Harry Potter: From Little Wizard to White Lord

"Sixty points! How many questions do I have to answer in class to earn that many back?"

"Harry! Potter! You didn't just crash into Malfoy, you crashed into the House Cup! Good heavens--"

"Who's Heavens?" Ron muttered beside her.

Hermione shot him a fierce glare.

Harry was in a terrible mood. The terrifying encounter that afternoon, followed by Professor McGonagall's hours-long scolding, had left him shaken. He didn't even try to argue back.

Every passing Gryffindor student made sure to toss a teasing comment his way:

"Oi, Potter, we lost sixty points. What exactly did you do?"

"Harry, I heard you knocked Malfoy flat on his face? Brilliant. But how are you planning to earn the points back?"

Most were just joking. No one seemed as bothered by the lost points as Hermione. After all, losing sixty was a small price if it meant putting Malfoy in his place.

Harry didn't respond. He just hunched over the long table, shoveling cold meat pie into his mouth. He was starving.

Ron watched enviously, then reached out to grab a piece for himself, only for Hermione to slap his hand with her wand.

"That's Harry's. You already ate."

"But he makes it look so tasty..."

Hermione ignored him.

She kept rambling the entire time Harry ate, but once they were back in the Gryffindor common room, her tone shifted to worried concern.

"You're doing detention with Malfoy? Where?"

"Trophy Room. We're polishing cups," Harry mumbled.

"Just the two of you?"

"And Mrs. Norris. She's... supervising."

Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, was disturbingly clever.

She prowled Hogwarts at night, sniffing out rule-breaking students like a furry security system. Even Hermione, who adored cats, found her unnerving.

She was gaunt, with matted gray fur, bulging eyes, and a spectral stare that could give a ghost a heart attack.

Ron shivered and clutched Scabbers to his chest.

His experiences last summer had left him deeply wary of cats.

"Maybe don't go," he said. "Or ask the professor to change the arrangement. At least make sure you're not stuck with Malfoy."

Hermione nodded quickly. Malfoy was sneaky, Harry didn't stand a chance in a fair fight, let alone one under Filch's nose.

"I want to go..."

Harry's voice was low. "Professor McGonagall said my dad used to play Quidditch. There's still a trophy in that room with his name on it. I... I just want to see it."

Neither Ron nor Hermione said anything after that.

But when Harry finished his homework later that night and headed for the Trophy Room, he found them silently trailing after him.

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure Malfoy doesn't hex your eyebrows off," Ron replied, standing tall like a loyal knight.

Hermione crossed her arms. "I'm just here to stop you both from fighting again. If Gryffindor loses any more points, we'll be in the negatives."

Harry smiled, touched. They were worried about him.

"Alright, but stay hidden. Don't let Filch or Mrs. Norris see you. And definitely not Malfoy, he'd scream bloody murder and accuse you of sneaking around."

They nodded.

Harry led the way, carrying a lantern. Hermione and Ron tiptoed behind, silent as shadows. They reached the third floor, where the Trophy Room lights were already glowing in the distance.

Filch was waiting at the door, holding a torch.

Hermione and Ron ducked behind a corner as his raspy voice rang out.

"Harry Potter! You're not slipping away from detention, not tonight. You lot should count yourselves lucky. In the old days, we used chains and whips. Now, hand over your wands!"

From inside came Malfoy's unmistakable whine. "Here, you old codger. And don't you dare scratch it! If there's even one mark, I'll have my father sack you. He's on the Board, you know!"

The Trophy Room echoed with their bickering. Not long after, Filch limped away, muttering, while Mrs. Norris stayed behind at the door, twitching her whiskers.

Hermione and Ron peeked out from their hiding spot, watching closely, ready to jump in at the first sign of trouble.

They weren't expecting what came next.

A voice behind them said, "What are you two up to?"

Ron clutched his chest like an opera singer about to hit the high note, eyes bulging in terror.

"Silencio!"

A silencing charm hit him squarely in the mouth. He tried to shout, but no sound came out.

Hermione, to her credit, clapped a hand over her own mouth before she screamed. She turned, eyes wide.

It was Vaughn.

He stood in the dim corridor light, dressed in a woolen pajama set, with Fruity curled lazily at his feet.

He was holding a leash. And at the other end of it, floating in the air, was Peeves the Poltergeist.

Peeves looked furious but motionless, his eyes bulging and mouth frozen in a snarl. Whatever spell Vaughn had used had turned him into a hovering, balloon-like decoration.

"Vaughn, what are you doing? And what's going on with him?"

"I'm taking Peeves out for a walk," Vaughn said, cheerful as ever.

"See, after I changed the writing outside the Slytherin common room, he's been telling everyone it was me. I thought maybe he had some... unresolved feelings. So I've been bonding with him all week. We're friends now. Right, Peeves?"

He gave the leash a tug. Peeves bobbed in the air, eyes rolling dramatically, head nodding against his will.

Ron pressed his back flat to the wall, clearly trying to blend into the stones. He looked terrified of being next.

Even Hermione was too stunned to speak.

Everyone hated Peeves. But no one could do anything about him. He wasn't a ghost, and he wasn't exactly alive. He was... something in-between. Most spells didn't affect him at all.

Hermione's eyes sparkled with curiosity. She wanted to know how Vaughn had done it.

Vaughn seemed to sense her thoughts. He gave her a knowing smile.

"Found the trick in the library. I'll teach you sometime. But first, we've got another problem to deal with."

A sleek shape slinked past Ron's feet. Round eyes gleamed like moons as they scanned the corridor.

Mrs. Norris.

That bony, unpleasant cat looked like it had been reanimated from a museum display. Just seeing her made most students uncomfortable.

But to Hermione and Ron's shock, Vaughn didn't shy away.

He knelt down, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a dried fish treat.

"Here, girl."

"Mrrowww."

Mrs. Norris let out a noise that sounded like a ghost caught in a pipe. Hermione and Ron braced themselves, expecting her to dash off and tattle to Filch.

Instead, she lowered her head and delicately began munching the fish.

Only Fruity seemed displeased, tail swishing in annoyance.

Ron began waving his arms frantically. Vaughn turned and casually lifted the silencing charm.

"By Merlin's beard!" Ron gasped, face flushed with awe. "Vaughn, how do you do that? Teach me. Please!"