it out later, like up a tree.” “Give it here!” Harry shouted, but Malfoy jumped on his broom and soared into the air. It seemed that he wasn't lying about the fact that he really could fly, and now he was easily floating above the top of a sprawling oak tree growing near the playground. “And you take her away from me, Potter!” he suggested loudly from above. Harry grabbed the broom. “No!” Hermione Granger screamed, and Harry froze. “Madam Hooch forbade us to do this: you're going to get Gryffindor in trouble.” Harry jumped onto the broom, kicked off the ground with his feet and took off. He leaned back a little and rose even higher to the surprised screams and screams of horror of the girls left on the ground and my cheers. Harry whirled his broom around, coming face to face with Malfoy. He looked amazed. “Give it here!” Harry shouted at him. “Or I'll knock you off the broom!” “Really?” Malfoy asked mockingly, but despite his tone, concern appeared on his face. Harry leaned forward and grabbed the broomstick tightly with both hands, and it lunged at Malfoy like a stone flying out of a sling. Malfoy barely managed to dodge. And Harry, rushing past, turned the broom sharply. There was a round of applause from the Gryffindors. I was enthusiastically shouting at the sky and clapping my hands. “Come on, Harry, get rid of this jerk!” “Are you bored, Malfoy?” Harry shouted loudly. “Crabbe and Goyle aren't here to help you.” Malfoy seemed to have the same idea. “Then catch it if you can!” he shouted and, throwing the glass ball high into the sky, rushed down to the ground. Harry bent forward and pointed the broom handle down, and the next second he entered an almost vertical dive. The speed was increasing. Harry stretched out his arm without slowing down, and when he was no more than half a meter from the ground, he caught the ball - just in time to straighten the broom. And he rolled gently onto the grass, clutching the ball in his hand. “HARRY POTTER!” A woman screamed from behind us. I turned around. Professor McGonagall was running towards us. Harry got to his feet, trembling with anticipation of what awaited him. “Never... Never in all the time I've been working at Hogwarts...” Professor McGonagall stopped short, unable to breathe with excitement, but her glasses glinted fiercely in the sun. “How could you... You almost broke your neck...” “It's not his fault, Professor...” “I didn't ask you, Miss Patil...” “But Malfoy...” I tried to explain to my friend that he was about to be punished by a strict dean. “That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now.” I noticed the gleeful smiles on the faces of Malfoy and his friends. He waited until the professor turned away and walked away, and then quickly got close to Malfoy and punched him in the nose. Harry staggered after Professor McGonagall, who was heading towards the castle. Harry ran after the professor, and I silently fought with Malfoy. Interestingly, Creb and Goyle did not interfere in our squabbles at all. Cheering his leader on with shouts. I hope my friend won't be expelled. I don't think so, though. I've never heard of it. But they can slap you for working out. So thoughts away, we need to get a stronger bastard. I hit him like Bill showed me. Malfoy punched me in the teeth and in the ear. Creb and Goyle suddenly pulled us apart. Damn, I just got a taste of it. Harry had already climbed the steps leading to the castle gate and disappeared inside. We were left waiting for Madame Hooch. Half an hour later, she returned and we flew for a while. After that, we wandered into the castle discussing what had happened in class. I went to get the first-aid kit. For a tincture of mountain ash. I don't want to go to the hospital wing because of my split lips and swollen ear. I'm going to heal up right now, and I'm going to wait for Harry in the great hall. *** “You're kidding...” it was at dinner. Harry had just finished telling me what had happened when Professor McGonagall led him away from the playground. While he was talking, I was enthusiastically eating a pie with beef and kidneys. But now that Harry's finished, I've completely forgotten about the pie, and I haven't even taken the last bite. “The hunter?” I was shocked. “But never freshmen... You will probably become the youngest player in the history of Hogwarts for...” “…For the last hundred years," Harry finished for him, taking a bite of the pie with gusto. “Wood has already told me this.” I was so impressed by what I heard, so amazed that I just sat there with my mouth open and couldn't take my eyes off Harry. I even put the pie aside, I was so overwhelmed with emotions. Even my successful fight with Malfoy didn't seem like an achievement anymore. “I'm starting training next week," Harry added. Just don't tell anyone. Wood wants it to remain a secret.” Fred and George entered the room and, noticing Harry, headed towards him - apparently, they were looking for him here. “You're doing great," George said quietly. "Wood brought us up to speed. After all, we are also beaters in the national team.” “I'm telling you, we're definitely going to win the inter-house Quidditch competition this year.” Fred assured him. “We haven't won since our brother Charlie graduated from Hogwarts. We'll lose to one faculty or another. But this year we will have a fantastic team. You must be very good, Harry. “Wood was jumping up and down with delight when he talked about you.” “Okay, we have to go," the twins finally realized. “Lee Jordan claims to have found a new secret corridor through which you can get out of the school.” Fred and George had barely disappeared when someone we weren't happy about came up to the table. Namely Malfoy, of course, accompanied by his loyal bodyguards Crabbe and Goyle. “Last school lunch, Potter?” Malfoy asked mockingly. “Are you going back to the Muggles? What time is your train?” “I see you've become much bolder on earth, especially when your two little friends are around.” Harry replied coldly. Crabbe and Goyle made displeased faces. These two people like to pretend to be brainless mugs. I don't know why they would do that. “I can deal with you one-on-one at any time.” said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want. A duel of wizards. No fists, just magic wands. What's the matter with you, Potter? Oh, of course, you've never heard of wizard duels.” I quickly remembered the rules. It is unlikely that he will adhere to the rules thoroughly, after all, he, like us, has not yet been taught combat magic. “He heard me," I quickly got my bearings, standing in front of Malfoy. “I'll be his second, but who will you take?” Malfoy looked at his companions, assessing which of them would be more suitable for this purpose. “Crabbe," he finally said. "Is midnight okay with you? Then at midnight we are waiting for you in the room where the awards are kept - it is always open.” Well, duels between elementary school students are prohibited. Harry should explain the situation, otherwise he's just blinking his eyes. When Malfoy walked away, Harry and I exchanged glances. “What kind of duel is this?” Harry asked. “And what does that mean: will you be my second?” “We need seconds to carry you home if you die," I calmly remarked, and calmly began to eat the already cold pie. I only realized it when I looked at Harry and saw the expression on his face. “But don't worry, deaths only happen in real duels, that is, if real wizards are fighting. And the most you and Malfoy can do is send sparks at each other. You don't know how to do anything yet, and therefore you won't be able to inflict serious damage on each other. By the way, I'm sure he expected you to refuse. “What if I wave my wand and nothing happens?” Harry asked. “Then throw the wand aside and punch him in the nose," I advised. This is certainly a violation, but the duel will still not be according to the rules. “Sorry...” A girl's voice rang out from behind us. We turned around and Hermione Granger was standing in front of us. “Can I eat here in peace?” I said meaningfully. Hermione ignored my question, especially since she wasn't looking at me, but at Harry. “I overheard what you and Malfoy were talking about...” “I bet it's no accident," I interjected. “...And I want to tell you that you have no right to wander around the school at night. If you get caught, Gryffindor will get penalty points, and you will definitely get caught.” And if you want to know, what you're going to do, ignoring the faculty, is pure selfishness. “If you must know, it's none of your business," Harry replied. “Goodbye," I ended the conversation. That's a pushy girl. I wonder if all Muggleborns are like that? *** I lay with my eyes open and listened to the steady breathing of Dean and Seamus (there were five of us in the bedroom, but Neville was still in the hospital wing). I've been giving Harry very valuable advice all evening. "If he tries to cast a curse on you, you'd better dodge, because I don't remember how to fight them off," and all the same stuff. I told him everything I remembered about magic duels, trying to prepare him better. It's eleven thirty," I finally muttered, glancing at my watch. “If we don't want to be late, we have to go.” We threw our robes over our pajamas, picked up our wands, tiptoed out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and into the Gryffindor common room. A few coals were still flickering in the fireplace. Their light turned the chairs in the room into sinister, hunchbacked black shadows. We were almost at the exit when we heard a voice from the nearest chair: “I can't believe you're going to do this after all, Harry.” The lamp flashed on. Hermione Granger was sitting in an armchair in a pink bathrobe, frowning at us. No, well, will she ever stop meddling? “You?!” I whispered furiously. “Go to sleep!” “I almost told your brother Percy about it,” Hermione snapped. “He's the headman, he would have put an end to this. But I still didn't say anything.” That's annoying. “Come on," Harry said to me. And, pushing aside the portrait of the Fat Lady, he began to make his way through the hole. However, Hermione wasn't going to give up so easily. We were already standing in the hallway when she came out of the hole after us and hissed like an angry goose. You don't think about our house, you only think about yourself, and I don't want Slytherin to win house-to-house competitions again. Because of you, we will lose the prize points that I received from Professor McGonagall, but I knew several spells that are necessary for transfiguration. “Go away," we whispered together. “Okay, but I warned you. And when you're on the train back to London tomorrow, remember what I told you-that you...” We never found out what was supposed to follow this "what are you". Hermione, without finishing, turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to tell her the password and return back, but found that the painting was empty. The fat Lady had gone to visit someone, which meant Hermione couldn't return to Gryffindor Tower. You didn't need a password to leave the bedroom, you just had to push the portrait aside, but it was impossible to enter the tower without a password, and even more so without a Fat Lady to whom you had to tell this password. “What am I supposed to do now?” Hermione asked in a shrill whisper. “That's your problem," I said. “That's it, we have to go, we'll be back late.” But we hadn't even reached the end of the hallway when Hermione caught up with us. “I'm coming with you," she said. “It's out of the question," we said in unison. Do you think I'm going to stand here and wait until Filch grabs me? But if he catches the three of us, I'll say that I tried to talk you out of it, and you'll confirm it, and then they won't do anything to me. “You're so arrogant!” I protested loudly. “Shut up, both of you!” Harry snapped. “I hear something.” We heard something like snuffling. “This is Mrs. Norris," I breathed, squinting into the darkness. But it wasn't Mrs. Norris. It was Neville. He was sleeping soundly on the floor, curled up in a ball, but he woke up immediately and jumped up as soon as we crept closer. “Thank heavens you found me!”  he exclaimed. “I've been here for hours. Couldn't remember the new password.” “Keep it down, Neville," I whispered. “The password is "piglet", but that won't help you anymore. The fat Lady has gone somewhere.” “How's your arm?” Harry asked first. “Great.” Neville held out his hand and waved it in the air. “Madam Pomfrey made the bones grow back together in one minute.” “Well, that's good," Harry smiled happily, but frowned, remembering why we were here. “ Er... Look, Neville, we have to go somewhere, so I'll see you later...” “Don't leave me!” Neville yelled. “With characteristic clumsiness, he tried to get to his feet, but almost fell. I won't stay here alone: while I was lying here, the Bloody Baron sailed past me twice.” I looked at my watch, and then glared at Hermione and Neville. If Harry and I get caught because of the two of you, I won't rest until I've learned the "ghost curse" that Quirrell told me about and tried it on you. Hermione opened her mouth, maybe to tell me how to cast the "ghost curse," but Harry hissed at her. And, putting his finger to his lips, he beckoned everyone to follow him. We tiptoed along corridors lined with squares of light falling from tall windows. We've been lucky so far. We made the last turn, jumped up the last staircase, found ourselves on the third floor and silently crept into the room where the awards were kept. Malfoy and Crabbe weren't here yet, so we got there first. Moonlight flooded the room. The crystal boxes sparkled in the moonlight. Goblets, shields with coats of arms, plaques and statuettes shone silver and gold in the dark. We moved along the wall, keeping our eyes on the doors at opposite ends of the room. Harry took out his wand in case Malfoy jumped out of the darkness and attacked him immediately. But no one appeared. It seemed as if someone had slowed down the passage of time - the minutes crept by like hours. “He's late, maybe he got cold feet.” I whispered. A noise coming from the next room made us jump. Before Harry could raise his wand, a hoarse male voice rang out. It didn't belong to Malfoy at all. “Take a good sniff, my dear. They must have hidden in a corner.” It was Filch's voice, addressing Mrs. Norris. Harry waved for us to follow him and quickly tiptoed towards the door opposite the one Filch and his cat were about to appear from. Neville, who was closing the chain, had barely left the room when we heard Filch enter it. “They're here somewhere," we heard him mutter. “They're probably hiding.” Harry looked at us, getting our attention. “Over here!” he said soundlessly, carefully articulating, and we began to creep along a long gallery lined with knight's armor. Filch's footsteps could be clearly heard behind him. And then Neville suddenly gave a startled squeak and started running. As expected, the clumsy Neville did not manage to escape far. He stumbled, clutching convulsively at me running in front of him. We fell, crashing into a knight in armor standing on a low pedestal. The noise and ringing we raised was enough to wake up the whole castle. “LET'S RUN!” Harry screamed, and the four of us ran down the gallery as fast as we could, not looking back and not knowing if Filch was following us. We flew through the open door, narrowly missing the door jamb, turned right, ran down the corridor, and then jumped across the next corridor. Harry was the first to run, and we were right behind him. Damn, I can't even figure out where we are. We slipped through the tapestry and found ourselves in a secret passage. We ran through it to the end and stopped near the classroom where spell classes were held. Suddenly I realized that somehow we had managed to cover a really huge distance - the room chosen for the duel was far, far away from here. “I think we've lost him," Harry managed to say, catching his breath. He leaned his hot body against the cold wall and wiped his sweaty forehead with the sleeve of his robe. Neville, who was standing next to him, doubled over, breathing heavily and muttering something under his breath. “I'm... for you... I told you," Hermione gasped, holding her chest with both hands... spoke. “We need to get back to Gryffindor Tower," I said. - And as soon as possible. “Malfoy tricked you," said Hermione. She hadn't caught her breath yet, but her nature didn't allow her to remain silent. I hope you've already figured that out. He wasn't going to come there. And Filch knew that someone had to be in this room. It was Malfoy who made it clear to him that someone would be there at midnight. Unfortunately, she's right, but he's going to pay for it. You can't talk about a duel without exposing yourself, but you can ambush him somewhere and punch him in the face. “Come on," Harry waved his hand instead of answering. We hadn't taken ten steps when we heard someone turn the doorknob, and Peeves floated out of the office next to us. He noticed us immediately and even squealed with delight. “Keep it down, Peeves, please.” Harry put his finger to his lips. “You're going to get us kicked out of school.” Peeves cackled happily. “Hanging out at night, little freshmen? Well, well, well, it's not good, kids, it's very bad, they'll catch you.” “If you don't turn us in, they won't catch us.” Harry folded his arms pleadingly across his chest. “Please, Peeves.” “I should probably call Filch. I just have to. My duty demands it.” Peeves spoke in a righteous voice, but his eyes sparkled with an unkind fire. “And it's all for your own good.” “Get out of the way," I couldn't stand it and swung at Peeves with my hand. I overreacted, and it was a mistake. “STUDENTS ARE WANDERING AROUND THE SCHOOL!” Peeves shouted deafeningly. “THE STUDENTS ARE WANDERING AROUND THE SCHOOL, THEY'RE IN THE SPELL CORRIDOR RIGHT NOW!” We all ducked under Peeves, who was hanging in the air, and ran as if our lives depended on our speed. But when we reached the end of the corridor, we bumped into a locked door. “That's all!” I groaned, vainly banging my shoulder against the door. “It's over with us! We're lost!” We could already hear footsteps - it was Filch running towards Peeves' screams. “Come on, move over," Hermione commanded sharply. She snatched Harry's wand from his hands, tapped it on the locked lock, and whispered, "Alohomora!" Damn, is she a witch or what? Well, who goes to a magic school without a wand? Magicians generally try not to put their tools far away from themselves. After all, we're not witchers to fight hand-to-hand. Too much energy consumption when doing magic without a wand forces you to use concentrators. Some use wands, some use rings, but they are more used as storage devices, some fighters use staffs and enchanted short blades, like Bill. The lock rattled, the door swung open, and we quickly slipped inside, closing the door behind us and pressing ourselves against it to hear what was happening in the hallway. “Where did they go, Peeves?” Filch's voice reached us. “Come on, I'm waiting.” “Say "please."” “Don't piss me off, Peeves! So, where did they run to?” “Please tell me first, or I don't know anything," persisted Peeves. Filch was clearly annoyed by his monotonous voice. “Well, okay, please!” “I DON'T KNOW! I don't know anything!” Peeves shouted happily. “Ha ha ha! I warned you: you should have said "please" before. Ha ha! Ha ha ha!” We heard Peeves whizzing off somewhere and Filch cursing furiously. “He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. “I hope we get out, but fuck off, Neville!” Neville had been tugging at Harry's sleeve for a minute or two now. “What do you want?” Harry said with displeasure, turning to him. As soon as we turned around, we immediately saw this very "what". At first, I thought I was just imagining it-after everything I've been through today, it would just be too much. However, what I saw was a reality, and a nightmarish one at that. I was wrong when I assumed that this door leads to another room. We were not in a room, but in a forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now I understood why the students were strictly forbidden to enter this corridor. A giant dog stared into our eyes, filling the entire hallway from floor to ceiling. It had three heads, three pairs of rolling, mad eyes, three noses twitching nervously and sniffing at uninvited guests, three open slobbery mouths with yellow fangs from which drool hung in ropes. For now, the dog remained relatively calm and only sniffed at us, staring at us with all six eyes. The only reason we're still alive is because our sudden appearance took the dog by surprise. But it seemed that the dog was already beginning to realize what had happened. This was evidenced by a low growl, reminiscent of distant thunderclaps, escaping from three mouths. Harry grabbed the door handle. Right now, it was a choice between death and Filch-and personally, I prefer Filch. In the blink of an eye, we were out the door, slamming it behind us, and running so fast that it looked like we were flying. Before escaping, I turned around and threw a locking spell at the door. Filch was no longer in the hallway. He probably left here to look for us somewhere else. But his absence didn't make us happy or sad-we didn't care right now. All we wanted was to get as far away from this monster as possible. We didn't stop until we were on the seventh floor by the portrait of a Fat Lady. Fortunately, she has already returned. “Where have you been?” she asked us, looking at our flushed, sweaty faces. “It doesn't matter," gasped Harry, panting, "piglet, piglet!” The portrait slid aside, and we made our way through a hole in the wall into the Common living room and collapsed wearily into armchairs, trembling from the long run and everything we had experienced. It took a long time before one of us broke the silence. Neville looked like he'd never talk again. “What do they think?” I was the first to find my voice. “It's necessary to think of something like this - to keep this dog at school. This creature clearly needs to exercise, not stay locked up. And Cerberus live in the area of the magical world adjacent to Greece. He's too cold here. Hermione came to her senses too, and her bad mood immediately returned. “Why do you need eyes, I'd like to know?” She asked with displeasure. “Didn't you see what that dog was standing on? “On the floor," Harry guessed. “Actually, I didn't look at his paws-I had enough heads.” “No, he wasn't standing on the floor, but on the hatch. It's clear to a fool that he's guarding something there.” Hermione stood up, giving us an indignant look. “I hope you're pleased with yourself," she said sharply. “We could all have been killed... or, even worse, expel from school. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed. I watched her go with my mouth open. “No, we don't mind,” I managed when Hermione was gone. “You'd think someone had invited her to come with them...”