"Ron, I need to you to come with me tonight." Harry whispered urgently to his friend, as they had retired early before lights out.
"What? What's tonight?" Ron asked blearily.
"Duel, with Malfoy." Harry responded.
"Think he'll have the stones to show up?" Ron asked.
"Ought to, I figure." Harry said slowly, "If he doesn't, we'll know him to be a coward."
They waited upstairs until after lights out, and then a few minutes afterward. Using his Tempus spell under the covers, Harry was able to time it until 10pm, when they slid out of bed, and were downstairs. They slipped by Percy, who was still awake studying.
Outside, they found Neville Longbottom, hopelessly lost and unable to get back in. Ron was quicker than Harry - his hands were already muffling Neville's mouth before the kid could get a word out. Un-fortunately, that meant that the door to the Common Room had closed behind them - and the Fat Lady wasn't there to give the password to.
"We'll just have to take him with us." Harry reasoned, and Ron grinned, overjoyed with the whole adventure concept.
"Where are you going?" Neville asked.
"Trophy Room" Harry responded, wanting to give the lad as little information as possible, in case they needed to make a quick escape.
"Duel. Harry's got one with Malfoy." Ron said, completely oblivious to Harry's wants and needs. As always. Still, he made a great stalking horse.
They were halfway up the stairs, before Neville said, "But what if we get caught?"
Harry shrugged, "Detention. As usual." Ron looked a little more upset, but didn't say another word.
They were up in the Trophy room, looking around at all the brushed trophies gleaming in their cases. Neville asked uncertainly, "When's he supposed to show up?"
"Midnight." Ron responded.
Harry shifted from foot to foot, "Not sure how we're supposed to tell that though."
A long silence stretched out, and then they heard a scraping sound, a clattering clickety clack. They all stilled, trying to be so silent that they dared not breathe.
"Hey, pretty kitty, what have you found?" Filch said from down the hall. "Izzit some rapscallions, out sneaking about?"
Ron broke first, surprisingly enough, and Harry gave an exasperated (and silent) sigh at the ceiling before following him. Neville was behind them, and Harry hissed as he ran, "We've got to stick together."
Well, they stuck together down a hall (hearing the clickety of Filch's shoes pacing down the stairs), and then they were at a dead end, with a locked door.
"Neville, can you open it? You're better than I am at ..." Harry said, and Neville nodded, trying desperately to be brave.
"I can try," He said doubtfully, and waved his wand.
On the fifth try, there was a soft click.
They flung themselves into the room, and Harry had the presence to hold onto the door... slowing it so that it clicked shut, and didn't slam with Ron's full weight on its edge.
Neville, from behind them, temporarily forgotten in their terror, whispered, "Um...guys..."
They turned around, taking caution from his tone. There was a giant, sleeping dog, with three heads! Harry wanted to shriek, Harry wanted to run. But, he thought, slowly taking breaths as he turned his mind into a deeply meditative state, it was still asleep.
"Be vewy vewy quiet." Harry said softly, and the other two boys simply nodded. They waited, and waited some more. As they were preparing to tiptoe out, Harry caught a last glimpse of the dog - rolling in its sleep, its paws moving as if it was fantasizing about freedom, and chasing a three headed rabbit. That was a trapdoor under it.
Harry at last connected the dots, as they were tiptoeing away. That was the third floor corridor. That was certain death.
[a/n: Jeeesus, that's frightening. Remember, these are eleven year olds.]