Solara Lovegood and the Shadow of the Dragon
Chapter XII: The Mystery of the Three-Headed Dog
The Great Hall was relatively empty for what would normally be the lunch hour, with most students likely choosing to sleep in that Saturday. From her seat near the door, Solara noted only a handful of fellow Slytherins scattered along their table, with Draco and his usual entourage noticeably absent. The Hufflepuff table had a slightly greater turnout, its occupants laughing and joking in small, lively clusters, though their numbers were still sparse. At the Ravenclaw table, nearly twenty students by her estimation were huddled together over books, their focus divided between quiet study and hushed conversation. The Gryffindors mirrored this mixed activity, though Solara found their long table equally underpopulated—and, more curiously, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were conspicuously missing.
"The duel must have stretched late into the night," she mused to herself, shrugging slightly as her thoughts drifted before she returned her attention to her lunch.
Her plate offered a modest yet enticing array of dishes. A hearty serving of roasted chicken, seasoned with spices she couldn't quite place but thoroughly enjoyed, sat at the center. Surrounding it were several florets of broccoli, draped in a generous helping of melted cheese, alongside tenderly cooked carrots and three neat spoonfuls of creamy mashed potatoes. Off to the side of the plate rested a small, empty cup—the remnants of a cabbage soup that had whetted her appetite earlier but failed to fully satisfy, and goblet of cold water.
Shifting slightly in her seat, Solara pulled herself closer to the table for added comfort. Her hands carefully smoothed the square of linen draped over her lap, ensuring it stayed in place to protect the clean and pressed skirt of her uniform from any errant stains.
Solara picked up her fork and knife, expertly slicing into the succulent roasted chicken. The spices released a fragrant aroma as the blade slid through the tender meat, her eyes briefly closing in anticipation. She dragged the piece through a streak of cheesy runoff from her broccoli, the rich combination already tantalizing her senses. Her mouth watered as she raised the fork to her lips, eager for the burst of flavors she imagined.
Before the fork could reach her mouth, the clatter of hurried footsteps disrupted her peace. She paused mid-motion, her silver eyes flicking upward as Hermione, Harry, and Ron appeared in a breathless flurry at her side.
"Solara," Hermione began urgently, her tone making it clear this was no casual visit.
"What's wrong now?" Solara asked, her voice calm but tinged with irritation at the interruption. She placed her fork and knife neatly on the edge of her plate, the carefully curated bite left untouched.
"We need to talk. Now," Harry said, his green eyes darting around the Great Hall as if ensuring no one was eavesdropping.
Ron shifted nervously beside him, his freckled face pale but determined. "It's about—well, something important," he stammered, glancing at Hermione for backup.
Solara leaned back slightly, her silver eyes narrowing as she regarded the trio. "Something important? You three look like you've seen a… well," she paused, "I suppose a ghost wouldn't be too surprising here. You look like you've seen something… not normal, for lack of a better word."
"In a manner of speaking, we might have," Hermione whispered, her expression grave as her brown eyes flicked around the Great Hall, scanning for any potential eavesdroppers. She grabbed Solara's arm lightly, urging her to stand.
"Might have?" Ron interjected, his dissatisfaction evident as his blue eyes darted between Hermione and Harry. "We did see it."
"Not here," Hermione shushed him, her tone sharp and commanding. "We need to find somewhere private."
Solara exhaled audibly, her patience already wearing thin. "You three, sit down at your table and eat lunch first," she said firmly, her silver eyes flashing with irritation. "I haven't eaten a bite since yesterday. I was too preoccupied with my research to attend the breaking of fast, and it passed me by. I will not do so with lunch," she warned, her voice even but leaving no room for argument.
Hermione hesitated, glancing at Harry, who gave a small nod. Ron, however, looked ready to protest further, his mouth opening before Harry cut in quietly. "Maybe we should let her eat."
Hermione pursed her lips but relented. "Fine. But as soon as you're done, we talk," she said, her tone brooking no delay.
Solara inclined her head slightly, a ghost of a smirk tugging at her lips. "Very well. Now, if you'll excuse me," she said, gesturing to her plate. With a deliberate motion, she returned her hand to her fork and lifted the morsel of cheesy meat to her mouth. She chewed slowly, her expression serene, before tilting her head toward the trio and giving a subtle flick toward their table.
Taking the hint, the three Gryffindors exchanged glances before retreating to their own table. Solara's gaze followed them, lingering as Ron immediately began piling his plate with an impressive assortment of meats, cheeses, and bread. It didn't take long for him to dive in with unabashed enthusiasm, tearing into his meal as crumbs scattered across the table. His earlier tension seemed to vanish as he indulged, entirely unbothered by Hermione's sharp look of disapproval.
Solara allowed herself a small chuckle at the sight, the corners of her eyes crinkling briefly. Shaking her head, she returned her focus to her own meal, appreciating every bite of it as the hum of the Great Hall surrounded her. The satisfying flavors grounded her, offering a small reprieve from the chaos that clearly awaited her the moment she put down her fork. At the opposite side of the Great Hall, she noticed Hermione's brown eyes fixed intently on her, boring a proverbial hole into her forehead as though waiting for the exact instant she finished eating.
Despite her apparent impatience, Hermione begrudgingly took a bite of her cottage pie, her expression a mix of frustration and resolve. She followed it with a deep drink of pumpkin juice, the action giving her the air of someone trying—and failing—to muster patience.
After several minutes of being stared at like some exotic animal, Solara savored the last bite of her roasted chicken, spearing it through along with a piece of carrot and cheesy broccoli, before lifting it to her lips. The flavors danced on her tongue as she chewed thoughtfully, taking a sip of water to cleanse her palate. She placed her fork down gently, the subtle clink against the plate barely audible over the hum of the Great Hall.
The instant her fork touched the table, Hermione shot to her feet, her expression determined as she grabbed Harry by the sleeve and gestured sharply for Ron to follow. To the surprise of no one, Ron snatched a solitary chicken leg off a platter on Gryffindor table mid-step, ignoring Hermione's pointed glare as he shuffled after her with a shrug of indifference.
Solara watched the trio approach with calm detachment, her posture poised as she dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin. The Slytherin table wasn't far, but she used the brief moment to compose herself, noting the curious glances from her housemates as the Gryffindors made their way over.
When the trio finally reached her, Solara set the napkin aside with practiced grace, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "Now, you were saying?" she remarked, her silver eyes glinting with a touch of amusement as she met Hermione's gaze.
"We need to talk. Somewhere private," Hermione answered curtly, her tone clipped and urgent.
With a soft sigh, Solara rose to her feet, adjusting the pleats of her uniform as she cast one last longing glance at her now-empty plate and the tantalizing spread still adorning the other tables. "This had better be worth it," she muttered under her breath, the faintest edge of false annoyance coloring her tone.
"I don't think it will be," Ron grumbled as he followed, his chicken leg now stripped clean of meat. Without ceremony, he plopped the bare bone onto her empty plate, his eyes darting longingly to the remains of a treacle tart just out of reach.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, come on, you two!" Hermione snapped, her voice rising in frustration as she marched back to grab them. Without hesitation, she seized both Ron and Solara by their sleeves, tugging them forward with surprising strength. The abrupt motion caused the two to bump shoulders, eliciting a grumble from Ron and a pointed arch of Solara's brow as they stumbled into step.
The group hurried through the castle, winding their way through dimly lit corridors until they reached a disused classroom far from the main thoroughfares. Harry closed the door firmly behind them, his usually friendly, if guarded, expression set with unease.
"All right," Solara said, crossing her arms and leaning casually against a desk. Her silver eyes flicked between the trio. "What's this all about?"
Before anyone could speak, Hermione raised a hand, her face tense with purpose. "Cast the charm."
"Oh, yes," Solara muttered, retrieving Dark Sister from the holster beneath her robes. With a flick of her wrist, she whispered, "Muffliato." The faint hum of the spell settled over the room, ensuring their conversation would remain private.
"Wha—" Ron started, but Hermione cut him off with a sharp, "Not now, Ron." She shot him a look that silenced his protest but earned her a glare in return before she turned her attention back to Solara.
Harry exchanged a tense glance with Hermione before stepping forward. "We… saw something. Up on the third floor."
"Third floor?" Solara echoed, her brow furrowing. "You mean the corridor Dumbledore explicitly told everyone was off-limits?"
"Exactly that one," Hermione muttered nervously, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her robes, her usual composure noticeably shaken.
"And what, pray tell, did you see there?" Solara pressed, leaning forward slightly, her silver eyes gleaming with curiosity despite her outwardly calm demeanor.
"A giant, three-headed dog," Harry said flatly, voice steady, his green eyes shining with unease beneath his bespectacled face.
The room fell silent for a moment as Solara processed his words, her brow raising slowly. "A three-headed dog," she repeated, her tone measured but laced with incredulity. "In Hogwarts."
"A giant, three-headed dog," Ron corrected, his blue eyes wide, radiating both impatience and a trace of fear.
"Hmm," Solara hummed thoughtfully, leaning back slightly against the desk and steepling her fingers in front of her. Though her instincts urged skepticism, she knew better than to dismiss such claims outright. The three before her were still children, their expressions earnest and tinged with the urgency of youth. Perhaps their imaginations had been overactive—but this was Hogwarts, a place where the ordinary rarely applied. Stranger things had certainly happened within its storied, ancient walls, and the world beyond it held even greater mysteries.
"We're not making it up!" Ron blurted defensively, his ears reddening as he gestured emphatically. "The thing was massive! Its heads were snarling and everything!"
Hermione nodded fervently, her brow furrowed in thought. "It wasn't just sitting there for no reason either, Ron,—it was guarding something. There was a trapdoor underneath it. Whatever's under that trapdoor, it's important. And likely dangerous."
Solara's lips twitched faintly, her sharp mind already assembling the pieces, as she crossed her arms. "Guarding a trapdoor, you say?" Her gaze shifted between the three of them. "And you're certain it was guarding, not simply loitering?"
"Whoever keeps a giant, three-headed dog as a pet definitely isn't doing it for the companionship," Ron muttered, before mirroring her stance.
"The Gamekeeper might, but I see your point," Solara murmured, tapping her fingers lightly on her shoulder. Her silver eyes glittered with intrigue. "So the three of you—"
"Four," Hermione interrupted quickly. "Neville was with us."
"—Four went poking around where you weren't supposed to, and now you've uncovered some grand mystery?" Solara's lips twitched as if she were holding back a laugh. She couldn't help but marvel at the timing, wondering if this discovery was somehow linked to her and Hermione's investigation into the Chamber, and the strange encounter with Daphne of House Greengrass.
"Exactly," Harry said, his tone unwavering. "And we think it has something to do with whatever Dumbledore's keeping secret."
"Dumbledore's secret?" Solara repeated, uncrossing her arms as a faint smile tugged at her lips. Her silver eyes flicked toward Hermione, whose furrowed brow suggested she was already processing the implications. "Perhaps there's a connection between the Chamber and whatever this is," she mused silently, though her gaze lingered on Hermione a moment longer before shifting back to Harry.
"Well," she drawled, pushing off the desk with a fluid, almost feline grace, "it seems my night just got a bit more interesting. And by the way, Granger," she added, her voice tinged with playful mockery, "didn't you tell me just yesterday that you didn't care what they were up to?"
Hermione bristled, her cheeks coloring as she crossed her arms defensively. "I'm still going to try and stop them if I can," she replied sharply, her tone clipped. "I don't want them to lose Gryffindor any points…." Her voice trailed off, her eyes darting to the side as she muttered something inaudible under her breath, her frustration evident.
"What was that?" Solara leaned in slightly, her grin widening in anticipation of Hermione's reluctant admission.
"I said we can't afford it with you getting Slytherin points by the fistful, okay?" Hermione snapped, her cheeks flushing faintly as she pursed her lips. "But that's beside the point."
"She's stubborn," Ron stage-whispered to Solara, cupping a hand around his mouth as though sharing a world-shaking secret.
"And competitive," Solara whispered back with a laughing glint in her silver eyes.
"I am not! Just persistent and focused," Hermione hissed, her glare snapping between the two of them, her voice a sharp whisper that somehow managed to carry weight despite its softness.
"Hello!? Can we get back on track, please?" Harry interjected, his tone polite but edged with impatience. His vivid green eyes darted between the bickering trio. "Dumbledore's secret, remember?"
Solara chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the interplay between them. "Yes, let's," she said, her amusement lingering as she smoothed down the fabric of her skirt and gestured with a graceful flick of her wrist. "I do so hate being kept in suspense."
Harry exhaled sharply and produced a crumpled piece of parchment from the folds of his robes, smoothing it out against the polished surface of the table. The parchment revealed a clipping from the Daily Prophet, the headline in bold print catching the light: "Break-In at Gringotts: Vault 713 Targeted".
"And what's this?" Solara inquired, stepping forward with a measured elegance. Her hands were clasped behind her back, her silver eyes scanning the headline with curiosity. "A break-in at Gringotts?" She glanced up at Harry, her brow arching sharply. "Why should this be of any import to me? And how does it tie into these supposed secrets of Dumbledore?"
Harry hesitated for a moment, glancing at Hermione and Ron as if for support. "The vault that was broken into," he began, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "it was emptied the same day Hagrid took me there."
"Interesting timing," Solara mused, tilting her head slightly. Her tone was calm, but her mind whirred with possibilities. "And what, exactly, was stored in this vault?"
"I'm not sure, but it was small," Harry replied sheepishly, his green eyes darting around as if trying to gauge her reaction.
"Hmm. Small enough to fit into a trapdoor beneath a large three-headed dog?" Solara pressed, her tone even as she unclasped her hands and picked up the clipping from the Daily Prophet.
"Small enough to fit into the palm of your hand. Or at least Hagrid's hand," Harry clarified, his voice a mixture of uncertainty and conviction.
"And why do you feel there is a connection between the two?" Solara continued, her silver eyes narrowing thoughtfully. While her instincts whispered that there might be a link, she couldn't discount the possibility that the sprawling mysteries and size of Hogwarts could easily house multiple unrelated schemes—some perhaps even at odds with one another.
She studied Harry's face carefully, noting the tension etched in his features, before letting her gaze flick briefly to Ron and Hermione. Both seemed equally uneasy, though Hermione's expression carried its usual sharpness, tinged with a hint of resolve.
Harry shifted on his feet, his hand rising to rub the back of his neck in an anxious gesture. He glanced at Hermione as if seeking her approval before he finally spoke. "It's just… the timing seems too—"
"Convenient," Solara finished for him, her tone steady.
"Yes." Harry blinked, caught off guard by her swift deduction, but nodded.
"Hmmm." Solara lifted her hand to her chin, her lips pursed in thought. "You don't give me much to go on, Potter, but I suppose I could afford this little bit of distraction." Her silver eyes flicked toward Hermione, whose approving nod confirmed the Gryffindor trio's shared sense of determination.
"Distraction?" Ron sputtered, his brows knitting together in confusion. "What else are you doing?"
"Research into an entirely different matter, maybe," Solara replied simply, her tone calm and matter-of-fact as though the answer should have been obvious.
"Research?" Ron echoed, his expression morphing from confusion to disbelief, as though the very concept of voluntarily studying in one's spare time was incomprehensible to him. "Why would you do that if you don't have to?"
"Yes, research," Solara said pointedly, frowning slightly at his incredulity before shifting her attention back to Harry. "And it's something we can discuss another time, Weasley."
Ron muttered something under his breath about her strange priorities but wisely chose not to press the matter further.
"So," Solara continued, fixing Harry with an appraising look as she leaned slightly forward, her silver eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Do you have some grand plan of attack for unraveling your little mystery, Potter?"
"Not yet," Harry admitted, his expression brightening slightly with a half-smile. "But we can work on it. Together."
Solara quirked an elegant brow, her lips curving into a sly smirk. "So be it, Potter. But let me be clear—if Granger and I end up doing the heavy lifting for this investigation, I will expect some form of compensation. Monetary, preferably. There are several spell books I wish to procure."
Harry grinned broadly at her words, the corners of his green eyes crinkling. "I'll see what I can do, if it comes to that."
"You'd better," Solara replied smoothly, returning his smile before turning her attention to Hermione, whose lips were pressed into a thin line, though amusement flickered in her eyes.
"Hey, I'm not getting paid," Ron interjected, crossing his arms with a mock scowl.
"You're getting paid in friendship, Weasley," Solara countered with a soft chuckle, her tone teasing but not unkind. "Someone like me, however, requires compensation a bit more tangible—something real, not abstract."
Ron groaned, though the faintest trace of a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Figures—you're a Slytherin," he muttered under his breath.
"And don't you forget it, Weasley," Solara replied smoothly, pressing a finger lightly against his chest for emphasis. Her smirk was sly, but the glint in her silver eyes betrayed a flicker of delight at the playful banter.
"Okay, okay, that's enough of that," Hermione interjected sharply, stepping between them with an air of no-nonsense authority. Her tone was clipped, and her brown eyes blazed with focus as she began ticking off her points with precise, determined gestures. "Here's what we know: A, Harry and Hagrid retrieved something small from Vault 713 at Gringotts. B, that same vault was broken into later that very day. And C, there's a giant three-headed dog guarding a trapdoor on the third floor. Now, while A and B are clearly connected, tying C into this feels like a stretch."
"Not necessarily, Granger," Solara countered, leaning forward slightly. Her tone was calm, measured, and laced with subtle confidence as her silver eyes met Hermione's. "Dumbledore did warn us to avoid that floor, which means the dog being there is no secret—at least not to the staff of Hogwarts. One of those staff members is Hagrid, who accompanied Harry to Gringotts and would logically be trusted with information about protecting something important, such as whatever was removed from the vault. And, given his title as Gamekeeper, it stands to reason he'd have some knowledge of the beast supposedly protecting the aforementioned item as well."
Hermione paused, her lips pursed in thought, as though searching for a flaw in Solara's reasoning. "It's a plausible connection," she admitted reluctantly, though her voice carried a hint of skepticism.
"Plausible and also grounded," Solara countered with a faint smirk, her silver eyes glinting with quiet amusement. "No need to complicate our theories by veering off into tangents," she added, fully aware that her own investigations into the Chamber of Secrets were likely just as riddled with conjecture.
"I suppose you're right… for now," Hermione muttered, her tone grudging as she cast Solara a questioning glance. Straightening slightly, she turned to address the rest of the group. "Harry? Ron? If we're going to pursue this, we need more than guesses and theories. We need facts."
"Agreed," Harry said quietly, speaking up for the first time. His green eyes met Hermione's, reflecting both his resolve and curiosity.
"We can start with what we can uncover about the Gringotts break-ins," Solara suggested, her voice steady and confident. "Particularly anything related to Vault 713—recent deposits, withdrawals, and, more importantly, by whom."
"And the dog," Ron added with a nod, his frown softening as he adopted a more contemplative expression.
"I'd wager my original guess is correct," Solara said with a faint shrug. "It's likely Hagrid knows something about it. Best to approach him subtly, circle the subject, but never ask outright. It may take time."
"Exactly," Hermione agreed, her posture straightening as she adopted an air of determination. "We'll divide and conquer—Solara and I will focus on Gringotts, and Harry and Ron can handle Hagrid. Anything else can wait," she added, casting a pointed glance toward Solara, her meaning clear but left unspoken.
"Understood," Solara replied, her lips curving into a faint, knowing smile. "Let's see where our curiosity takes us, then." Her silver eyes glinted with amusement as she observed the spark of determination in their expressions, a quiet energy binding the group despite their differing temperaments.
"Also, I don't know about you three," she added dryly, "but this has been a very eventful first week at Hogwarts for me."
They all laughed, the sound a blend of genuine humor and nervous tension. Even Ron managed a soft chuckle as he glanced at the others, his usual carefree demeanor momentarily softened by camaraderie.
"And now, we march," Solara declared, rising with a flourish. But before they could take a step, the sound of a rumbling stomach echoed through the empty classroom. All heads turned toward Hermione, whose face turned a vivid shade of crimson.
"Sorry," she muttered sheepishly. "I'm still hungry."
Solara and Ron exchanged a glance, their eyes lighting up with shared enthusiasm. The corners of their mouths lifted in unison before they burst out, "Us too!" Their voices rang out happily as they began moving toward the door, seemingly pulled by an invisible force back to the Great Hall.
"We still have fifteen minutes and forty-two seconds," Solara informed them, her tone precise and measured. She had calculated the remaining time for lunch down to the second, the accuracy a small point of pride.
As they hurried toward the promise of a second serving, Solara glanced back to find an honest, carefree smile spreading across Harry's face. He raced alongside them, his usual tension melting away for the moment.
"Excellent," Solara murmured under her breath, mentally noting the rare but genuine display of joy. More importantly, she recognized the subtle weaving of the threads that would eventually bind them all together—threads that she was determined to strengthen and guide to her advantage.