Chapter 8

The Midnight Duel

Elizabeth spent the next few days pondering all the questions she developed in her first week at Hogwarts; and she found herself no closer to finding an answer to any of them. It would be ridiculous for her to just walk up to Hagrid and ask him if he happened to be involved in the Gringotts break-in. She still hadn't found a way to alter Dumbledore's extensive facial hair; and she dared not even imagine the reaction she would get from Snape, if she toddled up to him during his evening pumpkin juice, and asked him politely what the hell his problem with her brother was. No, she remained stumped.

The dilemmas were driven from her mind, however, on a rainy Sunday morning, as the first years awoke to find a note, addressed to all of them, pinned to the Gryffindor Common Room notice board.

ALL FIRST YEARS

Flying lessons will begin this Thursday hence.

Arrive in your school uniform minus robe. Brooms will be provided. Wands will not be necessary

Times are as follows:

Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff: 1:30pm

Gryffindor and Slytherin: 3:30pm

Lessons will continue at the allotted time every Thursday thereafter.

The location of the lessons is marked on your Timetables

Attendance is Mandatory

Madam R. Hooch

At the first reading of this announcement, a ripple of excitement ran through the common room.

All the Weasley children, excluding Percy, had been or still were on the Gryffindor Quidditch team and Elizabeth made it her mission not to let them down. When Charlie left home, to study dragons in Romania, he had gifted her with one of his old brooms; which he hid in the garden shed away from the prying eyes of Mrs Weasley. Whenever their mother was busy, Elizabeth, Fred and George would sneak out to the field at the back of the Burrow and have mini Quidditch games. This was a lesson she wished she didn't have to wait another four days to start.

The atmosphere in the common room, however, slowly began to darken; as the full extent of what this tiny piece of paper revealed was understood. Gryffindor would have this lesson with the Slytherins. A chorus of groans rang throughout the cosy, little room. At this point, Elizabeth didn't care, she was just excited to fly again. Her housemates did not share her sentiments, it seemed, they weren't happy about this arrangement, at all.

"Typical," said Harry. "Just what I need. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick, in front of Malfoy." Elizabeth rolled her eyes. From her perspective, this feud between Harry and Draco had seemed to pop up out of nowhere, and Elizabeth found herself wanting to bash their head together and tell them to grow up. The image made her giggle to herself, earning her a few funny looks which she shrugged off.

Although Malfoy wasn't doing himself any favours. She, at least once, heard him complaining, loudly, about how first years weren't allowed in the house Quidditch teams. She had also found herself looking for a way to deflate his over-sized ego, when she overheard him telling boastful stories. All of which seemed to end with him narrowly avoiding muggle helicopters.

In fairness to Draco, he wasn't the only one. If Seamus Finnegan was to be believed, he spent most of his childhood whizzing around the countryside on a broomstick.

Even Ron started telling stories, about how he almost hit a hand-glider on Charlie's old broom. Not true, of course, as the scar above Elizabeth's left knee would attest. She looked at the twins; Fred sent her a disbelieving look at his brother's blatant lie; whilst George seemed to be staring off into space, still somewhat haunted by the memory. She knew he still blamed himself, it had been his fault she was flying so high. He had challenged her and didn't keep an eye on where she flew. She only ended up with a broken ankle and a gashed knee, but George spent the next few weeks treating her as if she had almost died. Molly decided, after much yelling and screaming, that it would be safer for them to play in the front garden after that. If she couldn't stop them, at least she could keep an eye on them.

Turning back to Fred, Elizabeth smiled and shrugged. After all, the truth would be revealed on the Quidditch pitch.

Elizabeth did come to one realisation, due to the recent announcement. Wizarding families seem to talk about Quidditch, all the time.

According to Neville, Ron had already partaken in a heated disagreement with, muggleborn, Dean Thomas, about Football. He could not seem to understand, no matter how hard Dean tried, what was so interesting about a game played with only one ball, where no one was allowed to fly. Dean tried to explain to Ron that muggles didn't know how to fly, but was completely ignored in favour of Ron's closing argument. "What's the bloody point in a game which only lasts ninety minutes? It's ridiculous!"

Neville, himself, had never been on a broom. He told them all about how his grandmother had never let him near one, and the whole common room silently agreed; this had probably been a good decision on her part.

Hermione Granger was as terrified as Neville was. It was strange seeing Miss Granger not prepared for a class; unnerving almost. If it had been anything else Elizabeth would have been rejoicing at finally being better than her at something. As it was, she remembered the fear that had coursed through her veins the first time she had gone to fly. She could only imagine what Hermione was feeling, especially after only recently discovering that broomstick flight was even possible. This was not something you could learn entirely out of a book.

But, that did not mean Hermione was not going to try.

Thursday morning arrived, and Hermione was boring them with facts she had found in a book from the library. Quidditch through the Ages by Kennilworthy Whisp. If Hermione had bothered to ask she could have borrowed Elizabeth's copy she honestly didn't mind.

Both Elizabeth and Neville were listening, intently to Hermione's every word. Neville was looking for any little tidbit that might help him to cling onto his broom later. Elizabeth, on the other hand, had come to realise that this was Hermione's way of calming herself. Remembering the fear once more, Elizabeth came to the conclusion that if what the annoying, curly haired girl needed was someone to listen, then she could at least try; if only for nine year old self.

Hermione's lecture was cut short at the arrival of the post. Barney swooped down in front of her, dropping a letter (which appeared to be from Ginny,) and that mornings copy of the Daily Prophet; before flying off into the flutter of other owls.

He was replaced only moments later, by another Barn owl, which proceeded to leave Neville a package from his grandmother and flying off a second later; stopping only momentarily to steal a scrap of bacon from Neville's plate.

Neville tore open the package excitedly, and showed them all 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." Elizabeth couldn't help but feel this was a gigantic understatement. Having prevented Neville from running out of the portrait hole, to head to charms, in his school shirt, tie, pyjama bottoms and fluffy slippers only a few days ago.

"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.

Harry and Ron jumped to their feet. It seemed they were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy. Elizabeth found herself rolling her eyes again, she had seemed to be doing this a lot lately; especially where her brothers were concerned, and more often than not when it involved a certain blonde. But Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than Ron would smell bacon, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly threw the Remembrall back at Neville; Elizabeth catching it as it slipped through his fingers.

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

At three-thirty that afternoon, the Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto 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 toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance. Elizabeth couldn't wait to feel that gentle autumn breeze in her hair, it was perfect weather for flying.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Elizabeth knew Fred and George Weasley always complained about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left. Now that she was here she understood why. These brooms were old, in her opinion, they looked almost older than Dumbledore and that was most definitely an achievement.

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."

Elizabeth glanced down at her broom, it had certainly seen better days.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!"'

"UP" everyone shouted.

Elizabeth's broom jumped into her hand at once, and she noticed Harry's do the same, but they were only two of the few that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. And it would continue to do exactly that, if the slight quiver remained in Neville's voice.

Broomsticks were like dogs, they could sense fear. It had been George who had told her that she would never get anywhere if she feared the broom. "After all," he had said. "A broom's like a wand, only as dangerous as the person in control of it. As long as you know what you are doing, you'll be fine. And you've got two of the best teachers around, ain't that right, Fred?" From that day on she had never feared flying again.

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. Elizabeth couldn't resist a chuckle, and noticed her delight mirrored on her brothers faces, when Madam Hooch 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 forward slightly. On my whistle – three – two -"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and terrified 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. Elizabeth wanted nothing more than to fly up there and help him, but she of all people knew she was likely to do more damage than good, so crossed her fingers praying Neville would be OK. She 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 toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

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

"Broken wrist," Elizabeth heard her mutter, and she let out a breath she hadn't realised she had been holding; it could have been a lot worse. "Come on, boy – it's all right, up you get."

Professor Hooch 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?"

The other Slytherins joined in, for a few days now Elizabeth had noticed that, within the Slytherin first-years, what Draco said went. Yes, she was certainly going to have drop his ego a shrinking solution at some point.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

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

"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 Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch. This situation, Elizabeth decided, was slowly becoming one that Fred and George would have referred to as a "spectator sport moment." In other words, sit back, grab some popcorn, and watch events transpire.

Malfoy smiled nastily.

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

"Give it here!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. Not too surprised, Elizabeth realised he hadn't been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it…MR Potter!"

Harry grabbed his broom.

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

Clearly ignoring her Harry mounted his broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared; there was screams and gasps from the girls in the little huddle of first-years and an admiring whoop from Ron. Elizabeth stayed silent. She would never deny that her brother seemed to be a natural flier, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

Harry turned his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in mid-air. Malfoy looked stunned, a sentiment that Elizabeth couldn't help but share.

"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!" Elizabeth's insides tightened.

"Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried.

She watched as Harry leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; Harry made a sharp about-turn and held the broom steady. A few people were clapping. Elizabeth stayed silent, however annoying he might be, she didn't want Malfoy to get hurt, she would find her own way of getting him back for bullying Neville, a way that wouldn't cause his possible death.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called.

The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy; and for a moment Elizabeth was distracted wondering as to whether one of the brittle school brooms would carry Crabbe or Goyle even if they wanted it to. She was drawn out of that rather humorous image when she once again heard Malfoy's distant voice.

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

As though in slow motion, the ball rose up in the air and then began to fall. She watched as Harry leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down – next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball – there were screams of the other people watching – he stretched out his hand – a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.

"HARRY POTTER!"

Professor McGonagall was running toward them. Harry got to his feet, and Elizabeth could see he was almost 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 his fault, Professor -"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil,"

"But Malfoy -"

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now. The rest of you to your common rooms, this lesson is over"

Elizabeth caught Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle's triumphant faces as she watched Harry enter the castle with McGonagall. The whole situation had left her rather numb, the last thing she wanted was for Harry to be expelled, but she was angry at the same time. He had done it again. She had waited days to get back in the air and finally prove herself, and he had beaten her again. She hadn't even gotten to fly.

After depositing her broom in the broom shed, she headed up to the castle alone, her classmates not far behind her. She could hear their conversations and they all contained one thing. Harry. The Gryffindors were all, either, gushing about Harry's incredible abilities; or in Hermione's case, marvelling at how much of an idiot he had been. The Slytherins on the other hand were creating numerous scenarios of how McGonagall was telling Harry he was expelled. Elizabeth didn't know how to feel, she continued up the stone steps into the entrance hall silently.

She was so confused that she failed to notice a pair of grey eyes on her all the way back to the castle. The boy they belonged to had watched her reactions during their lesson, and had come to one realisation; maybe he wasn't the only person at Hogwarts that felt overshadowed by the great Harry Potter.

"You're joking."

It was dinnertime. Elizabeth had just finished eavesdropping on Harry telling Ron what had happened when he'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. Elizabeth was stabbing violently at her Chicken pie.

"Seeker?" he said. "But first years never – you must be the youngest house player in about…"

"A century," said Harry, shovelling pie into his mouth. "Wood told me."

Elizabeth knew Oliver Wood, he was a friend of the twins and captain for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. She knew that if Oliver was in on this recent development, so were the twins. She was slightly angry they hadn't given her a heads up.

As if they knew she was thinking about them Fred and George Weasley came into the hall, spotted Harry, and hurried over not even sparing her a second look. If the chicken in her pie hadn't already been cooked she wouldn't have needed the fork to send it six feet under, the look she was now giving her plate was murderous. She zoned out from the conversation, listening to Seamus and Dean argue about who was better at Wizard Chess instead, continuing to stab at her dinner.

"What's that poor thing ever done to you?" It was George. She looked up at him, trying to hold back tears; she could never be angry with the twins when they were there. She saw George's face drop as realisation dawned on him. He sat next to her and threw his arms around her. She didn't know why but she always felt safe when he was around.

"I could always aim the odd bludger his direction if it'll make you feel any better." She giggled and extracted herself from his bone-crushing hug.

"Thanks, George." She said a small smile gracing her lips.

"Anytime, Iz" and with that he helped himself to some mashed potatoes and joined in Dean and Seamus' conversation which now revolved on, unsurprisingly, Quidditch.

Elizabeth was distracted from the conversation a moment later when Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, was heading straight towards Harry.

"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 coolly. Elizabeth chuckled to herself, shrugging off some of the strange looks she was sent, there was 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 anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only – no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

Elizabeth watched as Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up. She decided at this point that she was beginning to get slightly tired of Malfoy, and quietly pointed her wand at him under the table, muttering an incantation. George looked at her strangely, she winked back at him and continued with her dinner; listening and waiting.

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

As Malfoy turned to leave, all three made a strange squeaking sound, began flapping their arms as if about to take off and then collapsed, unceremoniously, into a heap on the floor. The hall erupted in laughter, as all three tried to understand, quiet loudly, how all there shoe laces had become tied together and didn't seem to want to come undone. George nudged her and winked. Yes, her mood was certainly improving.

It was only as the Slytherin trio, having finally managed to get to their feet, hopped out of the Great Hall like three over-sized bunnies, amid a gale of laughter; that she caught the expression on Hermione's face. She looked livid. Elizabeth was under the distinct impression that she wouldn't be the only one going on a midnight stroll.

It was almost time and Elizabeth lay awake in bed. A slight rustling caught her attention and she smirked. "Can't believe you're actually going after them."

Hermione stopped, mid-step. "Can't believe you aren't," she replied. Elizabeth smirked, throwing off her covers to reveal a t-shirt, jeans and slippers.

"Who said I'm not," she said. She reached the door before Hermione and headed out; stopping only when she realised there was no movement behind her. Hermione had stopped, mouth agape, staring at her.

"You coming or not?" she asked, then bounded down the stairs two at a time.

5 minutes later and after letting Neville, who had forgotten the password on his way back from the hospital wing, back into the common room; they were now in the corridor. Hermione was yelling at Harry and Ron, stood there wearing her pink dressing gown and a frown. Elizabeth couldn't help but find the image hilarious.

"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." Ron snapped

"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.

Elizabeth had noticed the rather rotund woman take her leave of them not long after allowing Neville back into the common room; but decided not to say anything. She was rather intrigued as to how they would deal with the situation. From the look on Hermione's face she had her answer, not well.

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

"That's your problem," said Ron. "We've got to go, we three are going to be late. I assume you're coming?" he said to Elizabeth.

"Honestly, Ron. I'm offended you even need to ask."

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." All three said simultaneously.

"Do you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me?" That is exactly what Elizabeth had been hoping she would do. "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."

"Oh thank you, Hermione. That's so nice of you. That's exactly what we should do, I'll be sure to get on to that the second I see the old git." Elizabeth replied, sarcastically.

"You've got some nerve -" said Ron loudly.

"Shut up, the lot of you!" said Harry sharply.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

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

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

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

They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn they expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but they were lucky. The other seemed nervous, but all Elizabeth could feel was excitement, she was finally living up to her name as one of the Weasley Triplets. She was so proud. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room.

Malfoy and Crabbe weren't there yet. And immediately, Elizabeth knew. Maybe her revenge would cause his potential death; Malfoy has set them up. 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. Harry took out his wand in case Malfoy leapt in and started at once. The minutes crept by.

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

A noise in the next room made them jump and Elizabeth's suspicions were confirmed.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris.

She couldn't believe it; had she really been fooled by Malfoy? She expected it of Ron, and was beginning to where Harry was concerned. But, had Malfoy really managed to con the con artist? She was appalled.

Harry was now waving madly at them to follow him as quickly as possible; they scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice. Elizabeth'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!" Harry mouthed to the others and, filled with excitement (in Elizabeth's case), they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armour. They could hear Filch getting nearer.

They heard a small meow and Hermione suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run -she tripped, grabbed Ron around the waist, and the pair of them toppled right into a suit of armour.

The cat had not been Mrs. Norris but the clanging and crashing was enough to wake the whole castle.

"RUN!" Harry 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, constantly switching who was 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," Harry panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Hermione was bent double, wheezing and spluttering.

I… told… you," She gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest, "I… told… you."

"This was all your fault!" Elizabeth shouted back, indignantly.

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

"Malfoy tricked you," Hermione said to Harry. "You realize 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."

"Hermione, you really are a bloody genius! Thousand points to Gryffindor!" Elizabeth snapped. She was disappointed in herself for letting Malfoy fool her in the first place, she didn't need Hermione to rub it in.

"Shh! Let's go." Said Harry.

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." Harry whispered.

Peeves cackled.

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

Elizabeth pushed Harry out of the way. "Peeves, it's me. Look we're messing with Filch, my good sir. Do you think you could be swayed into turning a blind eye, just this once? Please, just let us past…quietly."

Peeves rubbed his chin for a moment, seemingly arguing with himself. "Peeves only watches out for Miss Potter, your Wheezy-Pottyshipness, ma'am." Said Peeves, dropping in a slight bow. "Too many Ickle firsties out there beds, Peeves can't resist. Should tell Filch, for firsties own good you know, Miss Potty-Wheezy, Miss!"

"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 toward Peeves' shouts.

"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry's wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, 'Alohomora!"

The lock clicked and the door swung open and 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 with me, Peeves, now where did they go?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong 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. Elizabeth sent an internal thank you to Peeves, which she had no doubt, deep down, he had heard.

"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay...get off, Ron!" For Ron had been tugging on the sleeve of Harry's bathrobe for the last minute. "What?"

They turned around and saw, quite clearly, what. For a moment, Elizabeth couldn't help but admire the beauty of the creature which stood before them; then the fear set in.

They weren't in a room, as they 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 that 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 it was clear that the only reason they weren't already dead was their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

Elizabeth saw Harry grope for the doorknob, between Filch and death, she agreed, they'd take Filch.

They all fell backward. Harry 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 dishevelled states.

"Never mind that, pig snout, pig snout," panted Harry, 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.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" said Ron finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."

Hermione had got both her breath and her bad temper back again. "You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" Harry suggested.

"Yes, Hermione, I was stood in front of a three headed dog. My first instinct was naturally to look at the floor," Elizabeth added.

"No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something."

Guarding something, now Elizabeth was intrigued. She didn't get time to dwell on this however as Hermione stood up, glaring at the boys and dragging Elizabeth with her.

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."

After entering the girls dorm Hermione let go of Elizabeth, who couldn't resist one last snipe. "Honestly, Hermione, you really need to sort out your priorities." Elizabeth did not expect what happened next. Hermione whirled round, nostrils flaring, and eyes full of tears.

"I had my priorities sorted! High school, College, Law School! Then, out of nowhere I find out I'm coming here. Here, where I am basically a baby again, being spoon-fed, learning my ABCs of this world, that everyone told me didn't exist. Magic was always just a figment of my imagination, a dream. You weren't the only person I met that day in Diagon Alley. There were two older boys who overheard our conversation. Do you know what they said? 'Stupid Muggleborn, can't even choose a quill without help. Mind out everyone, future laughing stock of Hogwarts coming though.' So that day I went to Flourish and Blotts and brought every book I could afford. So I would never need anyone's help again. I will not be the laughing stock of Hogwarts!" Elizabeth thought she had finished but what Hermione said next shook her and made her disgusted…at herself.

"Of all the people in the world I thought you would understand what it felt like, to want to prove yourself. I am no more than just a stupid, little muggleborn, than you are just a Potter." Silence.

Elizabeth was ashamed at herself. How had she been around this girl for so long and not noticed she was basically looking, to an extent, in a mirror. She was amazed that Hermione held so much stock in what people thought about her, but even more so at how fast she had managed to build, an almost encyclopaedic, knowledge of their world. That trip to Diagon Alley had been only two months before they started Hogwarts. Hermione really was a genius.

Both girls stared at each other for a moment and Elizabeth did the only thing she could think off. She stuck out her hand. "Elizabeth, nice to meet you."

Hermione stared at it for a moment, and then looked up at the girl before her a small smile creeping back onto her face. "Hermione Granger," she said finally taking her hand. "Pleasure."

A rustling could be heard from one of the beds and a disembodied head poked out from the four poster curtains. "This is all very touching you two, but for Merlin's sake, SHUT UP!"

Lavender Brown had been woken, she violently shut the curtains and disappeared.

Both girls looked at each other and giggled, before heading back to their beds.

Elizabeth dreamt of the three headed dog that night. But this time she wasn't facing it with her brothers and Hermione. She was facing it with her two brothers, and a friend.