"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 his hushed confession. Almost lose in awe, I whispered, "You made the team… as a first-year? Without any formal training? But… how! There's a rule that we can't even have our broomsticks here!"
Harry simply shrugged, his grin persisting. "I start training next week. But don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."
I whistled long and low, doing everything I could to ignore the envy swirling around in my gut. Harry had it in the bag, while I would have to wait for another full year before auditioning, and even then it wasn't guaranteed I'd make the team.
Before I could decide how to best handle my jealousy, Fred and George Weasley approached us, manic smiles on their faces. It was George who slapped a hand on Harry's shoulder and 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. The boys and I exchanged looks and brief laughs as we set off for the dining hall for our well-deserved supper—but as soon as our laughs had started, they ended.
Standing in front of us was Draco Malfoy, looking incredibly pleased with himself… and of course, in his shadow were Crabbe and Goyle. Wiggling an eyebrow, he taunted, "Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"
"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said 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. Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose, Potter?"
"Course he has," spat Ron, darting forward. "I'm his second, who's yours?"
Malfoy turned around and looked between the two cronies flanking him 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.
We went and took a seat at our table, as we were starving. As soon as it was determined that no one else was listening to us, Harry leaned over 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 already 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 turned around; I restrained a groan to see Hermione Granger of all people standing there. She was sizing us up, a thinly veiled look of displeasure on her face.
"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" Ron grumbled.
Hermione didn't seem to hear this—or if she did, she ignored it. Turning to Harry, she 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. Nosy she might be, but 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, "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. All we brought were 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, a familiar voice exclaimed, "I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry."
Harry closed his eyes, but not before I noted that they were rolling back in his head.
"You!" hissed Ron. "Go back to bed!"
"I almost told your brother, Percy—he's a prefect, he'd put a stop to this," said Hermione, whose arms were crossed and whose lips were fixed in a pout.
Instead of entertaining her ranting, Harry seemed to wish to move forward. Without a word, he stepped through the portrait hole and was followed by Ron, then myself… and then, Hermione, and as we clambered through the exit, she continued speaking. "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—"
She stopped speaking.
Rather surprised by her abrupt silence, I turned to see what made her freeze. I almost snorted upon noting that he portrait of the Fat Lady was empty, which meant Hermione was unable to go back inside the common room.
Hermione seemed to come to the same conclusion. Her face went slack. "Now what am I going to do?"
Ron snickered and shook his head. "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."
The backs of Ron's ears went red. "You've got some nerve—"
My heart leapt to my throat due to the racket they were starting to make, and that was without even mentioning that I'd started hearing a strange snuffling noise. "Shut up!" I whispered, holding up a hand. Fortunately, Ron heeded my command; it didn't take long to locate the source of the new sound. Lying on the ground on a few meters away was Neville, fitfully asleep.
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 had regathered his wits, however, he broke into a relieved smile and quietly exclaimed, "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. "It's 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!" he cried, eyes flying 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 all the while, before jamming a finger 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 tense. Every corridor we passed by, I inspected thoroughly before passing through. There were no students, no teachers—it was eerie, how quiet the castle was at night. The thing I was most afraid of was running into either Filch or his cat, Mrs. Norris, but somehow, we were incredibly lucky.
When we arrived at the trophy room, we split up 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, of either us or Filch. But 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 illuminate the place. That didn't make our adversary any easier to find, however. The five of us ended up meeting back in the center of the room with one thing known for sure: Malfoy wasn't around.
"Maybe he's chickened out," Ron was the first to say.
But before anyone could toss out another idea, a noise in the next room made us gasp and whirl around.
"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner…"
Filch.
Harry immediately sprinted to the opposite side of the room, waving an arm for us to follow. We did so without complaint and darted around the corner just as Filch opened the door to the trophy room, muttering, "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 Neville, terrified out of his wits as he was, broke into a sprint and tripped. He grabbed onto Ron as he went down; the two of them collided straight into a suit of armor.
The sound was deafening. I rushed forth to yank the boys to their feet, and the moment we were all standing again, Harry yelled, "RUN!"
I pushed Neville and Ron in front of me, sprinting as fast as I could, and dared 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 felt 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, which was 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, like a galloping unicorn. I turned to Harry and threw my hands in the air, angrily exclaiming, "Malfoy, that absolute b—he did it again, tricked us and tried to get us expelled."
Harry laughed sourly and began wiping his dirty glasses onto his shirt. "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 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?"
Out from the side of the wall popped Peeves the poltergeist, his head having emerged 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 while hovering above us all in malicious delight. "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 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 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 what I hoped was respect, but was likely just amusement.
Hoping that this had been enough to earn his favor, I said, "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 exaggerated thought, humming and harrumphing to himself. After a moment, he pointed that finger at me again. "I like you, Dumbbell. But I also like bothering Filch… so I'll do you the greatest of favors and give you a ten second heads-up!"
His face grew incredibly devious as he began counting down from the number ten.
I turned to my friends with wide eyes. "Hide."
We darted around the corner, the countdown echoing inside my head. Three… two… one…
"STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED BY THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"
Zero.
I launched into a door and pulled on the handle only to find that it was locked. "Bloody—!" The lock wouldn't budge.
"Move, move!" shrieked Hermione, pointing her wand at the handle. "Alohomora!" The lock was free; she yanked open the door and ushered us inside, shutting it swift and soft behind us.
No sooner had this been done than we heard Filch enter the Charms corridor, wheezing. Through a ragged rasp, he demanded, "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, who decided to accompany his nonsense with a coquettish giggle.
Filch sighed in remonstration. "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… footsteps were trailing in the opposite direction, back towards the trophy room. We sighed 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 fangs about the size of our heads.
Harry thrust the door open, and we all piled out of the forbidden corridor, the dog barking loudly as we escaped. It began pawing at the door, trying to follow us—but 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, 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 the events of the night.
Silence reigned for a few minutes as we regained our breath and simply processed everything that had just happened. It was Ron who broke that silence, angry and confused as he cried, "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."
I exchanged a look with Harry, who seemed far from convinced.
Hermione launched to her feet. Glaring at us, she 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. Good night, you guys."
"Good night, Neville," we all replied, and then he was off as well.
Once he was gone, the three of us exchanged looks. Ron grinned over at me and murmured, "What do you think she was on about, that giant dog standing on a trap door? That's… that's mad, isn't it?"
Neither Harry nor I replied to this statement. On the one hand, Hermione was a smart girl—perhaps the smartest in the whole year. If she said she saw the dog standing upon a trapdoor, it might do well to listen to her. On the other, we were all exhausted and manic from being chased by Filch. It was possible she had misremembered something…
Seeing as we were all exhausted, we ended the conversation there and said our good nights. 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.
What the three-headed dog could be guarding…
But I knew that it would hardly be helpful to stay awake thinking. Hoping that this would be the most exciting thing to happen for a while, I closed my eyes and drifted off into what would hopefully be a peaceful sleep.
