Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom! Butch Hartman does!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, seeing as I'm not wealthier than the Queen of England!
Harry and Danny agreed that before Hogwarts, they'd never thought that they would meet someone they hated more than Dudley or Dash, but that was before they'd met Draco Malfoy. Thankfully, first year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so they didn't have to put up with Malfoy much. Or at least, they didn't until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common-room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday-and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.
"Typical," Harry groaned. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy." Although he'd had a lot of fun flying with Danny, he was really looking forward to learning how to fly on his own. Besides, he and Danny hadn't gone out for a fly since they'd arrived at Hogwarts, since there was too big of a chance that someone would see them.
"You won't make a fool of yourself," Danny reasoned. "Anyway, I know how much Malfoy's been blathering about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."
Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories which always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one, though; the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang-glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared their dormitory, about soccer. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. Harry had caught him poking Dean's poster of the West Ham soccer team, trying to make the players mover.
Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Personally, Danny felt that she'd had good reason, since Neville had more accidents than even him, and that was with both feet on the ground.
Danny wasn't too worried about flying. After all, he had superpowers, so why should he care about some stupid broomstick? He could fly on his own. Of course, he still had to do reasonably well without his powers because he wasn't about to blow his secret identity just yet. But that didn't mean he was going to give himself an ulcer worrying about the upcoming lesson.
Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book-not that she hadn't tried. Honestly, she appeared to Danny to have a striking resemblance to Jazz when she appeared at breakfast on Thursday with a library book called Quidditch through the Ages, and bored them all by reading them stupid flying tips. Neville was hanging onto every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang onto his broomstick later, but everyone else was more than happy when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the mail.
Harry hadn't received a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of candy from home, which he gloatingly opened at the Slytherin table.
A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.
"It's a remembrall!" he exclaimed. "Gran knows I tend to forget things sometimes-" Ron snorted, but covered it with a cough-"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 no…" his face fell, because the white smoke suddenly turned a glowing red. "It means you've forgotten something."
"You forgot to do your DADA homework," Danny suddenly said. Everyone looked up at him, surprised. The red glow of the remembrall was reflected in his irises, and he appeared to be in some sort of a trance. He closed his eyes and gave his head a slight shake, and when he re-opened them they were once again electric blue. Before any of them could ask what had happened, Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the remembrall out of Neville's hand.
Harry, Danny, and Ron all jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.
"What's going on?" She asked in a suspicious voice that implied that she already knew exactly what was going on.
"Malfoy has my remembrall, Professor." Malfoy dropped the remembrall back on the table with a scowl.
"Just looking," he said, and then stalked away with Crabbe and Goyle following him.
At 3:30 that afternoon, Harry, Danny, Ron, and the other Gryffindors headed down the front steps and into 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 towards a smooth lawn on the opposite side of the grounds from the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly with the soft breeze in the distance.
The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Ron relayed Fred and George Weasley's complaints that the school brooms tended to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.
It wasn't long before their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair and yellow eyes, like a hawk. She strode over to the twin rows of broomsticks and stood at the front, right in-between the two rows.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up!" Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles. He looked over and saw that Danny's was no better.
"Stick out your right hand over your broom," Madam Hooch called, "and say 'up!'"
"UP!" Everyone shouted.
Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but his and Malfoy's were the only two that did. Danny's and Ron's did on the second try. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over a bit on the ground and Neville's hadn't moved at all.
Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end. After that, she walked down the rows and looked at each one of them individually, and corrected their grips. The Gryffindors were delighted when she told Malfoy that he'd been doing it wrong for years.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly. On my whistle-three…two…" But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had even touched Madame Hooch's lips.
"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville couldn't have descended even if he'd wanted to. He shot straight up, and was soon at twelve feet…twenty feet…. Danny's first thought was to run off, go ghost somewhere private, and save Neville, but before he could even drop his broom Neville slipped sideways off his broom and…
WHAM
A thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick continued to rise higher and higher, and started to drift lazily towards the forbidden forest and out of sight. Madame Hooch rushed over to Neville and bent over his prone form.
"Broken wrist," she muttered. "Come on, boy, it's all right, up you get, that's it," She 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." Madame hooch placed her arm around Neville and led him off. No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.
"Did you see the expression on his fat face when he landed on his fat ass?" The other Slytherins joined in.
"Shut up, Malfoy," Parvati Patil snapped.
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl, sneered. "Never thought you'd like fat little cry babies, Parvati."
"Look," Malfoy said. He darted forward and snatched 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 it here, Malfoy," Harry said quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch, and Danny took advantage of the distraction to sneak off. Malfoy smiled nastily.
"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to collect. How about…up a tree?"
"Give it here," Harry yelled, but Malfoy had already leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying; he could fly well. He hovered level with the topmost branches of an oak tree and called, "Come and get it, Potter!" Harry grabbed his broom.
"No, you can't!" Hermione Granger shouted. "Madam Hooch told us not to move! You'll get us all into trouble!" But Harry ignored her as he mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared, air rushing though his hair and robes whipping out behind him. He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron.
Harry turned his broomstick to face Malfoy in mid-air. Malfoy looked stunned.
"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off your broom!"
"Oh yeah?" Malfoy replied. He tried to sneer but ended up looking worried. Harry leaned forward and graspted the broom tightly in both hands. It shot towards Malfoy like a javelin, and Malfoy only just got out of the way in time. Harry turned the broom around to face Malfoy again and held the broom steady. Danny, who was hovering intangibly and invisibly next to Harry, nodded appreciatively.
"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called.
The same thought seemed to have stuck Malfoy. He turned his broom to descend, defeated, when suddenly he was met with a disembodied pair of piercing green eyes. Spooked, he reflexively clamped his eyes shut and threw the remembrall right between the green eyes. Malfoy opened his eyes once more and looked around wildly for the apparition, but it had vanished.
Danny quickly made his eyes invisible once more as the remembrall phased through him. He turned around to get a glimpse of the ball when suddenly he jumped as Harry flew right through him. Danny watched as Harry leaned forward and pointed his broom handle-down. A second later he was gathering speed in a steep dive and racing the ball. He stretched out his hand and caught the ball just a foot above the ground. He had just enough time to pull his broom straight and topple gently on the grass with the remembrall clutched safely in his fist. The rest of the Gryffindors ran up to Harry, cheering. Danny quickly descended and transformed back to human in a deserted courtyard near the field where they had been flying, and ran over to congratulate his friend for the amazing save.
"HARRY POTTER!"
Professor McGonagall was running towards them. Harry got to his feet, trembling, and faced her. Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, her glasses flashing furiously. "Never, in all my time at Hogwarts…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."
Harry caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle's triumphant smirks as he left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall's wake as she strode towards the castle. He was going to be expelled, for sure. Professor McGongagall was sweeping along without even looking at him; he had to jog to keep up. Great. He hadn't even lasted two weeks, and now he'd be packing his bags in ten minutes. What would the Dursleys say when he turned up on their doorstep?
Professor McGonagall led him up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, still without saying a word to him. She wrenched open doors and marched along corridors with Harry trotting miserably behind her. Finally, she stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside.
"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?" A couple seconds later, a burly fifth year boy exited the classroom, looking confused. "Follow me, you two," Professor McGonagall said, and they marched up the hallway and entered a classroom, one that was empty except for Peeves. The Poltergeist was writing rude words on the blackboard.
"Out, Peeves!" McGonagall barked. Peeves threw the chalk into the trash bin, which clanged loudly, and swooped out cursing. Professor McGonagall slammed the door behind him and turned to face the two boys.
"Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood-I've found you a Seeker." Wood's facial expression immediately changed from confusion to delight.
"Are you serious, Professor?"
"Absolutely," Professor McGonagall replied, as a small grin appeared on her severe features. "The boy's a natural, I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?"
Harry nodded silently.
"He caught that thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive," Professor McGonagall told Wood as she gestured towards the remembrall, which Harry was still clutching. "Didn't even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."
Wood was looking as though all his dreams had come true at once.
"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?" he asked excitedly.
"Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team," Professor McGonagall explained.
"He's just the build for a Seeker, too," said Wood, who was now walking around Harry and sizing him up. "Light…speedy…we'll have to get him a decent broom, Professor. A Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say."
"I shall speak with Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape in the face for weeks…" Professor McGonagall peered sternly over her glasses at Harry. "I want to hear you're training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind about punishing you." She then smiled again. "Your father would have been proud. He was an excellent Quidditch player himself."
"No way!"
It was dinner. Harry was just telling Ron and Danny 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 seemed to have forgotten all about it. Same with Danny and his hamburger.
"Seeker? But first years never…you must be the youngest house player in about…" Ron began.
"…a century," Harry finished, and took a third helping of pie. He felt particularly hungry after the excitement of the afternoon. "Wood told me. I start training next week, just don't tell anyone. Wood wants to keep it a secret."
Fred and George Weasley came into the hall, spotted Harry, and hurried over.
"Well done," George said in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too-Beaters."
"I tell you, we're going to win the Quidditch cup for sure this year," Fred said. "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is going to be amazing. You must be good, Harry, Wood was almost skipping when he told us."
"Anyway, we've got to go, Lee Jordan thinks 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."
Fred and George had gone for maybe five seconds when Malfoy turned up, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.
"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," Harry replied coolly. Obviously, there was nothing whatsoever that could be considered little about Crabbe and Goyle, but seeing 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 any time on my own," Malfoy said. "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," Danny said.
"Then I suppose you're his second, then?" Malfoy asked.
"Uh…sure. Who's yours?" Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle and sized them up.
"Crabbe," he finally said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked." Once Malfoy had gone, Danny and Harry both turned to Ron.
"What's a wizard's duel?" Harry asked.
"What's a second?" Danny asked.
"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," Ron said casually as he began his own pie, then caught the look of Harry's face. "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."
"And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?"
"Leave that to me," Danny said. He turned so that Ron couldn't see and made his eyes flash green for a second. Harry understood and grinned.
"Excuse me." The three of them looked up at the speaker. It turned out to be Hermione Granger.
"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" Ron said. Hermione ignored him and spoke to Harry.
"I couldn't help buy hearing 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," Danny replied.
"Goodbye," Ron said, and the three boys stood up and left the Great Hall.
As the three of them sat in the common room, Ron tried to give them some tips on dueling ('If he tries to curse you, you'd better dodge it, because I can't remember how to block them.'). Finally, Danny just said that Ron should come with them instead of trying to get them to remember so many things.
"Half-past eleven," Ron eventually muttered. "We'd better go." The three boys picked up their wands and crept across the tower room, down the spiral staircase, and into the Gryffindor common-room. A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows. They had almost reached the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them.
"I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry." A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione Granger.
"You!" Ron whispered furiously. "Go back to bed!"
"I almost told your brother, Percy. He's a prefect, he'd put a stoop to this." None of them could believe that anyone could be so interfering.
"Come on," Harry said as he pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady. He, Danny, and Ron climbed through the hole. Hermione wasn't going to give up that easily, though. She followed Ron through the portrait hole, hissing at them like an angry cat.
"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."
"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 never found out. Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty canvas. The Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor tower.
"Now what am I supposed to do?" she asked shrilly.
"That's your problem," Ron said.
"We've got to go, we're going to be late," Danny added, and the three of them continued walking. They hadn't even reached the end of the hallway when she caught up with them.
"I'm coming with you," she stated.
"You are not."
"D'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 thruth, that I was trying to stop you and you can back me up."
"You've got some nerve-" Ron said loudly.
"Shut up, both of you!" Harry whispered loudly. "I heard something." It was a sort of shuffling.
"Mrs. Norris?" Ron breathed as he squinted through the dark. It turned out not to be Mrs. Norris, but Neville. He was curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked awake as they crept nearer.
"Thank goodness you've found me! I've been out here for hours; I couldn't remember the new password to get in to bed."
"Keep your voice down, Neville. The password's 'Pig Snout' but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere."
"How's your arm?" Harry asked.
"Fine," Neville replied, as he showed it to them. "Madame Pomfrey fixed it in about a minute."
"Good. Well look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later-"
"Don't leave me!" Neville said, scrambling to his feet. "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already."
Ron looked at his watch and then glared at Hermione and Neville.
"If either of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of Ecto-Acne Masters told us about and used it on you."
Hermione opened her mouth, quite possibly to tell Ron exactly how to use the Curse of Ecto-Acne, but Harry shushed her and beckoned them all forward.
They flitted along hallways striped with bars of moonlight from the high widows. At every turn Harry expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but they were lucky. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed towards the trophy room.
Malfoy and Crabbe weren't there yet. 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.
"He's late," Ron said.
"Maybe he's chickened out," Danny added.
Then, a noise in the next room made them all jump. Harry had only just raised his wand when they heard someone speak. Someone that definitely wasn't Malfoy.
"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner." It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horrorstruck, Harry gesticulated wildly to the other four to follow him as quickly as possible; they scurried silently towards the door away from Filch's voice. Neville's robes had barely whipped around the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room.
"They're in here somewhere," he muttered. "probably hiding."
"This way!" Harry mouthed to the others, and they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. They could hear Filch getting closer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run…
…and tripped, grabbed Ron around the waist, and brought both of them toppling right into a suit of armor. The clanging and crashing was enough to wake the whole castle.
"RUN!" Harry yelled, and the five 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, Harry in the lead without any idea where they were or where they were going. They ripped though a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew to be miles away from the trophy room.
"I think we've lost him," Harry panted. Danny and Neville were bent over, wheezing and gasping for air.
"I-told-you," Hermione gasped as she clutched a stitch in her side. "I-told-you."
"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower," Ron said, "as quickly as possible."
"You do realize that Malfoy was tricking you, right?" Hermione asked Harry. "He was never going to meet you. Filch knew someone was in the trophy room; Malfoy must have tipped him off." Although she was probably right, Harry wasn't about to tell her that.
"Let's go. We'll just quietly sneak back to Gryffindor Tower; it'll be easy."
They hadn't gone a dozen paces when Peeves came shooting out of the classroom in front of them. He saw them and squealed excitedly.
"It's never easy, is it?" Danny asked, sarcasm dripping from his mouth.
"Wandering around at midnight, ickle firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."
"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."
"I should tell Filch, I should," Peeves said in a saintly voice that was undermined by his wickedly glittering eyes. "It's for your own good, you know." Danny felt a surge of anger just like he had when they'd first encountered Peeves, right after the Opening Feast. His right hand sparked with energy again, but instead of dying down, it grew into green ecto-energy that surrounded his hand. Since they were distracted by Peeves and he was standing behind everyone else, none of the other Gryffindors saw the energy. Danny looked Peeves in the eye and held his hand up threateningly. That was his mistake.
"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, and Danny immediately winced. "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"
They ducked under Peeves and started running. As Danny was the last one, he turned around and held his hand out. A green beam of energy shot out and hit Peeves in the stomach. Danny smirked and powered the energy down, and followed the others.
The five Gryffindors ran for their lives, right down to the end of the hall 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!" Danny would have tried going intangible, but he didn't think he was strong enough to phase himself and four other people though a door. Besides, that would blow his secret identity sky-high.
They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could towards Peeve's 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. 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 me about, Peeves, now where did they go?"
"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," Peeves said in his annoying sing-song voice.
"All right-please."
"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaa!" and they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.
"He thinks the door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be OK…get off, Neville!" Neville continued to tug on the sleeve of Harry's robes. "What?"
Harry turned around and saw, quite clearly, what. For a second he thought he'd walked into a nightmare. This was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far. They weren't in a room, as they had supposed. They were in a corridor.
"The forbidden third-floor corridor," Ron said hoarsely.
"And now we know why it's forbidden," Harry added.
They were looking into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between the ceiling and the 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 perfectly still, all six eyes staring at them, and everyone present knew that the only reason why they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that. There was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.
"I always wanted a puppy," Danny commented.
Seven heads, four human and three canine, turned to face him with raised eyebrows for a second, and then the five Gryffindors fell backwards though the door and slammed it shut. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else because they didn't see him anywhere, not that he 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'd reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.
"Where have you all been?" She asked, looking at their nightgowns hanging off their shoulders and their flushed, sweaty faces.
"Never mind that, pig snout, pig snout," Harry panted, 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. Neville looked as though he'd never speak again.
"So when I was five, I really wanted a puppy, but my parents, they-" Danny began, but was cut off by Ron.
"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" Ron finally asked. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."
Hermione had got both her breath and her bad temper back.
"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. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was a bit preoccupied with its heads."
"No, not the floor. IT was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something." She stood up, glaring at them.
"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."
"No, we don't mind," Ron said. "You'd think we dragged her along, wouldn't you?"
"I know," Danny added. "She really needs to sort out her priorities."
But the three of them were thinking deeply as they climbed into bed. That dog was guarding something…it's like Hagrid had said-Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to hide, except perhaps Hogwarts.
Looks like they'd found out where the grubby little package from vault 713 was.
Next chapter, Ron and Hermione find out that Danny's a halfa! Yay, exposure! (cough). But yeah, as always, I'll update as soon as I can, but no guarantees.