Sorry for the delay in posting tonight! I got really distracted by a music composition project I've been meaning to finish for a while. Anyhow, I'd like to thank you guys again for the favorites, follows, and especially the reviews. They just mean a bunch to me and I always appreciate feedback!

I'll continue to update on Saturdays and Wednesdays for now. I hope you all have a good one. Enjoy the chapter!

"You're joking."

It was only three hours later that Harry met up with us again in the Great Hall and informed us that not only did he escape punishment from Professor McGonagall, but that he was now a part of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, with the position of the Seeker.

My mouth dropped open when I heard this one. Shaking my head in awe, I whispered, "As a first-year? But there's a rule that we can't even have our broomsticks here!"

Harry simply shrugged, his large grin unfading. "I start training next week. But don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."

I exhaled slowly, admittedly feeling a little envious. I would have to wait for another full year before auditioning for my part in the Quidditch team, whereas Harry had it in the bag already.

Before I could decide whether or not to speak my mind, Fred and George Weasley approached us, identical manic smiles on their faces. It was George who first muttered, "Well done, Harry, Wood told us. We're on the team too—Beaters."

"We're going to win that Quidditch Cup for sure this year," Fred added. "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, Harry, Wood was almost skipping when he told us."

"Anyway, we've got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school."

"Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you."

And with that, Fred and George Weasley were off to whatever shenanigans they got up to in their free time. I couldn't help but exchange looks with Ron and Harry and laugh—but as soon as my laugh started, it ended.

In front of us stood Draco Malfoy, looking incredibly pleased with himself… and of course, in his shadow were Crabbe and Goyle.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?" taunted Malfoy, wiggling an eyebrow.

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," remarked Harry, leaning back and crossing his arms. I couldn't help but smirk too—even on the ground, it wasn't like Malfoy had an advantage. Ron and I had his back in case anything were to happen… which it wouldn't, because deep down, Malfoy was scared.

Malfoy's easy look vanished as he hissed, "I'd take you on anytime on my own: tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only—no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Course he has," spat Ron, darting forward. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

Malfoy turned around and looked between his two cronies before answering, "Crabbe. Midnight, all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room, that's always unlocked."

Then they stalked off, taking the tension with them.

Once it was clear they were out of earshot, Harry leaned towards us and murmured, "What is a wizard's duel? And what do you mean you're my second?"

"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," Ron explained, although his words were somewhat muffled due to the fact that he was back to eating. "But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Malfoy'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."

Harry scratched his head. "What if I wave my wand and nothing happens?"

"Throw it away and punch him in the nose."

I laughed at that one, if only because it would be an amusing sight. I wondered what the expression on Malfoy's face would be if Harry were to do such a thing…

"Excuse me," said a voice.

We all turned around to see Hermione Granger sizing us up, a thinly veiled look of displeasure on her face.

"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" Ron grumbled to himself.

Hermione didn't seem to hear this—or if she did, she ignored it. She turned to Harry and said, "I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying, and you mustn't go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."

"And it's really none of your business," Harry returned, his eyes narrowed.

I blinked once or twice and thought about what Hermione was saying, however. She was no fool… and neither was Malfoy.

I soon spoke my concerns aloud: "Harry, Ron, there's a distinct possibility that Malfoy might be trying to set you up for expulsion… again. He may be a prat and a bully, but he's not stupid."

"Then we'll deal with it when it comes," Harry answered a bit forcefully, shoving a piece of bacon into his mouth. "I'm not going to back down now."

Although the answer was expected, it made me sigh, roll my eyes, and retort, "Very well, then. But at least let me come with you. The more eyes the better."

"Fair enough," said Harry, and that was the end of it.

At half-past eleven, Harry, Ron, and I met up in the common room the way we had discussed earlier that day. We brought our wands and our wits, as those were the only two things we were likely to need for a first-year wizard's duel.

Right before we could leave through the portrait of the Fat Lady, however, an oh-so-familiar voice exclaimed, "I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry."

Harry, like myself, seemed to know exactly who it was that was speaking. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth before turning around to face Hermione Granger.

"You!" hissed Ron. "Go back to bed!"

"I almost told your brother, Percy—he's a prefect, he'd put a stop to this."

Instead of entertaining her rants, Harry seemed to wish to move forward. He silently stepped through the portrait hole, followed by Ron, and then myself… and then, Hermione.

"Don't you care about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourselves, I don't want Slytherin to win the House Cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."

"Go away," said Harry.

"All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so—"

But suddenly, she stopped speaking.

Rather surprised by her abrupt silence, I turned to see what made her freeze… and noted that the portrait of the Fat Lady was empty, meaning that Hermione was unable to go back inside the common room.

Hermione seemed to come to the same conclusion as she exclaimed, "Now what am I going to do?!"

Ron snorted. "That's your problem. We've got to go, we're going to be late."

"I'm coming with you."

"You are not."

"Do you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds all four of us I'll tell him the truth, that I was trying to stop you, and you can back me up."

Ron's face turned red as he began to shout, "You've got some nerve—"

But I heard something odd… a sort of snuffling…

"Shut up!" I whispered, holding up a hand. Fortunately, Ron ceased speaking, and I was able to locate the source of the new sound. Lying on the ground, fitfully asleep, was Neville Longbottom.

I knelt to the floor and gently shook Neville's shoulder. His eyes popped open, but it seemed to take a moment for him to recognize who I was. Once he got his wits about him, however, he exclaimed in relief, "Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours, I couldn't remember the new password to get in to bed."

"It's 'pig snout,' Neville," I replied, "but the Fat Lady isn't around at the moment. You'll have to wait for her to get back."

"How's your arm?" asked Harry.

Neville grinned and held it out to show us. "Fine, Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute."

"That's good. Well look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later—"

"Don't leave me!" cried our classmate, his eyes wide. "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already."

Ron threw his hands in the air, grumbling under his breath for a minute, before exclaiming in Hermione's and Neville's direction, "If either of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies that Quirrell told us about, and used it on you."

The journey to the trophy room was filled with tension. I kept my ears poised for any sign of Mrs. Norris or Filch, but somehow, we were incredibly lucky and made it all the way to our destination without anyone around.

When we arrived, we split up briefly to scour the room for any sign of Malfoy. Half of me was uncertain he'd be around… if I knew Malfoy at all, he would never put himself in the direct line of fire. All the same, the little twerp was also full of surprises, so I kept my wand poised and at the ready in case I caught a glimpse of silver-blond hair.

The moonlight made it easier to search the trophy room, seeing as everything in it was shiny and caused the faint light to glimmer and effectively illuminate the place. Finally, it was determined that Malfoy wasn't around.

"Maybe he's chickened out," Ron suggested—but before anyone could toss out another idea, a noise in the next room made me gasp.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner…"

Filch.

Harry immediately ran to the opposite side of the room, waving an arm for us to follow. We did so without complaint, and we darted around the corner just as Filch opened the door to the trophy room.

"They're in here somewhere… probably hiding…"

Harry continued to lead us further away from the trophy room, down a long hallway decorated with gleaming suits of armor. I tried to keep my breathing as steady and quiet as possible, but my heartbeat simply wouldn't do the same.

For a moment, it almost seemed like we might get away… but then, terrified, Neville broke into a sprint and tripped, grabbing onto Ron as he went down… and sent the two of them straight into a suit of armor.

The sound was absolutely deafening. I rushed forth to yank the boys to their feet, and once we were all standing, Harry yelled, "RUN!" and lead the way again.

I pushed Neville and Ron in front of me, sprinting as fast as I could. I took a swift look behind me to see if Filch was following—while the man himself was not yet in the hallway, his cat certainly was, and she was running after us too.

We ran for what seemed like forever, dodging down one corridor after another after another, then down a secret passageway or two, up a staircase, down another corridor… until finally, we stopped to gather our breath. I took a look around and recognized our surroundings as the Charms corridor, luckily a long way away from the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him," Harry gasped, wiping his forehead.

"I—told—you," wheezed Hermione, who was doubled over. "I—told—you."

"We've got to go back to Gryffindor tower as quickly as possible," said Ron.

"No arguments here," I muttered, grabbing at my heart. It was still beating incredibly fast, as if it were unable to slow at this point. I turned to Harry and threw my hands in the air, angrily exclaiming, "Malfoy, that absolute—he did it again, tricked us and tried to get us expelled."

Harry laughed sourly and shook his head. "What do you mean 'us?' He likes you well enough."

I raised an eyebrow and snorted. "Please. Just because we can tolerate each other's existences better than you or others doesn't mean we're best buddies."

"Even so, Belle—"

"Belle?" exclaimed a delighted voice, one I'd only ever heard a few times. "You mean wee little Belle that Professor McGonagall delights in so much?"

And out popped Peeves the poltergeist, his head emerging from our Charms classroom. The rest of his body soon followed, his bright silver eyes latched onto my face as he exclaimed, "Well, Miss Belle, it certainly doesn't seem so very smart to be walking these corridors at midnight! Naughty naughty, you'll get caughty!"

This last he spoke in a sing-song voice, hovering above us all with malicious delight. Then, with a heaving sigh, he lamented, "Not very smart at all, ickle firsties! You know, I've just thought of something brilliant!"

The way that the poltergeist was acting made it clear to me that what he wished for was someone to play his game… it was a long shot, but I had a suspicion that if I spoke and reacted the way that Peeves wanted, he might let us go.

And so I asked, "What is that, Peeves?"

The ghost grinned at me and whirled towards me upside-down, only a few feet from my face. "A new nickname for you! You aren't being very smart, but you are a charming little bell, so… Dumbbell!"

"A nice nickname, thank you."

"Oh you're very welcome, very welcome indeed," simpered Peeves, turning right-side up again. His eyes glinted with a hint of… I wasn't quite sure, but part of me suspected it was approval.

Hoping that this was enough to earn his favor, I asked sweetly, "You know, Peeves, we were rather hoping that you'd let us pass so we could return to bed."

Peeves put a spectral finger to his chin in mock thought, humming and harrumphing in excess. After a moment, he pointed that finger at me again, and remarked, "You know, I like you, Dumbbell. But I also like messing with Filch… so I'll do you the greatest of favors and give you ickle firsties a ten second heads-up! Better find a place to hide…"

His face grew incredibly devious as he began counting down from the number ten.

I turned to my friends and, eyes wide, said, "Hide."

We all darted around the corner, the countdown echoing in my head like a time-bomb.

Three… two… one…

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED BY THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Zero.

I launched myself into a door and yanked on the handle—only to find that it was locked.

"Bloody—!" I exclaimed, but the lock wouldn't budge.

"Move, move!" shrieked Hermione, pointing her wand at the handle. "Alohomora!" she recited, and then the lock was free. She yanked open the door and ushered us inside, closing the door swiftly yet quietly after us.

No sooner had this been done than we heard Filch enter the corridor, wheezing. He wasted no time in asking, "Which way did they go, Peeves? Quick, tell me."

"Say 'please.'"

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," sang Peeves, accompanying his nonsense with a coquettish giggle.

Filch sighed in remonstration before relenting: "All right—please."

Peeves, however, simply burst into laughter. "NOTHING! Haaaaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please!" And with that, the poltergeist floated away, Filch's curses following after him.

We waited for another few moments before sighing in unanimous relief. Harry looked at me and grinned.

"Great work, Belle. Filch thinks this door is locked, I think we'll be okay—get off, Neville! What?"

Neville pointed further into the room, and we all inhaled sharply.

Standing in front of us, looking about as surprised at our appearance as we were at its, was a three-headed dog. And it wasn't a normal-sized three-headed dog. It was a gigantic mutt that towered over all of us, its teeth about the size of our heads.

Harry yanked the door open, and we all piled out of the forbidden corridor, the dog snapping at our heels as we escaped. Somehow, we were able to force the door shut, lock it again, and sprint off without running into Filch. Somehow, we were able to make it back to the portrait of the Fat Lady, who had returned from her late-night sojourn and, seeing how winded we all were, quizzically asked, "Where on earth have you all been?"

"Never mind that, pig snout, pig snout," panted Harry, and the portrait swung open. We dove into the passageway before promptly collapsing on the armchairs of the common room, still in disbelief from what we had seen.

A silence reigned for about five minutes while we regained our breath and simply processed everything that had just happened. It was Ron who broke that silence, his voice angry and confused as he asked, "What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school? If any dog needs exercise, that one does!"

Hermione scoffed, her superior attitude returned to her at last. "You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you? Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" retorted Harry, a fair amount of sarcasm in his voice. I bit my fist to keep from laughing. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads."

"No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something."

Before we could speak again, Hermione launched to her feet and, glaring at us, exclaimed, "I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed—or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

And without so much as another word, Hermione tromped off towards our dormitory.

Neville glanced after her and murmured, "I think I'm going to bed, too. Goodnight, you guys."

"Goodnight, Neville," we all replied, and then he was off as well.

Once he was gone, the three of us exchanged looks. It was clear we all felt the same way: it might've been easier if it had been just the three of us.

All the same, we simply shook our heads and said our goodnights. When I crawled into bed in my dormitory, I knew that Hermione was far from asleep. If I knew anything about her, I knew that there was something she was troubled over, something she couldn't simply research.

We were both thinking about what the three-headed dog could be guarding…

But I knew that it would hardly be helpful to stay awake thinking. So I closed my eyes and spent some time calming myself before drifting off into what would hopefully be a peaceful sleep.