-Author's Note:

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Jane had never believed she would meet anyone she hated more than the Dursleys, but that was before she met Draco Malfoy.

Still, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so they didn't have to put up with Malfoy much. Or at least, they didn't until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room which made them all groan.

Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning

together.

"That's just bloody typical," said Jack angrily

"Bloody hell why do we have to be with Slytheri" scowled Ron

"For Merlin's sake" said Jane darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy." She had been looking forward to learning to fly more than

anything else.

"You don't know you'll make a fool of yourself," said Ron reasonably

"If you don't let us make a fool of ourselves we won't let you make a fool out of yourself" added Jack in a reassuring way

"Yeah" said Ron " and anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."

"I guess" Jane said " yeah you're probably right"

Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first-years never getting in the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories which always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters.

But he wasn't the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick.

Even Ron would tell anyone

who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang-glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly.

Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared their dormitory, about football.

Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly.

Jack had apparently caught Ron prodding Dean's poster of West-Ham football team, trying to make the players move.

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Jane felt she'd had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground.

Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was.

This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book – not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored them all stupid with flying tips she'd got out of a library book called Quidditch Through the Ages. Neville was

hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted

by the arrival of the post.

Jane hadn't had a single letter since Dumbledore's note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets

from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!"he explained. "Gran knows I forget things – this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red – oh…" His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet"'… you've forgotten something …"

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Jack and Ron jumped to their feet. They were on the other side of the table and leaned over it glaring menacingly at Malfoy and his cronies.

Jane sprang to her feet, she was on the same side as Malfoy and stood with her hand folded glaring up at Malfoy who was a head taller than her.

They were all half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?" She asked sternly

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor." Replied Neville in a small voice.

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

At three-thirty that afternoon, the trio and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps into the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns towards a smooth lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the Forbidden Forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Jane had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms,

saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, grey hair and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Jane glanced down at her broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front,

"and say,'Up!'"

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Jane broom jumped into her hand at once, but it was the only one that did. Ron's broom had lurched up, like a rake that had been stood on, it hit him in the face. Jack's broom gave a jump and a wiggle but did not remain airborne for more than a second.

Again people cried Up and Ron's broom launched itself into his waiting hand. It was one of the few that did.

On the third attempt Jack's broom along with the majority of the brooms met with their temporary owner's hands.

Neville's broom simply rolled over on

the ground each time she said Up and Hermione Bishop's broom hadn't moved at all.

Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Jane; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Once everyone but Hermione had their broom in their hands Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows,

correcting their grips.

Jane, Ron and Jack were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly."

Once everyone had nodded their understanding Madam Hooch continued.

"On my whistle – three – two –"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle – twelve feet – twenty feet.

Jane saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and – WHAM – a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay, face down, on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher and started to drift lazily towards the Forbidden Forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," Jane heard her mutter. "Come on, boy – it's all right, up you get." She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'. Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?" Malfoy laughed loudly and the other Slytherins joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Hermione Bishop.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" Said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little cry babies, Bishop."

"Look!" Said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Jane as she glared at Malfoy.. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Malfoy smiled nastily.

" think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to collect – how about – up a tree?"

"I SAID GIVE IT HERE!' Jane yelled, but Malfoy had already leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well – hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called,

"Come and get it, Potter!"

Jane grabbed her broom.

"No!" Shouted Hermione Bishop. "Madam Hooch told us not to move – you'll get us all into trouble."

"Technically shell only get herself in trouble" Jack pointed out

"NO" screamed Hermione "Jane you can't we'll all be expelled"

Jane ignored her. Blood was pounding in her ears. She mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up she soared, air rushed through her hair and her long black robes whipped out behind her – and in a rush of fierce joy she realised she'd found something she could do without being taught – this was easy, this was wonderful.

Jane pulled her broomstick up a little to take it even higher and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron, and cheering from the other boys.

Jane turned her broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in mid-air. Malfoy looked stunned.

"Give it here," Jane called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"

"Oh, yeah?" Said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but he was looking worried.

Jane knew, somehow, what to do. She leant forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands and it shot towards Malfoy like a javelin.

Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; Jane made a sharp about turn and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy" Jane called. The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy.

"Catch it if you can, then!' he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back towards the ground.

Jane saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall. She leant forward and pointed her broom handle down – next second she was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball – wind whistled in her ears, mingled with the screams of people watching – she stretched out her hand – a foot from the ground she caught it, just in time to pull her broom straight, and she toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in her fist.

"Jane POTTER!"

Jane's heart sank faster than she'd just dived. Professor McGonagall was running towards them. Jane got to her feet, trembling.

"Never – in all my time at Hogwarts –" Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously,

"– how dare you – might have broken your neck"

"It wasn't her fault, Professor –'

'Be quiet, Mr Granger –'

"But Malfoy –"

"That's enough, Mr Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."

Jane caught sight of Hermione Bishop looking condescending and smug and Jane knew she was going to get an unwanted and unnecessary lecture that night in the seemed to have nominated herself as the group's mother.

Then Jane saw Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle's triumphant faces as she left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall's wake as she strode towards the castle. Jane wondered if she really was going to be expelled.

Jane wanted to say something to defend herself, but there seemed to be something wrong with her voice. Professor McGonagall was sweeping along without even looking at her, Jane had to jog to keep up.

Now she'd done it. Had she really not even lasted

two weeks. Jane wondered if she would be packing her bags in ten minutes time ready to go home. What would the Dursleys say if she turned up on the doorstep?

Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still Professor McGonagall didn't say a word to her. McGonagall wrenched open doors and marched along corridors with Jane trotting miserably behind her. Maybe she was taking her to Dumbledore.

Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside.

"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"

Wood? thought Jane, bewildered; was Wood a cane she was going to use on her?

But Wood turned out to be a person, a burly fifth-year boy who came out of Flitwick's class looking confused.

"Follow me, you two," said Professor McGonagall, and they marched on up the corridor, Wood looking curiously at Jane and Jane looked back at him just as confused.

"In here." Professor McGonagall pointed them into a classroom which was empty except for Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard.

"Out, Peeves!" she barked.

Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which clanged loudly, and he swooped out cursing. Professor McGonagall slammed the door behind him and turned to face the two confused students.

"Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood – I've found you a Seeker."

Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight.

"Are you serious, Professor?"

"Absolutely," aid Professor McGonagall crisply. "She's a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?"

Jane nodded silently. She didn't have a clue what was going on, but she didn't seem to be being expelled, and some of the feeling started coming back to her legs.

"She caught that thing in her hand after a fifty-foot dive," Professor McGonagall told Wood. "Didn't even scratch herself. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."

Wood was now looking as though all his dreams had come true at once.

"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?" He asked excitedly. Jane shook her head.

"Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team," Professor McGonagall explained.

"She's just the build for a Seeker, too," said Wood, now walking around Jane and staring at her.

"Light – speedy – we'll have to get her a decent broom, Professor – a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say."

"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape in the face for weeks …"

Professor McGonagall peered sternly over her glasses at Jane.

"I want to hear you're training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind about punishing you."

Then she suddenly smiled.

"Your father would have been proud," she said. "He was an excellent Quidditch player himself."

"You're joking."

It was dinner time. Jane had just finished telling Ron and Jack what had happened when she'd left the grounds with Professor McGonagall.

Ron had a piece of steak-and-kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he'd forgotten all about it.

"Seeker?" he said.

"But I thought first-years never made the house teams" Jack said, hewas sitting with his fork resting in his plate of bangers and mash.

"Jane you must be the youngest house player in about –" Ron paused. "in about….in about a…."

"– a century," said Harry, shovelling pie into her mouth. She felt particularly hungry after the excitement of the afternoon.

"Wood told me." She added as they looked at her.

Ron was so amazed, so impressed, he just sat and gaped at Jane. Jack, who was sitting in an equal state of awe struck shock, seemed to have forgotten they were at dinner.

"I start training next week," said Jane. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret." She added

Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall, spotted Jane and hurried over.

"Well done," said George in a low voice.

"Wood told us." Fred added in an equally low voice.

"We're on the team too, we're Beaters." Explained Fred

"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch Cup for sure this year," said Fred.

"We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is going to be brilliant"

"You must be good, Jane, 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."

Fred and George had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcome turned up.

Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"

"You're a lot braver now you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Jane coolly.

There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl.

"I'd take you on any time on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want. Magical duel. Wands only – no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course she has," said Ron, wheeling round. "I'm her second, who's yours?"

Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.

"Crabbe," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room, that's always unlocked."

When Malfoy had gone, Jack and Jane looked at each other and then turned to look at Ron.

"What is a magical duel?' asked Jack

"And what do you mean, you're my second?" Jane added

"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," said Ron casually, getting started at last on his cold pie. Catching the looks on Jack's and Jane's face, he added quickly,

"but people only die in proper duels, you know, with real witches and 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."

"And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?" Jane said

"Throw it away and punch him on the nose," Ron suggested.

"Or knee him in the nuts" Jack added in a way too casual tone of voice.

"Excuse me."

They all looked up. It was Hermione Bishop.

"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Ron.

Hermione ignored him and spoke to Jane.

"I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying"

"Bet you could," Jack muttered.

"– 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," said Jane.

"Yeah so Goodbye,"said Ron.

All the same, it wasn't what you'd call the perfect end to the day, Jane thought, as she lay awake much later listening to the others fall asleep. Hermione seemed to have hidden herself behind the hangings.

Ron and Jack had spent all evening giving her advice such as

"If he tries to curse you, you'd better dodge it, because I can't remember how to block them"

"I know there's a shield charm but I'm not sure how to cast it"

There was a very good chance they were going to get caught by Filch or Mrs Norris, and Jane felt she was pushing her luck, breaking another school rule today.

On the other hand, Malfoy's sneering face kept looming up out of the darkness – this was her big chance to beat Malfoy, face to face. She couldn't miss it.

At half past eleven, she pulled on her dressing-gowns, picked up her wand and crept across the tower room, down the spiral staircase and into the Gryffindor common room. Ron and Jack were waiting for her, both wearing PJ'S and dressing gowns.

A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows.

They had almost reached the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them:

"I can't believe you're going to do this, Jane."

A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione Bishop, wearing a pink dressing-gown and a frown.

"What the hell are you doing here" snarled Jack

"Bloody hell" said Ron furiously "Go back to bed!"

"I almost told your brother," Hermione snapped. "Percy – he's a Prefect, he'd put a stop to this."

Jane couldn't believe anyone could be so interfering.

"Come on," she said to Ron and Jack. She pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the hole.

Hermione wasn't going to give up that easily. She followed Jack through the portrait hole, hissing at them like an angry goose.

"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."

"I got more points than you in class today, because I was the one that achieved the most difference during practical work, so don't even go their" Jack snapped

"Why don't you just go away and leave us alone" Ron snarled at her.

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

But what they were, they didn't find out. Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a night-time visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor Tower.

"Now what am I going to do?" She asked shrilly.

"That's your problem," said Jack.

"Yeah, we've got to go, we're going to be late." Ron said

They hadn't even reached the end of the corridor when Hermione caught up with them.

"I'm coming with you," she said.

"You are not." Snarled Ron

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

"You've got some nerve –" said Jack loudly.

"Shut up,!" said Jane sharply. "I heard something."

It was a sort of snuffling.

"Mrs Norris?" Breathed Ron, squinting through the dark.

It wasn't Mrs Norris. It was Neville. He was curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as they crept nearer.

"Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours. I couldn't remember the new password to get into bed."

"Keep your voice down, Neville. The password's 'Pig snout' but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere." Jack told him kindly

"How's your arm?" Asked Jane.

"Fine," said Neville, showing them. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute."

"Good – well, look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later –"

"Don't leave me!"said Neville, scrambling to his feet. "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already."

Ron looked at his watch and then glared furiously at Hermione and Neville.

"If either of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learnt that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about and used it on you."

"I'll help you" Jack told him

Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps to tell Ron and Jack exactly how to use the Curse of the Bogies, but Jane hissed at her to be quiet and beckoned them all forward.

They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows.

At every turn Jane expected to run into Filch or Mrs Norris, but they were lucky. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed towards the trophy room. Malfoy and Crabbe weren't there yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields,

plates and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room.

Jane took out her wand in case Malfoy leapt in

and started at once. The minutes crept by.

"He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Ron whispered.

Then a noise in the next room made them jump. Jane had only just raised her wand when they heard someone speak – and it wasn't Malfoy.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner." It was Filch speaking to Mrs Norris. Horror-struck, Jane waved madly at the other three to follow him as quickly as possible; they scurried silently towards the door away from

Filch's voice. Neville's robes had barely whipped round the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room.

"They're in here somewhere," they heard him mutter, "probably hiding."

"This way!" Jane mouthed to the others and, petrified, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armour.

They could hear Filch getting nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run – he tripped, grabbed Hermione around the waist and the pair of them toppled right into a suit of armour.

The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.

"RUN!" Jane yelled and the four of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following – they swung around the doorpost and galloped down one

corridor then another, Jane in the lead without any idea where they were or where they were going. They ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled

along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him," Jane panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering.

"I – told – you,' Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest. "I – told – you."

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor Tower," said Ron, "And as quickly as possible."

Jack gasped and turned to Jane

"Malfoy tricked you," he said to Jane. "You realise that, don't you? He was never going to meet you – Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off."

Jane nodded, she knew he was right.

"Come on, Let's go."

It wasn't going to be that simple. They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them. It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.

"Shut up, Peeves – please – you'll get us thrown out."

Peeves cackled.

"Wandering around at midnight, ickle firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly.

"It's for your own good, you know."

"Get out of the way," snapped Ron, taking a swipe at Peeves –this was a big mistake.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed. "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Ducking under Peeves they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor, where they slammed into a door – and it was locked.

"This is it!" Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door.

"We're done for! This is the end!"

They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could towards Peeves's shouts.

"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled and she moved to grab Jane's wand, but before she could. Jack had pulled out his own and stepped in front of the door.

"Alohomora!" He whispered

The lock clicked and the door swung open – they piled through it, shut it quickly and pressed their ears against it, listening.

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."

"Say 'please'"

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

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying sing-song voice.

"All right – please."

"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.

"He thinks this door is locked," Jane whispered. "I think we'll be OK – get off, Neville!"

For Neville had been tugging on the sleeve of Jane's dressing-gown for the last minute. "What?" Jane turned around – and saw, quite clearly, what.

For a moment, she was sure she'd walked into a nightmare – this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far.

They weren't in a room, as she had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog which filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Jane knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was

quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

Jane groped for the doorknob – between Filch and death, she'd take Filch.

They fell backwards – Jane slammed the door shut, and they ran, they almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else because they didn't

see him anywhere, but they hardly cared – all they wanted to do was put as much space as possible between them and that monster.

They didn't stop running until they reached the

portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.

"Where on earth have you all been?" she asked, looking at their dressing-gowns hanging off their shoulders and their flushed, sweaty faces.

"Never mind that" Jack snapped

"Yeah" added Ron

" pig snout, pig snout," Jane yelled, and the portrait swung forward. They scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs.

It was a while before any of them said anything. Neville, indeed, looked as if he'd never speak again.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" Jack muttered finally.

'Yep I mean if any dog needs exercise, that one does." Ron added and everyone except Hermione laughed weakly.

Hermione who had got both her breath and her bad temper back glared at them.

"You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" Ron suggested.

"I don't know" said Jack with a shrug

"Neither do I, I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads." Jane snapped irritated

"No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something." Hermione snarled condescendingly. She stood up, glaring at them.

"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."

Ron stared after her, his mouth open.

"No, we don't mind," he said.

"Honestly you'd think we dragged her along, wouldn't you?" Jack said looking at Ron and Jane

But Hermione had given Jane something else to think about as she climbed back into bed. The dog was guarding something … What had Dumbeldore said? Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to hide – except perhaps Hogwarts.

It looked as though Jane had found out where the grubby little package from vault seven hundred and thirteen was.