" Where is Professor Dracula now?"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood at the door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, peering cautiously inside. Harry's voice was soft, almost a whisper, as if he feared disturbing the chaos within.
But it quickly became clear that their quiet inquiry would go unheard. The classroom was a scene of utter pandemonium.
Demons—or at least students acting like them—were dancing wildly around the room. The Weasley twins stood atop a table, leaping up and down, waving a string of dark magic warning bells like makeshift instruments. A Gryffindor and a Hufflepuff student faced each other, casting spells back and forth in what seemed like a friendly duel, while a crowd of enthusiastic upperclassmen cheered them on. Hufflepuff students munched on snacks, watching the spectacle with glee.
Amid the chaos, a handsome young wizard in Hufflepuff robes was desperately trying to restore order. He darted between groups of students, pleading with them to settle down, but his efforts were in vain.
"Harry! Little Lolo! What are you doing here?" Fred and George spotted the trio at the door and waved their jingling bells enthusiastically. "Come join the fun! This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!"
Ron's face turned bright red at the mention of his embarrassing nickname. "Fred! George!" he growled, rolling up his sleeves as if ready to charge at his brothers. But Harry grabbed the back of his hood and yanked him back.
"Ron, focus!" Harry hissed. "We're here for a reason."
Ron glared at the twins but reluctantly settled down, muttering under his breath.
Hermione, ever the pragmatist, quickly approached the frazzled Hufflepuff student. "Excuse me senior, can we ask you something?"
The boy turned, wiping sweat from his forehead. "No need to call me 'senior.' I'm Cedric Diggory," he said with a tired smile. "You're first-years, right? What brings you to a third-year class?"
"We're looking for Professor Dracula," Harry explained. "Is he here?"
Cedric shook his head. "Sorry, he just left. Said he had something to take care of. No idea when he'll be back."
Harry's shoulders slumped in disappointment. The trio exchanged uneasy glances before reluctantly leaving the chaotic classroom.
As they stepped into the hallway, they nearly collided with Professor McGonagall, who was striding toward the classroom with a stern expression.
"Hello, Professor McGonagall," the three stammered, but she swept past them without a word, her focus entirely on the unruly class.
"This is the most chaotic class in the entire castle!" her voice boomed from inside the room. "I could hear the noise from halfway across the main tower! And you two—Fred and George Weasley! Detention again! I've had enough of your antics!"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged nervous glances, silently pitying the third-years. At the same time, Harry and Ron couldn't help but feel a small sense of relief—at least their class wasn't the worst, according to Professor McGonagall.
"What do we do now?" Hermione whispered as they retreated down the corridor. "Dumbledore and Professor Dracula are both gone. I'm certain Quirrell is going to steal the Philosopher's Stone today!"
Ron and Hermione turned to Harry, their expressions a mix of worry and determination.
Harry's face was pale, but his eyes burned with resolve. "Then we'll have to do what the letter said," he said quietly. "I'll sneak into the restricted area on the fourth floor and get the Stone before Quirrell does."
"You're mad!" Ron blurted out, his voice echoing down the hallway.
Professor McGonagall's lecturing paused, and the trio froze. Ron quickly clapped a hand over his mouth, and Harry and Hermione dragged him away before they could attract further attention.
Once they reached the quieter entrance courtyard, Hermione turned to Harry, her voice firm. "Harry, you can't do this! The protections in the restricted area are designed to guard the Stone. You're just a first-year—it's too dangerous!"
"Hermione's right," Ron added. "And what if Quirrell's already there? You'd be walking straight into a trap!"
"So what?" Harry shot back, his voice rising with emotion. "Don't you get it? If Quirrell gets the Stone, Voldemort will come back! Do you remember what happened when he tried to take over the wizarding world? If he succeeds, Hogwarts will be destroyed—or turned into a school for dark magic! Do you think he'll spare you or your families?"
He took a deep breath, his hands trembling. "If Voldemort returns, I'd rather die fighting than live under his rule. He killed my parents. I won't let him win."
Hermione's eyes softened. "You're right, Harry," she said quietly. "But you don't have to do this alone."
"Yeah, mate," Ron chimed in, slinging an arm around Harry's shoulders. "Did you really think we'd let you go by yourself?"
Harry blinked, surprised. "You mean… you'll come with me?"
"Of course!" Hermione said, her tone fierce. "We're in this together. But we need a plan. I'll look through my books—there might be something useful we can use."
Ron grinned. "And don't forget your invisibility cloak. If we're lucky, we can sneak past Quirrell without him even noticing."
Harry's eyes widened. "Wait… all three of us?"
"Don't be daft, Harry," Ron said, clapping him on the back. "You didn't think we'd let you have all the fun, did you?"
Hermione nodded firmly. "We're a team. Whatever happens, we face it together."
Harry felt a surge of gratitude. For the first time since receiving the mysterious letter, he didn't feel so alone. "Alright," he said, a small smile breaking through his anxiety. "Tonight, we go after the Stone."