Hermione's paranoid squeaks surely would've given her away had Filch and Mrs. Norris been in near vicinity; every puff of evening wind from the windows she thought to be Filch breathing down her neck, while every brushing of her robes' hem against her ankle she mistook for Mrs. Norris's tail.
All of this for one bespectacled Potter boy.
The trophy room...the trophy room...Where –?!
Hermione covered her mouth to trap her startled gasp at the eerie glow that came hovering around a corridor within the second floor. Professor Poe. She pressed her spine against the wall while he floated down a corridor opposite her destination.
The ghost stared ahead, thankfully not noticing her as he hopelessly sighed, "Lenore...Lenore...My sorrow for the lost Lenore. 'Tis some visitor tapping at my chamber door. Only this and nothing more..."
Professor Poe made his way down the corridor, gradually becoming a fading spotlight, and Hermione took off again. Strenuous and furtive moments of flitting through endless halls eventually brought her through the threshold of the trophy room on the third floor. Hermione then froze on the spot at the cups, shields, plates, and statues that winked silver and gold in the darkness. On the awards were plaques that held names of Hogwarts alumni engraved in perpetual exaltation. The collective sparkling of the countless trophies nearly reflected the ambitious twinkling in the young girl's eyes – her yearning to have at least one award with her name engraved upon it and immortalized in this hall of greatness.
What would her trophy read?
"Hermione Granger: Scholastic Prodigy of Slytherin House!" she whispered in answer to her internal inquire. "Oh, yes..."
At the sound of the hushed whispers at the other end of the room, Hermione was reminded of what had brought her here. Harry and Ron both withdrew their wands when they heard the shuffling of her footsteps.
"Nice to see you on time, Malfoy," Ron spoke daringly. "We're ready for whatever you have to throw at us!"
"Malfoy isn't coming, Weasley," Hermione sighed, allowing the beaming moonlight to identify her.
"Hermione?" Harry gasped, lowering his wand. "What are you doing here?"
"Catching you before Filch does," she hissed with urgency. "Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle never planned on showing up – they've tricked you. I overheard them in the library. The two of you need to get back to – Neville?"
Hermione hadn't expected to see Gryffindor's meekest member participating in this ridiculous duel. He simply smiled awkwardly and waved at her.
"He forgot the password and got locked out of the common room," Ron answered to her puzzled expression, "but the Fat Lady was gone. Malfoy, that miserable –!"
The four of them jumped at a sound in a nearby room.
"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."
It was Filch talking to Mrs. Norris.
"Oh...He's told Filch!" Hermione moaned.
The children all wore masks of matching horror. Hermione felt her hand seized by a fearful grip. Thinking it was Neville, she turned with a comforting smile that converted to a blank stare when she saw that the hand belonged to Harry.
"Hermione, come with us!" he hissed. She wouldn't argue against it, for the sudden contact with him made her briefly mute.
Harry gently pulled her along while waving for Ron and Neville to follow them down a long gallery of suits of armor. As entranced as Hermione had been by the awe-inspiring collection of awards, the suits of armor she felt were a little over-dramatic for school...
We're trying to escape Filch, Hermione. Critique the surroundings later.
When they could hear Filch growing nearer, Neville let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run – before tripping and grabbing onto Ron's waist, causing them both to topple and crash into a suit of armor. The noise thwarted any chance of a quiet escape.
"IDIOTS!" Hermione wanted to shriek at them both. But the chance of Filch recognizing her voice stopped her.
"RUN!" Harry yelled. And the four of them were sprinting down the gallery and swinging around the doorpost. Once again, Hermione found herself scuttling about through the corridors, the notable differences being her three male companions. One of whom never let go of her hand as they fled...
Hermione was too out of breath to ask Harry if he knew where they were going as they ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway.
"Harry – ten seconds, please," Hermione panted, desperately planting her feet to the floor.
They all took the moment to regather the air in their lungs. Harry let go of Hermione's hand to pat her shoulder.
"You came all the way to the trophy room to warn us," Harry said with knackered gratitude, "and it wasn't even your fight. Thank you."
"Save your thanks until we're all safe in our common rooms," she replied.
They crept along the passageway in silence and came out near the Charms classroom, which was miles away from the trophy room.
"Okay, boys, this is where we must part," Hermione whispered. "You three find your way back to Gryffindor Tower. I have to get back down to the dun–"
A doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.
As if their situation wasn't dire enough...Peeves.