"Intrigue and Pranks in the Hallways"

"Intrigue and Pranks in the Hallways"

After a few days of Gryffindor celebrations, an unusual scene unfolded as they walked toward the staircase.

It caught the attention of the Golden Trio, who were heading to their daily adventure.

A soft, cheerful whistling melody could be heard in the background, accompanied by light, controlled footsteps.

"What is that?" Ron asked, pointing at the approaching figure.

"I think it's Boss Stephen," Harry replied, having picked up the twins' way of referring to Stephen.

"He's carrying something tied to his shoulder. Is that… a person?" Hermione asked, surprised by what she was seeing, which drew Stephen's attention.

"Hello, little trio. What are you up to? Getting into trouble again? If you keep this up, you'll get us more point deductions. That's being a bad child," Stephen teased, making the trio hesitate on whether to ask their question.

Until Harry finally gathered the courage. "B-Boss Stephen, is that Draco Malfoy you're carrying?" he asked nervously, eyeing the bound Slytherin struggling to break free.

"Wait, the blond one's name is Draco? Pfft, what a ridiculous name," Stephen mocked, holding the struggling figure as if he were a sack.

"Mmm mmm!" Draco tried to protest, but with his mouth gagged, only muffled sounds came out.

"Wh-Why do you have him tied up and gagged?" Hermione asked.

"Because he's too noisy. I found him bullying Neville and some younger Gryffindors, so I figured I'd take him to see if Fluffy was hungry on the third floor," Stephen replied casually, as if feeding a three-headed dog was a normal thing to do.

"F-Fluffy? You mean that giant three-headed dog?" Ron asked, a mix of fear and delight over the imagined fate of the Slytherin blond.

"Mmm mmm m!" Upon hearing where he was being taken, Draco desperately tried to wriggle free, obviously to no avail.

"You can't do that. It's forbidden, and above all, that would be murder," Hermione said, acting as the voice of reason.

"So they say. But I never mentioned a three-headed dog, so it seems like you little runts have also been sneaking into forbidden areas," Stephen smirked.

"We…"

"What is going on here?" Before Harry could answer, Professor McGonagall turned the corner and spotted them—particularly Stephen, carrying a bound and struggling student over his shoulder.

"Crap, McGonagall! Run, you fools!" Stephen shouted, unceremoniously dropping Draco to the ground and taking off. The three fools, not knowing what else to do, ran after him as McGonagall's voice echoed behind them.

"There's no point in running, Mr. Stephen! I already saw you! 50 points from Gryffindor!" But she didn't chase after them, as she first needed to help poor Draco Malfoy.

After a while of running and losing their breath, the trio finally caught up with Stephen, who had already regrouped with the twins and the others, all resting after training.

"Stephen, why did we even run if we were going to lose points anyway? It would've been better to stay put when McGonagall found us," Hermione said anxiously, as if she had never run from a professor before.

"Boss! You went off to have fun without us! That's unfair!"

"Yeah! And here we are, sweating and training with all our spirit!" the twins complained, earning exasperated looks from their fellow trainees—who knew perfectly well that these two barely trained yet were somehow among the best fighters in the third-year group.

"I just wanted to scare a little bully, that's all," Stephen said with a grin, remembering how the blond Slytherin had nearly wet himself.

"So, why were you three wandering around instead of coming to train? You said you were busy," Stephen asked, eyeing the trio, who seemed to have caught their breath.

"Yeah, we're busy," Ron said defensively, though he was secretly pleased to have an excuse to skip training with his brothers.

"The thing is…" Harry hesitated for a few seconds, looking at his two friends. They nodded, signaling him to go ahead.

"We're looking for information about Nicolas Flamel. Do you guys know who he is?" Harry asked, looking at the twins and Stephen.

The three of them exchanged glances for a moment before bursting into laughter.

"Hahaha, of course we know him. He's my grandfather," Stephen said, barely containing his laughter.

"He's also my alchemy teacher."

"Mine too. We learned from him when we visited Stephen's house," the twins added, grinning as if they were looking at three clueless fools.

"If you don't know, just say so. There's no need to make fun of us. Come on, Ron, Harry, let's keep looking," Hermione said angrily, dragging the other two fools away.

After they left, Stephen looked around, noticing that everyone was staring at him, somewhat surprised by what had just happened.

"What? But I told the truth," Stephen said, not understanding what had just transpired.

"So did we," the twins emphasized.

"Sigh That's what happens when you don't take anything seriously, you idiots," Angelina Johnson replied, a bit exhausted, while the other Gryffindors nodded in agreement.

"Alright, enough. Keep training! Today's training will be twice as hard," Stephen shouted, only to receive glares from his housemates in revenge.

"Whaaat?!"

"Nooo!"

"Angelina, this is your fault!"

"What?! I just told the truth, you idiots!" Angelina snapped, then shot an angry look at Stephen, who feigned distraction by staring at a rock.

"Alright, I'm kidding. But today we're having a no-magic training session. I already made Professor McGonagall mad, and I don't want to be sent to clean the bathrooms again," Stephen said, remembering how the professor had discovered what he hated most. Although he had become friends with Moaning Myrtle, she was quite unbearable when he had to listen to her for two whole hours—the amount of time McGonagall forced him to clean the bathrooms.

One of the reasons he started running away whenever he saw the professor while pulling pranks.

"By the way, we heard you have a meeting with Alastor Moody and some top Auror officials," Fred asked.

"Yeah, a couple of Gryffindor guys joined the Aurors and showed them the magic glove that transports criminals into a containment capsule. They were impressed and also demonstrated the level of training they got here," Stephen said proudly.

"You mean that the training we do here could also help us join the Aurors more easily?" one of the students asked excitedly, as it seemed to be his dream to become an Auror.

"Maybe, but remember they also take your N.E.W.T.s into account, so don't get your hopes up too much—study properly," Stephen said, bursting his bubble, making everyone remember that getting an Outstanding in Potions was crucial for joining the Aurors.

And remembering their Potions professor, many of them made sour faces.

"Alright, enough. Start training already. As always, the winner gets a day off," Stephen said, suddenly turning around before finishing his sentence.

"What's wrong, boss?" George asked, noticing Stephen's strange behavior.

"Nothing, I just felt like someone was watching me. Maybe it was just my imagination," Stephen said as he turned back, though he remained slightly on guard. But being in Hogwarts, it was unlikely that someone would attack him. More importantly, the gaze didn't feel hostile.

"Anyway, like I said—day off for the winner. Form your groups!" Stephen shouted.

Meanwhile, in one of the towers, Dumbledore stood alongside a heavily scarred man who held a cane in one hand for support. The most striking feature, however, was his prosthetic eye, which moved in seemingly random directions—but in reality, it was carefully observing the movements of all the students training in the courtyard.

"He seems to have good perception. And his training methods… It's as if he's been training people all his life. They have a remarkably solid foundation, better than many Aurors," the man remarked.

"From what I know, he has been training since he was at least four years old. And his companions joined him in their first year at Hogwarts," Dumbledore replied.

"Are you telling me that in less than three years, he turned novice wizards—who likely had no prior training—into fighters of this caliber? When I saw the two recruits who joined the Aurors, I even suspected they might be spies."

"Mmm, I hope you didn't attack them over that, Moody. They are good kids who worked hard to become strong," Dumbledore said, looking at Mad-Eye Moody.

"I didn't do anything to them, just kept them under watch until they told me where they learned to fight and where they got this," Moody said, showing Dumbledore a golden-glowing glove.

"Oh? And what is this?" Dumbledore asked, intrigued, observing the magical energy radiating from it and the glowing runes etched onto the object.

"It's a containment glove that releases a spell, trapping whoever it strikes inside a capsule," Moody said as he pulled out a glass container, inside of which a person could be seen pounding against the transparent walls.

"This is Oliver Scum. A ruthless murderer who took the lives of three Aurors. Unfortunately for him, he crossed paths with one of the new recruits on patrol and got himself caught," Moody said with disdain toward the prisoner.

"Oh, this is incredibly useful for capturing criminals. I see now why you're interested in young Flamel," Dumbledore remarked, using Stephen's surname—perhaps to subtly dissuade Moody from being too suspicious of the boy.

"Flamel? That makes sense. If he can create something like this… Though, from our tests, the binding spell can be countered with a shield charm if the target is quick and clever enough. Still, it would greatly assist Aurors in combat against Dark Wizards," Moody explained his reasoning to Dumbledore.

"I see. Then I'll summon young Flamel to meet with you in my office, if you don't mind."

"That's fine. Either way, we need to call Amelia Bones to join the meeting," Moody said as he made his way toward the office.

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