Dark Deals: The Vampire Who Owns Hogwarts

Before venturing into the restricted section, Hermione suggested they visit Hagrid to find out how to handle the three-headed dog.

Since dogs have an exceptionally keen sense of smell, Harry's invisibility cloak might conceal them from sight, but it wouldn't mask their scent. It was unlikely to be of any use against the three-headed beast.

Harry and Ron agreed, confident that they could coax some useful information out of Hagrid. Everyone knew Hagrid was tight-lipped—unless, of course, there was a bottle of mead involved.

The three of them made their way to Hagrid's hut.

"Hagrid, what happened to you?"

Harry stared in surprise at Hagrid's bandaged face, his scorched clothes, and the large bald patch where his hair and beard had been singed away.

"Oh, this? Nothin' to worry about," Hagrid muttered guiltily. "Put too much wood on the fire when I was boiling water last night—got caught in the flames, is all."

Harry, Hermione, and Ron exchanged skeptical glances. Something about his explanation didn't add up.

"Hagrid, you didn't happen to do something against school rules, did you?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Course not! Don't be ridiculous!" Hagrid yelped, looking startled. "Don't go spreadin' nonsense, or I'll have yeh for slander!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes and stepped closer to examine him.

"This doesn't add up," she said. "You've got burn marks, yes, but those scratches—those aren't from fire."

Hagrid quickly tugged his coat tighter and took a step back, the movement making his whole hut tremble.

"Ah—well—maybe I scraped meself somewhere…" he mumbled.

"Hagrid, you've always wanted to raise a dragon," Hermione said, her sharp gaze locked on him. "Burn marks, animal scratches… you wouldn't happen to have one, would you?"

"I don't!" Hagrid blurted out. "Look, dragon claws and manticore scratches are completely different—"

He clamped a hand over his mouth, but the words had already escaped.

"So, you do have a manticore?" Hermione pressed. "Then what about the burn marks? According to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, manticores don't breathe fire."

Hagrid sighed in defeat. "Alright, alright. I may have… gone a bit too far last night," he admitted. "I was tryin' to crossbreed a manticore with a fire crab. Thought I'd hidden meself well, but—dunno how—the whole place lit up, and the creatures found me…"

Harry and Ron exchanged glances before giving him a few reassuring pats on his stomach.

At that moment, Hermione shot them a meaningful look.

Harry caught on immediately—he still had a mission to complete. He straightened and put on a skeptical expression.

"Hagrid, if a couple of fire crabs and a manticore could do this to you, maybe you're not as great with animals as you claim," he said, feigning doubt.

His acting was a bit dramatic, but Hagrid didn't seem to notice.

"Rubbish! I know creatures better than anyone!" Hagrid protested, looking offended.

"Well, we wouldn't have guessed," Ron added, catching on. "I bet it was just luck that you managed to handle that three-headed dog."

Hagrid's face turned red as he slammed his massive hand on the table.

"Are yeh jokin'? Three-headed dogs are easy! Just play some music, and they fall right asleep—"

His voice trailed off as his expression turned to horror.

"I shouldn't have said that," he groaned. "Forget what I just told yeh! Hey—where d'you think you're goin'?!"

But Harry, Ron, and Hermione had already dashed out of the hut. They ran all the way to the castle's entrance hall before stopping, panting for breath.

They glanced at each other, their expressions shifting from uncertainty to determination.

"No time to waste," Harry said, pulling out his invisibility cloak. "We have to get to the restricted section before Quirrell."

Ron and Hermione nodded, slipping under the cloak with him.

Guided by their memory of their last nighttime excursion, they reached the fourth-floor corridor in no time—only to find the door slightly ajar.

"Well, there's our answer," Harry whispered. "Looks like Quirrell's already gotten past Fluffy."

Staring at the half-open door, the reality of what they were about to face sank in. Harry turned to Ron and Hermione.

"If either of you wants to turn back, I won't blame you," he said. "Voldemort is my fight. I don't want you two caught up in this. Even if he comes back, at least you'll be safe."

"Don't be ridiculous," Ron said flatly.

"We go in together," Hermione added firmly.

Harry took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

As he stepped inside, a solemn feeling washed over him—like he was crossing into something inescapable.

But instead of the low growl of the three-headed dog, they were met with an eerie silence.

"Hermione, didn't you say Fluffy would be able to smell us?" Harry whispered. "Why isn't he reacting? Could the cloak actually be blocking our scent too?"

Frowning, Hermione took a few steps forward and suddenly pulled off the invisibility cloak.

"Hermione!"

"What are you doing?!"

Ignoring their alarmed whispers, Hermione raised her wand into the darkness.

"Lumos."

The tip of her wand flared to life, casting a glow over the room.

Harry and Ron stared in shock. Fluffy was standing motionless in the middle of the chamber.

One of his heads was frozen in an aggressive stance, eyes wide open, while the other two had their eyes shut as if they hadn't fully woken up.

But none of them moved.

None of them were breathing.

Harry hesitated before stepping closer and pressing a hand against the dog's fur. Instead of soft warmth, he felt rigid, lifeless skin—like wood.

"Quirrell turned Fluffy to stone," Hermione murmured. "With a spell we don't recognize."

Her voice was quiet, but the weight in it was unmistakable.

"We have to be ready," she added. "He's far more powerful than we thought."