People who are carefree sleep soundly, which is to say, those with things weighing on their minds usually don't sleep well—and Eda was one of the latter.
Being inexplicably made the starting Seeker had been weighing on her all along, leaving her unable to eat or sleep properly.
It wasn't that Eda lacked mental resilience, or that she was afraid of embarrassment. If someone had told her she had an exam the next day, or had to fight someone, she wouldn't have been scared—on the contrary, she'd be excited, because those were things she was good at, and they didn't involve anyone else.
Quidditch was different.
It was a team sport, and the Seeker was an extremely important position—one that could determine the outcome of an entire match. Eda, who was a keyboard warrior with all her stats maxed out, had never actually played in a match. She had no confidence, so naturally she felt uneasy.
If the team really lost because of her, Eda could selfishly not care what the rest of the team thought—but she couldn't not care about how Professor McGonagall would feel. Eda didn't want to see disappointment in her eyes.
Now things were better. Eda didn't have to grit her teeth and play in the match anymore.
As long as Harry stayed healthy, she wouldn't have to take the field.
Calling her the backup Seeker was generous—she was more like a benchwarmer, a water girl, a bodyguard sitting on the sidelines.
In Friday's Potions class, the usual scene didn't play out—Snape didn't even ask Eda a single question this time.
The two of them coexisted peacefully—so peacefully it felt unnatural, as if the past two years of hostility had been something the students had imagined.
According to an anonymous rumor, the reason Snape never washed his hair was because the shampoo on the market had ties to the Potter family. But no one dared confirm it—who wouldn't be terrified of getting flicked in the face with Snape's greasy hair?
That evening, Oliver Wood took Harry to the Quidditch pitch to run him through some basic orientation training, teach him some Quidditch knowledge, and help advise him on what kind of broom to buy.
Harry was nothing like Eda. For Eda, buying a broomstick was like a death sentence, while Harry could casually consider the most expensive models—why?
Just three words: his family was fucking loaded!!
The Potter family had been around for who knows how many generations, supposedly tracing back to Hardwin Potter of the 12th century. By the 20th century, Harry's great-grandfather Henry Potter had even been a member of the Wizengamot and fought to protect the International Statute of Secrecy.
And Harry's grandfather, Fleamont Potter, invented Sleekeazy's Hair Potion (hmm, interesting discovery). Although the company no longer belonged to the Potters, the bestselling product had already made them fabulously wealthy.
Both Harry and Eda had lost their parents young, but Harry was a textbook rich heir, with a vault full of gold waiting for him in Gringotts.
Eda, on the other hand, was a girl from the slums—a world apart. There was no comparison.
After curfew, the Gryffindor common room fell quiet, the only sound coming from the crackling fire in the hearth. The little lions had all gone to bed, but Eda and the twins snuck out silently—they were heading to the 3rd floor tonight to investigate something.
Because of Eda, Gryffindor had lost a fair number of house points—but also, because of her, they had avoided losing many more. Thanks to her Disillusionment Charm, the twins had been caught far less often during their nighttime adventures, meaning fewer points docked and fewer detentions.
All in all, Eda's impact on Gryffindor's quest for the House Cup was basically a wash—unless she turned over a new leaf and became a perfect little goody-goody.
Fred walked in front, Eda in the middle, and George brought up the rear—the same formation their nighttime excursions had followed for the past two years, with no sign of changing this year.
Eda actually preferred walking in front, but out of consideration for Fred's pride, she had never brought it up.
A man's pride needs to be cared for—boys are no different.
Climbing flight after flight of stairs and passing through corridor after corridor, the three students who refused to sleep at night finally arrived at the far end of the 3rd floor.
It had been barely two weeks since the term started, and Dumbledore's warning still echoed in their ears—yet here Eda and the twins stood, curious to see what kind of "accident" could cause such a painful death.
Eda stepped forward and whispered to the locked door, "Alohomora!"
With a click, the lock gave way and the door opened. So much for security—the lock really couldn't keep anyone out.
Eda pushed open the door, and the three of them filed in one by one. What greeted them was the corridor on the right side of the 3rd floor—and a dog.
A dog so massive it filled the space from floor to ceiling. It had three heads, each with a pair of gleaming, savage eyes. Three twitching noses sniffed in their direction, and three mouths dripped with saliva, strings of it hanging like sticky ropes from its yellowed fangs.
The three-headed dog stood completely still, and their Disillusionment Charm had absolutely no effect on it.
It stared curiously at the three tiny intruders. How odd, the dog thought—more little snacks visiting two nights in a row? Were these its extra portions?
The beast lowered its massive body and slowly began creeping toward them, each of its three heads focusing on one of the students—perfectly divided, so no head would feel left out. It had accidentally let yesterday's "dessert" escape, but it wouldn't let tonight's get away.
The moment Eda saw the dog, she understood why Dumbledore had felt a flimsy lock was enough.
In Greek mythology, the three-headed dog guarded the entrance to the underworld; in the wizarding world, it was just as fearsome. A creature like this wasn't something just anyone could handle.
Eda waved her wand in wide circles in front of her, and flames burst from the tip of her wand, forming a towering wall of fire between them and the three-headed dog.
The beast was thoroughly displeased—tonight's "desserts" were far more unruly than last night's. Last night's had simply run away, but these ones dared to set it on fire! Enraged, the three-headed dog began to bark furiously, its deafening roars shaking the walls, and its foul breath was enough to make anyone gag.
The trio needed to get out—fast. That kind of barking was bound to attract Filch or one of the professors.
If they got caught now, they'd be in for a nasty combination of detention and point deductions. To get punished without even seeing anything worthwhile? Totally not worth it.
George twisted the doorknob and slipped out into the corridor with Fred following closely behind. Eda directed her flames to take the form of a massive firebird that soared straight at the three-headed dog.
One of the dog's heads opened wide and swallowed the firebird in a single gulp. But by the time it turned its attention back to the tiny intruders, Eda and the twins were long gone from the hallway.
Behind them, the corridor echoed again with the dog's furious howls. Once the door was securely locked again, the three of them hurried away and made for the Gryffindor Tower.
Just after they left, Filch and Mrs. Norris arrived, following close behind. Filch, having found nothing but empty corridors, scowled and began inspecting the area closely, hoping to find any sign that someone had been there.
After waking the dreaming Fat Lady, Eda and the twins returned to the common room.
With their Disillusionment Charms lifted, the three of them sank into the armchairs by the fireplace and began to whisper among themselves.
"Your eyes aren't just for breathing, right? You both saw it too?" Fred asked. Even though they'd been blocked by the three-headed dog, he still felt like they'd gotten something out of the trip.
"Nobody breathes from their eyes, but of course. That dog was guarding a trapdoor," Eda said, recalling the scene in the corridor. Beneath the dog's massive paws was a trapdoor—an enormous one, impossible to miss unless you were blind. Dumbledore had placed such a dangerous creature there for a reason—it was clearly guarding whatever lay beneath.
"There's definitely something extraordinary hidden under that trapdoor," George added. "There might even be more guards down there, like that dog... Wait—three-headed dog…"
Eda and the twins spoke in unison, "Hagrid!" All three had the same realization. Hagrid had once bought a three-headed dog from some Greek fellow and kept it in the Forbidden Forest. He'd even boasted about it to them once.
The twins immediately started grumbling about Hagrid, clearly unhappy that he'd kept such a dangerous creature. Of course, their biggest complaint was that the dog had gotten in their way.
Sitting in the armchair, Eda began to think back over recent events. Two heads are better than one, so she asked, "Do you guys remember the break-in at Gringotts?"
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