The Greedy Frog
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HP: DnD Chapter 13
🕑 Added 2024-11-27 19:18:35 +0000 UTCChapter 13: Not The Most Peaceful Circle
“B-But why, Father?” Draco’s voice was shaky. “Why wasn't he expelled?”
Standing at the gates of Hogwarts, Draco’s question irritated Lucius.
“Draco, why don’t you answer that for me instead?” Lucius’s eyebrows drew into a frown. “What made you think it wise to make yourself look like a villain in front of your whole class? You didn’t just bully that Mudblood; you humiliated him in front of people who would speak against you.”
Draco was confused. “Did someone speak against me, Father?”
It was hard for him to believe. While some disliked him—Muggles and Potter’s lot—most Muggles feared the purebloods and wouldn’t dare come forward.
Unless…
“Did Potter say something—”
“Enough!” Lucius roared. “I don’t care what you do inside the walls of Hogwarts, but remember that those things must remain there. Hidden and unheard. Do not let anyone know of your actions.”
Draco understood something serious had happened but also that his father had dealt with it.
“Even if you break someone’s arm or neck, ensure not a soul dares to speak against you.” Lucius jabbed his index finger into Draco’s chest, almost hurting him. “Remember this, or you will suffer.”
Draco was visibly shaken by his father’s words, but he knew that showing any more weakness would only invite more wrath. So he nodded.
“T-This will not happen again, Father,” he said. “You won’t hear of it again.”
Lucius’s scrunched nose and flaring nostrils spoke volumes of his anger. Without another word, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the mist and the magical hills of Hogwarts—leaving without so much as a goodbye or a glance back at his son.
Draco stood trembling, his heart unsteady and eyes damp.
“I-I—” he bit his lip, his teeth pressing into the flesh. “You will not hear of it again, Father,” he murmured, undeterred by the fact that Lucius had long since left. “You will never hear about them again.”
…
…
[Midnight — Hogwarts Halls]
The joyful shouts of students had faded into the quiet of the night, leaving only a few low, rhythmic snores behind certain doors.
Classes at Hogwarts were always demanding, exhausting those unaccustomed to the world of magic. Even those with prior exposure found the rigorous curriculum tiring by day’s end.
Most students didn’t mind the rule of absolute silence after curfew, content to rest early. During the summer, curfew extended to 10:30 p.m., but with winter approaching, it was strictly set at 10.
While some accepted the rule, others relished the library’s privilege, and still, there were those who found it most unpleasant—a barrier to their midnight adventures.
“Why am I here again?” Damien asked, eyeing the two boys crouched in the empty halls.
“Hush!” Ron pressed a finger to his lips. “You can’t let Filch know we’re here.”
Harry nodded, backing up Ron’s words. “And Mrs. Norris can sniff us out if we’re not careful.”
Damien remembered the cat, just as unpleasant as the caretaker, Argus Filch. But he still didn’t understand why they needed to sneak around at night, hiding from both the caretaker and his cat.
“Damien’s right,” Hermione frowned at the boys. “We don’t need to do this now. We have Snape’s class early tomorrow.”
Damien didn’t know Hermione well, but he knew more than enough about her.
She was smart, punctual, and generally a stickler for rules—but also cunning, hot-headed, and ever ready to stand at the front lines for Harry.
“We could’ve turned Mrs. Norris to stone earlier and snuck inside. Filch is less active during the day, right?”
Her words made Damien raise a skeptical eyebrow.
‘She’s scarier than these two,’ he thought.
They were here to recover something Filch had confiscated from Harry and Ron. Because Harry had once helped Damien, and Damien had offered to return the favor.
A mission Damien might have declined if he’d known about the intricacies earlier.
“We have to get them tonight,” Ron explained. “Fred and George gave me a stock of dungbombs they plan to sell. I need to recover them before morning.”
“Can’t you just tell them Filch caught you?” Damien asked. Ron shook his head quickly.
“They gave them to me because they thought Filch wouldn’t suspect a second-year,” Ron explained. “But apparently, he chases anyone with orange hair.”
Damien could guess why. Ron’s brothers, Fred and George Weasley, were known troublemakers. Over their years at Hogwarts, they’d earned the suspicion of every teacher and caretaker alike.
‘And being their brother doesn’t help Ron’s case,’ Damien thought, ‘especially with Harry’s group causing their own share of mischief.’
“But how do you plan to steal them back?” Hermione asked, a practical concern. “I don’t think any of us are exactly skilled at thievery.”
The two boys exchanged glances, then looked at Damien and Hermione, realizing the truth in her words.
“We’ll figure that out once we find where Filch stashed them,” Ron said, not wanting to consider the difficulty ahead.
‘This might be a bad idea…’ Damien thought, sensing the uncertainty in the boys.
Yet he’d made a promise and couldn’t go back on it without seeming unreliable to Harry and his friends.
‘It may be my only chance to make friends.’
Being close to Harry meant he’d not only have companions but the powerful Potter name behind him.
“Filch goes to the room at the end of the hallway, near the cafeteria, about three times a day,” Damien offered. “At least, that’s how often I pass by and see him turning there.”
Hermione perked up. “I remember seeing him snatch sour candies from Hannah Abbott once. He claimed they weren’t allowed in the hallway,” she frowned. “It wasn’t in the rulebook, of course.”
The professors and the headmaster didn’t believe Filch misused his authority, but he often made life unnecessarily difficult for students he disliked.
“Then let’s go,” Damien suggested, feeling he was already too involved to back out. “Filch won’t be around here again for at least thirty minutes.”
Everyone looked at him, surprised.
“How do you know that?” Ron asked, impressed.
“I spent a few nights in the library studying British history. I saw Filch pass by exactly at 11:25,” Damien explained. “So, considering the hour, we have a little over half an hour.”
Hermione looked intrigued. “You studied Britain’s magical history at this hour?” She sounded impressed.
“Not now, Hermione,” Ron interjected. “Harry, Damien, scout the edges while Hermione and I go from the left. We know Filch’s routine, but Mrs. Norris could show up anywhere.”
‘That’s true,’ Damien thought. ‘Never seen that cat near the library, though.’
Finally agreeing on the plan, the group moved silently, taking care not to make a sound over the creaky floorboards.
“Do you know any scent-removal spell?” Damien asked the spectacled boy, aware that he was blessed in spellcasting.
“No.” Unfortunately, this was one thing Harry didn't know. “I asked Hermione the same, but she doesn’t either.”
Both had the same idea—using a scent-removal spell to hide from the cat. But now, they had to think of another way.
“What if we stun the cat?” Harry asked, pointing at his staff. “Just a simple…”
“Filch will make leaving the quarters a nightmare if we do that,” Damien said, dismissing the thought. “A scratch on that cat, and that strange-haired man will raise hell.”
Harry couldn't deny it, so they continued on, with Hermione and Ron approaching from the left.
Those two were keeping an eye on the upper floors, which appeared clearer from Harry and Damien’s left.
“Oh no…” Damien raised his arm, causing Harry to pause. “Speak of the devil…”
A few meters away, walking down the dimly lit hallway, was the bony, scraggly-furred cat, sniffing around suspiciously.
Luckily, they were still well-hidden by the pillars. The cat could smell something off but couldn’t see them.
“What do we do?” Harry whispered, nearly raising his wand to cast a Stupefy at the cat.
Damien quickly waved him off. “Not so aggressive, Harry… let’s think of something else.”
“Like what?” Harry asked, watching Damien try to recall any spell that could work.
Most spells he knew were offensive, and even his defensive ones wouldn’t be helpful here.
“Harry…” Damien looked at him. “Do you have even one dungbomb left?”
Ron and Harry had been handling the entire stock, and Damien hoped there was at least one left.
“Sadly, I don’t,” Harry replied. “All I have is the empty box they came in.”
“That’s it!” Damien said, relieved. “Where is it?”
Harry pulled out a small box from his pocket, surprising Damien—he’d expected the bombs to be in a bigger box.
“How many were there, anyway?” Damien asked, and Harry explained.
“This was the box for the ones we used. The rest are with Filch.”
Damien didn’t ask further. He opened his palm, and Harry handed over the box. Once opened, the smell made them both scrunch their noses.
“I can’t even imagine how bad this would smell if one went off,” Damien muttered, but this only piqued Harry’s curiosity.
“What are you planning to do with the box?”
Damien smiled slightly. “Watch.”
He drew his wand, pointed it at the box, and muttered, “Ventus Minima!”
With the incantation, a weakened gust of air whisked the stench from the box, carrying it toward the cat.
“Nice!” Harry cheered, watching the cat nearly gag from the smell.
The cat lowered its head and shook it violently, trying to rid itself of the stench, before running off in the opposite direction.
“It wouldn’t have made so much noise if the smell hadn’t gotten in its mouth too,” Damien chuckled, closing the box and signaling to Hermione and Ron to join them.
“That was impressive,” Harry praised.
“Professor Flitwick taught us about spell forms, and I asked him about minimizing spells. He was impressed with my curiosity and taught me the Minima version,” Damien explained.
But Harry’s amazement quickly faded. “You know,” he paused, looking at Damien, “you’re Hermoine, but male.”
“I am not sure if I like that,” Damien frowned, unsure how to feel about the comparison, while Harry smirked. “You weren’t supposed to.”
As they continued with Harry’s teasing, they finally reunited with the others.
“What’s up?” Ron asked, noticing Harry’s smirk and Damien’s frown.
“Nothing,” Damien said. “But we need to hurry. The cat’s running in the opposite direction, so we don’t have long.”
Ron and Harry were a bit lost, but Hermione quickly understood.
“If it’s gone where Filch went, it’ll be back with him!”
Her gasp made them anxious, realizing that they no longer had a time advantage.
“We need to move.” Damien urged, striding toward the room.
The group hurried after him, reaching the doorway five minutes later—only to hear a familiar voice.
“Are you sure it was students, Mrs. Norris?”
They froze at Filch’s voice.
“What now?” Ron whispered, looking to Harry.
“We’ll need a distraction,” Harry suggested. “Some of us stay out here while the rest go in and out, taking the dungbombs.”
“But who’s going to distract him?” Hermione asked.
“I will.” Harry stepped forward and looked at Ron. “I’ll need you on the right while I go left. We’ll lead both the cat and Filch away.”
Ron nodded, but Damien pointed out a problem.
“The cat’s manageable, but if Filch sees you, it’ll be trouble. Whoever distracts Filch needs someone else casting spells to confuse him.”
“Like how?” Hermione asked.
“Can you cast any blinding or tripping spells?” Damien asked, and Hermione nodded.
“I know Lumos and can make him trip,” she said.
“Then Harry, you distract Filch. Ron, keep Mrs. Norris busy,” Damien instructed. “Hermione, go from the opposite side and cast spells to confuse him. With any luck, he’ll waste time chasing shadows.”
They agreed on the plan, but Ron raised another concern.
“The door’s locked. How will you get in?”
Damien grinned. “I’ve learned a few spells for this—better than Alohomora.”
The group was curious, but they had no time to ask.
“Now, go!” Damien ordered as Filch’s footsteps grew closer.
“Looks like someone’s in trouble today, Mrs. Norris~” Filch’s voice echoed.
Harry took off with loud footsteps, prompting Filch to gasp in excitement. “Mrs. Norris, we’ve found them!”
Without hesitation, Filch and the cat dashed toward the sound.
“Stop! Or I’ll have to inform the headmaster!” Filch called, but any seasoned student knew he’d report them no matter what.
Following the plan, they split up, and the sounds of footsteps confused Filch.
“Mrs. Norris?” He heard footsteps on the other side. “Looks like there’s another one—go after them, I’ll handle this!”
The cat meowed and darted in the opposite direction.
“Go!” Damien whispered to Hermione. “Follow him, keep quiet, and cast your spells when needed.”
Hermione nodded, pulled out her handkerchief to cover her face, and snuck after Filch, leaving Damien to tackle the door.
After moments of them spreading out, the boy took a deep breath as they all ran far from where he stood, shaking his head.
“There was no chance of me being the one running,” he muttered, knowing he took the lead just to avoid being the first in line to get caught.
Not to mention that there wasn’t a traditional lock on the door but chains, likely enchanted, that blocked entry. Meaning, Alohomora wasn’t going to work.
‘But I can get through it,’ Damien thought, grinning as he noticed a small opening, just wide enough to fit a football but not large enough for an entire person.
Fortunately, that didn’t matter to Damien, because—
“As long as my head fits…”
[Feline’s Escape: Allows the user to pass through small crevices by shifting bones and organs without harm, as long as the opening can fit the size of their head.]
“…my body fits.”
He squirmed through the gap, sliding his body like a snake, his bones and organs momentarily rearranging. Damien slipped through the small opening, finding himself in a dark but intriguing room.
“Lumos.”
He marveled at the sheer volume of items stacked inside, from brooms to sports equipment, even expensive tools and magical artifacts.
He wondered if Filch had acquired all this legally—by following the rulebook—or by inventing petty rules to confiscate things from students.
Though tempted by various items, Damien knew that taking more than the dungbombs would only make the theft obvious.
‘Or maybe I could take a few other items to make it seem like a general robbery,’ he considered briefly but decided against it. Taking only the dungbombs would keep other professors from being involved.
Thankfully, they were easy to find. The boxes were piled in the far corner, tied with brown ribbons. Familiar with the box design, Damien quickly identified them.
Conveniently, the boxes were next to a noticeboard, meaning they wouldn’t be immediately visible unless Filch looked for them specifically.
Damien grabbed the boxes and made his way back to the gap he’d come through.
‘Can I take this with me?’ he wondered, realizing the box wasn’t part of his body. ‘Only one way to find out.’
As he pressed through the gap, his bones and skin deformed around the box, allowing him to slip out, box in tow.
‘Looks like I can carry things with me, as long as they’re not too big.’
The discovery pleased him—it might come in handy in future Dungeon Trials.
“Damien!” A whisper caught his attention. Glancing up, he saw Hermione on the floor above, signaling him to hurry.
He flashed her a smile and hurried out, marking the success of their first adventure together.
Dangerous and ridiculous as it was, Damien couldn’t help but smile.
‘Maybe it’s not so bad to have a few friends,’ he thought.
Especially if those friends brought along such thrilling adventures.
