Dumbledore walked swiftly down the dim corridors of Hogwarts, Harry cradled gently in his arms. David hurried to keep pace, his legs straining to match the Headmaster's long strides. As they approached the Devil's Snare, Dumbledore flicked his wand effortlessly, and a ball of fire burst into existence above them. The enchanted vines recoiled instantly, slithering into the shadows like frightened serpents.
With another wave of his wand, the stone slabs on the floor began to levitate, aligning themselves into a staircase that led up to the trapdoor. David watched in awe, barely hearing Dumbledore's warning: "Be careful, they may be a little bumpy."
He gingerly placed a foot on the floating stone, which wobbled beneath his weight. Step by step, he climbed with cautious precision, avoiding the edges to maintain his balance. By the time he reached the top, his heart was racing.
Dumbledore was waiting for him, standing calmly by the trapdoor with an unconscious Harry still in his arms. David's three-headed dog, cowered in the corner, each head vying to hide beneath its enormous paws. When it sensed David's presence, it perked up, whimpering and wagging its tail in hopes of forgiveness.
David sighed. "This silly dog..."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he watched the interaction. "You can keep it in the Forbidden Forest, or send him home. It's your choice."
After a moment's thought, David decided. "I'll take him back home. If I leave him here, I'll probably return next semester to find the Forbidden Forest in ruins."
Dumbledore chuckled. "Very well. I'll ask Hagrid to arrange the transport. Speaking of which, your grandfather is in Romania. Something happened at the dragon reserve, and they needed his help."
David nodded, understanding. As a renowned Magizoologist, Newt Scamander was often summoned to resolve magical creature crises worldwide.
They continued their journey through the corridors, and David's curiosity got the better of him. "Professor, did you learn anything about the R organization?"
Dumbledore's expression grew solemn. "Not much, but there were some leads. Your grandfather knows more about it than I do. You should ask him once he's back. But for now, our priority is getting Harry to the hospital wing."
David glanced at his unconscious friend and winced. "Yeah... right."
They reached the second floor, and Dumbledore turned to him. "I'll take Harry from here. You should get some rest."
David agreed, exhaustion finally settling into his bones. He made his way back to Gryffindor Tower, his mind buzzing with the night's events.
As he approached the portrait of the Fat Lady, she leaped up from her chair, startling him. "David! How did it go? Did you stop Snape?"
"What?" David blinked. "How do you know about that?"
"Oh, don't play coy!" she exclaimed, waving a hand dismissively. "The whole common room is talking about how you confronted Snape to protect the Philosopher's Stone!"
David's jaw dropped. "Wait, who said it was Snape? It was Quirrell!"
But the Fat Lady wasn't listening. She was already swinging her portrait open, muttering about how she always knew Snape was up to no good.
As David stepped into the common room, a deafening roar of applause erupted. The lounge was crammed with Gryffindors, their faces alight with admiration. Red and gold banners hung from the walls, fluttering with enchanted words:
"Snape to Azkaban! Justice at last!"
"Victory for Gryffindor! Down with Snape!"
"I always knew he was evil!"
David's eyes widened. He scanned the room, his gaze stopping on one enormous banner that shimmered in gold letters:
"Need a stinky egg? Guaranteed to make Snape's departure even more delightful! Contact George or Fred—limited stock!"
He sighed. How much did the Gryffindors hate Snape?
"David!" Ron's voice rang out as he pushed through the crowd, followed closely by Hermione, Neville, and the Weasley twins.
Fred grinned and clapped him on the back. "You were brilliant!"
"Yeah!" George added, eyes twinkling. "Though it's a shame you didn't take us along."
"We'd have taken care of Snape in no time," Fred declared, his chest puffed out. "Might've even gone easy on him if he begged."
"But where's Harry?" Ron asked, his face creased with worry.
"He's in the hospital wing," David explained. "He got hurt—"
His words were drowned out by the loud creaking of the portrait door behind him. He turned, expecting to see Harry awake and well, but instead, a piece of paper floated through the entrance. It hovered in the center of the room, folded itself into a mouth, and then began to speak in a familiar, cold voice:
"I'm glad you all had such fun at my expense," Snape's voice drawled from the paper. "Gryffindor is hereby deducted one hundred points for your... 'kindness'... and for disturbing my evening with your noise."
The paper-mouthed Snape sneered at them before crumbling into ashes.
A stunned silence followed. Then, Hermione's face turned crimson with anger. "How could he do that?!"
David looked around the room, his heart sinking as the celebration banners continued to flutter, completely unaware of the hundred-point deduction that had just plunged Gryffindor's chances of winning the House Cup.
The night that began with victory now ended with an echo of Snape's vengeance lingering in the common room.