This next chapter is only for those HP fans out there, my friends, who read this. No reviews, as usual.
To my luck, the bell rang shrilly, carrying to all parts of the castle and grounds. During the rest of the day, I began planing. Well, actually, not began, rather continued finalizing my plans. Ann and I passed some befuddled teachers in the hallway, whispering to themselves.
"We could try just soaking the adhesive in water." protested the teacher of Muggle Studies. "That's what works with muggle tape."
"Whoever did it obviously enforced the adhesive with some unbreakable charm." argued Professor Flitwick.
I had to work hard to resist the urge to snigger at them. Teachers can be so stupid sometimes.
The rest of the day went by swiftly, with Ann constantly bugging for more hints.
"Please?" she pleaded at lunch.
"No, no, and for the thousandth time, no!" I snapped back.
"Please? Just tell me what room?"
"No!"
Ann and I stayed up together until quarter-to 10, when I had to leave. She continued to pester and badger me throughout the night. We were going back and forth, her "please"s and my "no"s, as I backed out of the hole in the wall. I shut the door on her irritating voice.
The potions room really wasn't that far away, but I allowed for time to get lost. I didn't bring the Marauder's Map, afraid it might be discovered. I used up all of my extra time, spending the next fifteen minutes wandering around the gloomy stone corridors. I finally reached the great wooden door I was looking for, five minutes late.
"You're late." Peeves protested, as soon as I entered the room.
"I still need to get the hang of this castle." I answered, shutting the door behind me.
"So, what will I be learning today?" he asked, impatiently. I thought a moment before deciding how to catagorize what we were set out to do.
"Lesson 1: The Art of Framing." I said, matter-of-factly. The poltergeist's eyes glittered maliciously.
"Who's the target?" he questioned.
"Potter." I answered expressionlessly, getting out some supplies from my bag: my wand, several small vials of oddly-colored potions, and a small piece of paper with notes scribbled on it. "Now it's time to watch a master at work."
"Now, I suppose you think I'm going to tell you all about it, don't you?" she asked, tauntingly. Her daughter nodded her head eagerly. She laughed, amused at the anxious look on the girl's young face.
"A true artist never reveals her secrets." she said, waving her index finger scoldingly. The young girl looked downward, sadly. The mother laughed again. "Don't worry," she said, reassuringly, "I'll tell you everything in due time. I want you to figure things out on your own."
"But why can't you tell me now?" she whined.
"Later." her mother answered. "But do you want to hear what the result was?" The young girl's head bobbed up and down energetically. "Very well." she said, before continuing her narrative.
Both Peeves and I worked late into the night. Often, teachers passed the room in the process of patrolling the corridors. To make sure we weren't interrupted, Peeves would erupt into his normal noisy antics. Sometimes, the footsteps would pause for a moment at the door, but they always continued on their way, clicking methodically down the corridor.
Finally, wiping a little sweat off my brow, I breathed a deep sigh of relief.
"Alright, Peeves, pack up. We're done." On my command, Peeves replaced all the articles we had used in their respective places. He straitened the desks we had pushed to the side for more working space and cleaned up any small drop of potion left, except the necessary ones. When we left, the room looked almost exactly as though noone had been there. It was the "almost" that made the plan perfect.
"I hope you learned some valuable tricks today, Peeves?" I said, looking expectantly at the little man bobbing upside down at my eye level.
"Some tricks, yes." he answered. "But I hope the next lesson can be more useful in everyday life." He pouted his lips testily at me.
"Alright, you want better tips on terrorizing the students, correct?" I replied. He nodded silently. "Next time, but only if you'll give me your word that you won't use anything I teach you on either myself or my friends."
Peeves simply glared at me. I glared back. We stayed there, locked in our staring contest, for some minutes. It was only broken when I yawned, covering my mouth with the back of my hand.
"Look," I said finally, "we can stay here all night, but I'd really rather not. Just give me your word, for whatever its worth, and we can both go to bed."
"Fine." Peeves pouted. "You have my word." I smiled tiredly, slinging my bag over my shoulder and turned to leave.
I listened at the door for footsteps and heard none. Cracking the door open, I poked my head out and looked both directions before deeming it safe to leave the potions room. Moving as quickly and quietly as possible, I hurried down the passageways that led to the common room. Thankfully, I had memorized the correct way to get back.
"Pureblood." I said loudly, waking the disgruntled double-ended snake from what seemed to be a sound sleep.
"What're you doing up thissss late?" hissed the top head.
"Just open up, will 'ya?" I snapped, very irritable because it was so late.
"No need to be sssso upsssset." the bottom head replied testily as the portrait swung forward.
I climbed into the common room to find it deserted. A few remaining coals still glimmered faintly in the grate. Scuffing my feet, I dragged myself over to the entrance of the girl's dormitory. But then, I felt as though I was being watched. I instantly turned on my heel to find . . .
"Malfoy." I said coldly, my eyes already narrowing into suspicious slits.
"Oh no!" the little girl gasped. "You were caught!"
"Now don't go jumping to conclusions," her mother scolded, "and let me continue my story."
"Jen." Draco replied, his grey eyes flashing. His light hair hung lazily about his face. He wore a dark green satin bathrobe that fell loosely around his slim frame and matching satin slippers. Draco was looking at me smugly, like a little kid who had just gotten the cookie jar down where he could reach it, leaning against one of the tall armchairs by the fireplace.
"What are you doing, staying awake all this time." I spoke, doing my best to sound casual.
"I should be asking you the same thing." he retorted, now glaring at me.
"I had something to do."
"Oh really?" Malfoy answered skeptically. "It must have been very important," he remarked, his tone rising, "seeing as it's one o'clock in the morning."
"It simply couldn't wait." I replied, trying to keep a resenting growl out of my voice. "Now why don't you get off to bed, Malfoy," I growled, in spite of my efforts, "and we'll forget about this little incident."
"No, I don't think that's going to work." he said, casually thumbing his nose at me. "I think," he stood up strait and started advancing toward me, "you're going to tell me all about your little plot," Malfoy's voice raised threateningly, "unless you want me to tell Snape about your nighttime wanderings. And trust me," he was now very close to me, almost whispering in my ear, "he's not always kind to Slytherins."
I backed away from him quickly and cautiously, still eyeing him suspiciously.
"What can I do instead of telling you what I was up to?" I asked, hopefully. Malfoy's eyes narrowed, and he looked as though he was about to say 'nothing' when I blurted out, "Twenty questions!"
He scrunched his face up as though he had just smelt something particularly fowl.
"What kind of ignorant child do you think I . . ."
"You get to ask me twenty yes-or-no questions." I interrupted, continuing to think quickly. "If, after the end, you can't figure out what I did, you lose and have to go to bed. If you figure it out before the twenty questions are up, you get exactly what you stayed up for."
"Never in a million," he started, but I interrupted him again.
"What?" I taunted. "Don't you trust your own wits?" Malfoy glared at me, but he couldn't resist a challenge.
"Alright." he consented. "First question: what room did you stay in all this time?"
"I'm not going to answer that! I said yes-or-no questions. But you just wasted you first one. Nineteen left, so use them wisely." I answered.
"Very well." he grumbled. "Were you in the dungeons?"
"Yes. Eighteen questions." I was counting every used question out loud, hoping it would intimidate him a little.
"Were you in the potions classroom?" he asked.
"Yup. Seventeen questions left." I replied.
"Were you concocting some sort of joke or prank?"
"Yes."
"With Peeves?"
"Uh huh." I affirmed, with a nod. "Fifteen questions left."
"Is Snape at the end of the joke?"
"No, I'm not stupid enough to do something to a teacher." I answered. Well, actually I did something to Dumbledore, but I wouldn't attempt something of that magnitude again so soon. I thought.
"Alright then," Malfoy seemed to be thinking, but with him you couldn't tell, "Is Snape somehow involved?"
"Yes. That leaves only thirteen questions."
"Am I the butt of the joke?"
"Nope, not you." I replied, shaking my head a little. Not this time, anyways.
"Are either Crabb or Goyle the butt of the joke?"
"I could discredit that question under technicality, but the answer's no. Eleven questions left." I said, yawning a little. "And hurry them up, I want to get to bed."
"I'll take as long as I want." he growled. "Next question: are any other Slytherins getting the bad end of the prank."
"No. Half of the questions gone and half left." I reminded him.
"I know. I can count too, 'ya know." he retorted, very irritated.
"Someone's cranky."
"Yeah, well, you would be too if you'd been sitting in an empty room for hours waiting up for someone you don't even like." Malfoy complained. "Anyone from Ravenclaw involved?"
"No."
"Hufflepuff?"
"Nope." I answered. "Only eight left."
"Anyone in Griffindor?"
"Yes! Wow, Malfoy," I said, playing with his irritability, "that's the sixth question you've gotten a 'yes' answer."
"Will you shut up!" he yelled.
"Oh, so now you don't want to know what I was doing?" I teased.
"Yes, I do, but . . . oh forget it!" he shouted, throwing his arms into the air in defeat. "I'm to tired to deal with you anymore." Malfoy stomped into his dormitory, grumbling, and forcefully slammed the door behind him.
"So your, um, 'skills' at annoying people actually payed off?" the young daughter asked, sounding more than a little surprised.
"Yes they did, and more than once." the mother answered.
"You said you were going to tell me the results of your efforts." complained the small girl. "So why haven't you told me yet?"
"That's next." she replied. "Just have a little . . ."
"Patience, I know." finished the girl. "So, hurry up!"