A few days passed, and Stelle’s life at Hogwarts gradually fell into a comfortable routine.
Stelle had finally managed to fill the required length of parchment for her essay on the Cure for Boils in a way that barely met the local academic standards.
At this moment, the atmosphere in the Hufflepuff common room was much more relaxed than it had been a few days ago.
Hannah, Susan, and Stelle were huddled together, sorting through their books while discussing the big news from today’s Flying class.
“So, did you see it?” Hannah lowered her voice, her eyes wide and round.
“Malfoy snatched Neville’s Remembrall and was flying around showing off!
Then Harry took off after him, not only catching the Remembrall but executing a perfect dive right in front of Professor McGonagall!” “I heard Professor McGonagall took him away,” Susan chimed in, her tone a mix of worry and curiosity.
“Is she going to punish him?
First-years aren’t allowed to fly like that.” Stelle listened quietly, her fingers mindfully spinning her ash wand.
But when she heard the words “flying” and “diving,” an imperceptible spark flared in her golden eyes.
In her original world, she had suffered from a certain limitation—a restriction that made it impossible for her to truly take off under her own power, making even simple jumps feel clumsy and sluggish.
Various scans had shown nothing wrong with Stelle’s physical body, leading to theories that her vessel might have suffered a minor glitch when the Stellaron was loaded.
After that, March 7th had teased her relentlessly for “having no knees,” even going so far as to jump up and down right in front of her to prove a point.
The flying brooms of this world, primitive as they looked, seemed to offer a taste of gravity-defying freedom she had never experienced.
*To be able to fly using nothing but a broom.* The thought flashed through her mind.
*** Late at night, the common room gradually emptied.
Stelle lay in bed, listening to the rhythmic breathing of her roommates, her golden eyes exceptionally bright in the dark.
The daytime discussion about Harry’s flying incident was like a pebble tossed into the calm lake of her mind, sending ripples outward.
Simply finishing homework and attending classes according to the curriculum was no longer enough.
Aha’s prompt for the Joy Treasure Hunt still echoed in her ears: *”Go where the madness is!
Plunge where the absurdity lies!”* It was time for a proper night walk of Trailblazing.
Her target shouldn’t be the familiar kitchens anymore; it was time to conquer the mysterious, unexplored corners of the castle that were off-limits during the day.
She slipped out of bed soundlessly, put on her soft shoes, and glided out of the Hufflepuff common room like a grey shadow.
The castle at night was entirely different from the daytime.
Moonlight poured through the high windows, casting long, cold shadows of the suits of armor, making them look as if they could spring to life at any moment.
Instead of feeling afraid, Stelle felt the thrill of exploring the unknown—a deeply familiar sensation.
Guided by an almost instinctive sense of direction and a mysterious pull toward the unusual and the joyful, she traversed the winding corridors and silent staircases.
Just as she passed a corridor lined with sleeping portraits, the sound of hushed arguing and hurried, panting breath came from around the corner ahead.
The noises seemed to be getting closer.
“Hurry!
He’s right behind us!” came Ron Weasley’s terrified voice.
“I told you we shouldn’t have come out!” Hermione Granger’s voice was filled with a tearful, intense regret.
“Stop arguing, find a place to hide!” Harry Potter’s voice was kept very low, thick with urgency.
Stelle peered cautiously around the corner, just in time to see the three of them bolting out of another corridor like startled rabbits.
Their faces were pale, and their school robes were disheveled from running.
Behind them, a swinging lantern light was rapidly approaching, accompanied by Filch’s raspy, malicious muttering: “I smell you, little troublemakers, don’t think you can run…” and the scalp-prickling, sharp cry of Mrs.
Norris.
“This way!” Harry’s eyes locked onto Stelle.
Though startled by her appearance, he had no time to question it in the heat of the moment, and pointed down a path that looked like a dead end.
Without a single word of communication, the four of them instantly reached a silent agreement to run for their lives.
They bolted down the narrow corridor, their footsteps ringing loudly in the silent castle.
Filch’s lantern and curses pressed close behind them, and Mrs.
Norris seemed to constantly pinpoint their direction.
“Left!
Go left, quick!” Hermione gasped, directing them.
She seemed to know the layout of the castle better than the others.
They rushed down a short flight of stairs and squeezed into a recess filled with discarded suits of armor.
Holding their breath, they listened as Filch’s footsteps passed through the corridor directly above, their hearts leaping into their throats.
“It’s no good, he’ll loop back soon!” Ron whispered in despair.
“Keep moving!” Harry said, gritting his teeth.
They set off again, navigating the maze of the castle’s third floor like headless chickens.
Fear and exertion were draining their stamina.
Hermione had already started to sniffle quietly, and Ron kept looking back in panic.
Only Stelle, though running alongside them, maintained relatively steady breathing, her golden eyes scanning the dark surroundings.
“In here.” During a forced halt—as Filch’s lantern light threatened to appear from the far end of the corridor—Stelle suddenly pointed toward an extremely ordinary wooden door nearby.
The door bore several faint, inconspicuous scratch marks.
“This door was closed when we passed by earlier.
It’s slightly ajar now.” Her voice carried an unquestionable certainty.
There was no time to argue!
Harry shoved the door open, and the four of them filed in.
Ron, the last to squeeze through, gently pulled the door shut behind him.
Almost immediately, the light of Filch’s lantern and the cries of Mrs.
Norris slid past the crack in the door.
The room was pitch black, thick with dust and a hot, musky, foul scent characteristic of some massive beast.
They leaned against the cold door, panting heavily, their hearts thumping wildly as they listened to Filch lingering reluctantly outside.
“Maybe…
we’re safe?” Ron whispered, his voice still trembling.
At that moment, Hermione produced her wand and let out a shaky, quiet whisper of *”Lumos.”* The faint light dispersed a portion of the darkness.
And it illuminated the true horror of the room.
An enormously massive, black, three-headed dog was lying on the floor, fast asleep!
Its heavy breaths sounded like bellows.
Its three massive jaws were slightly parted, revealing yellow fangs as sharp as daggers.
Most terrifyingly, all three pairs of menacing eyes were currently closed.
It was clear that this dreadful creature had been sleeping when they intruded, and their frantic entrance had not yet awakened it.
“Merlin’s beard,” Ron gasped, his legs shaking so violently he almost collapsed.
Harry and Hermione were also pale with fear, covering their mouths tightly, their eyes wide with sheer terror.
But Stelle’s golden eyes held only intense concentration and a sudden, enlightened spark of interest.
Her gaze swept rapidly across the giant dog’s massive body, the heavy chain around its neck, and finally landed beneath one of its giant, furry paws—was there a trapdoor pressed beneath it?
“I see,” Stelle murmured, her eyes shining brilliantly.
“A hidden area guarded by a three-headed dog.
This definitely fits the criteria for a treasure hunt.
I wonder if the Elation Token, or something else of interest, is down there?” Outside the door, Filch’s footsteps finally faded away completely.
However, the sense of danger inside the room spiked dramatically.
One of the heads of Fluffy, the three-headed dog, twitched its nose in its sleep, letting out a low, threatening snort.
Its massive body shifted slightly.
“We have to get out of here!
Now!
Immediately!” Hermione urged in an whisper of absolute terror, grabbing Harry’s arm so tightly her nails dug into his skin.
Harry and Ron nodded frantically, their faces entirely devoid of color.
Stelle took one last, deep look at the giant dog and the trapdoor beneath its paws, as if carving the coordinates permanently into her mind.
Then, she allowed herself to be pulled by a terrified Hermione.
Alongside the others, with the absolute quietest movements, she edged toward the door, turned the handle, slipped through, and melted back into the dangerous shadows of the Hogwarts night, quietly closing the door behind them.