Were he sorted into any other house, Harry Potter would not be playing on a flute, as Ron Weasley opened the door to the death-defying room at the end of the Forbidden Corridor. Harry really didn't want to be here. He was convinced, as the other two weren't, that they were dead little chickens, no matter how bravely the cockerels crowed.
His music obviously displeased the giant three headed Fluffy, because the dog's ear gave a giant twitch, and then Fluffy was climbing to his feet, growling with his teeth barred.
Thinking quickly, Ron slammed the door in his face.
"What do we do?" Hermione asked.
"I'm not sure..." Harry said, slowly, "Maybe now we can go report the deadly beast to McGonagall? I can't imagine Dumbledore doing anything, but if she'd give detentions for dragging around a dragon, surely someone deserves some punishment for the Giant Chained Dog?" This was a quite promising line of thought, Harry thought eagerly.
"But what if we get detention?" Hermione said, "I've got a clean record, and it's not that I care about that-" Harry tuned out at this point, though Ron was quick to pooh-pooh the importance of records, Harry actually believed that having a Certified Good Girl nearby was good for his own reputation. She could vouch for him after all.
Unfortunately, before Harry could interrupt effectively (Hermione was like a freight train when bothered), there was a shaking of the floor.
Shite, Harry thought. It's gone back to sleep again. I'd been hoping to get the hell away from here before that happened.
"D' y' suppose something happened to the Fluffy?" Ron said. Harry wanted to cradle his head in his hands.
"Let's check!" Hermione said, as Harry carefully stowed the flute in a pocket. He wasn't good at playing, but he cherished the gift anyway, and knew he'd probably get better. Eventually.
"It's asleep!" Ron said happily. Harry was far less sanguine about the whole deal.
"And it's off the trap door. Oh goodie," Harry said, with sarcasm so acidic it might eat through the trapdoor on its lonesome.
Ron rushed over to the trap door, throwing it open. Harry had to practically hold Hermione back, hissing, "Let the fresh meat try the trapdoor. Who knows what's under there."
"Harry!" Hermione said, in a very low voice, softer than a whisper. Nonetheless, she clearly saw the wisdom he was offering, as she stopped trying to get closer.
"It's... it's a plant?" Ron said.
Harry, who had more patience in Herbology than Hermione and Ron combined, said, "Let me take a look. I might recognize it." Ron gave him a disbelieving look (clearly he didn't think Muggleborn half-bloods would know about Magical Plants).
Harry frowned, "I'm not sure which of the light-fearing plants this is, but I recognize the leaves. all you need to do is cast Lumos." Which Harry did, and the plant retreated.
Ron, meanwhile, like a monkey, was squatting at the edge of the trapdoor, leaning over, and saying, "That's a long way down."
Harry dropped the lumos, looking over the edge from a discrete distance and standing up, like a normal person.
[a/n: I've seen a bunch of different renditions of this. I'm hoping a much more cautious Harry should be entertaining enough reading. Reviews, as always, mean more story!]