The next morning, shortly after Harry, Daphne, and Ron got up from the breakfast table in the Great Hall and headed to their respective classes, Draco Malfoy stopped them just as they were about to enter the first floor corridor. He had a particularly smug expression on his face. He was casually twirling his wand in his hand and whistling nonchalantly while waiting for his intended targets.

Draco's venomous words dripped with sarcasm. "Well, if it isn't the mighty hero, Harry Potter, and his faithful sidekick, Weasel-face," he said in his usual bored drawl. He then pointed his wand at Harry's chest. "You and I have some unfinished business from yesterday, Potter. How about you and I meet up tonight, say midnight, upstairs, in the trophy room? How does a little wizard's duel sound?"

Harry firmly pushed Draco's wand hand down. "I don't think so, Draco. I've broken enough rules yesterday – I expect my luck to run out tonight should I accept your challenge."

Draco smirked. "Oh come on, Potter. You're a Gryffindor, are you not? Where's your sense of adventure? Don't you have a thirst to, ahem, put me in my place?" His voice was an unnaturally high lilt to emphasize those last five words.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "You're not worth the effort, Malfoy. Just because you and I aren't friends, doesn't mean that we have to be enemies. I'll leave you be, if you can do the same for me."

Draco simply shrugged. "That's too bad, mate. I was really looking forward to testing my skills against Hogwarts' finest… by the way, congratulations on making seeker for the Gryffindor quidditch team… not that it matters, of course. Gryffindor will remain the laughingstock of the four houses and will finish in its rightful place in the Quidditch Cup standings… at the bottom! Your father will be rolling in his grave seeing how far Gryffindor has fallen, and he was a positively mediocre seeker in his own right!"

Harry's face flushed purple with anger. "How dare you insult my father…"

Draco's face lit up – he got precisely the reaction he was looking for. "So, tonight at midnight? Trophy room?"

Harry nodded. "You're on."

"Crabbe will be my second. I'm assuming Weasley will be yours?" Draco could barely contain his grin.

Harry shrugged, unsure of what that meant. He looked at Ron, who nodded at Harry. "He will," replied Harry.

Draco nodded in satisfaction. "Be there, or be square," he drawled. He snickered to himself as he marched off to class, positively giddy with himself that Pansy's plan was going as well as it was so far.

At lunch, Harry and Ron explained to Daphne that Harry had accepted Draco's challenge to a wizard's duel at midnight in the trophy room.

"You didn't," gasped Daphne.

Harry hung his head in shame. "I tried to turn him down, but the sneaky git insulted my father. I got angry and then accepted."

Daphne shook her head in disappointment. "And you're also a git for falling for his trick. I hate to say it, but he's playing you for a fool. He's trying to get you in trouble because you showed him up yesterday… I highly doubt he'll actually show up himself…"

"I can't take that chance," Harry replied. "You may be right, but I also don't want to be known as a coward for not showing up." He sighed, then looked in Daphne's beautiful light blue eyes. "I'm afraid I don't know the first thing about dueling."

Daphne then sighed herself, before explaining how duels worked in the wizarding world. "Typically, wizard duels are wands only, and contact is not allowed. In other words, you can't beat him up with a club or hack him with a sword or axe."

Ron chortled. "Then there won't be much of a duel then, because we haven't really learned anything, y'know, useful in Defense Against the Dark Arts so far."

Daphne nodded at Ron, before continuing her explanation. "You, Harry, might be at a disadvantage because I'm fairly certain that Draco has had a fair bit of a head start… but I also think he has a bit of a fear of you, which makes me think there probably won't be a duel. But enough of that – there are certain formalities when it comes to dueling, and traditionally duelists bow to each other before the duel begins. It's sort of a way to show respect to the other duelist's powers. Does that make sense so far?"

"I guess so," Harry said softly. "It is a bit to take in, though."

"You're right, it is," agreed Daphne. "And I'm assuming Ronald is your second?"

"He is," confirmed Harry. "Though, I'm not sure what a second does."

Daphne smiled at Harry. "A second is vital to any duel. If a duelist gets sick or injured and cannot physically attend the duel, the second takes his place. Also, a second's duties can include determining what would be satisfactory in ending the duel – they can range from first knockdown to fatality. They are also responsible for informing next-of-kin should the outcome be fatal to one or both participants… but in this case, the seconds would serve strictly as observers, though there might not be much to observe tonight…"

"I see," replied Harry. "I think you're probably right, but I just don't want to be labeled a coward, so I think I had better go anyway."

Daphne frowned at Harry. "You're being a stubborn prat, Harry, but I know I can't convince you otherwise…" She looked at him with her pretty blue eyes. "Please, Harry… be careful. I don't want you to get in trouble over something so stupid like this…"

Harry's face flushed purple with anger again. "What really sucks is that no matter what happens, Draco wins… I either get caught, or I'm a coward. I think the risk of getting caught is the lesser of two evils…"

After class, Harry headed for the quidditch pitch and met up with Oliver Wood just outside the stadium. Oliver was lugging a large chest on the grass – Harry's eyes widened with wonder as to what the chest actually contained.

Oliver smirked at Harry. "Glad you could make it, Potter. So tell me, what do you know about quidditch?"

Harry looked at the ground and shook his head. "It's a game of sorts, and that's about all I know."

Oliver laughed. "That's a start. Now, a quidditch team has seven players. Three chasers, two beaters, a keeper – that's me – and a seeker." He then opened the trunk, and inside it were several balls of various sizes, and a couple of small bats. He then pointed to the largest ball, which was roughly the size of a volleyball. "This, is called the quaffle. It's the chasers' responsibility to put the quaffle through the hoops – each successful goal is worth ten points." He then pointed at the three tall goalposts behind them – they were forty to fifty feet in height, and topped with large hoops.

He then took out of the bats and handed it to Harry. "Take this for a moment," he said as he carefully unstrapped one of the two medium-sized balls. "These are called bludgers. They can knock a player off their broomstick if they're not careful, but that's where our beaters come in. They are armed with bats, who can keep the bludgers away from their teammates." The bludgers must have been enchanted, Harry thought, as they seemed to have minds of their own. Once Oliver finished unstrapping the bludger, it hopped out of the trunk by itself, but Harry took a mighty whack with the bat and sent it flying high into the air.

"Well done, Harry," murmured Oliver. "Maybe you could serve as a beater in a pinch." Harry merely grinned in response.

Oliver then pointed to himself. "As keeper, it's my responsibility to prevent the quaffle from going into the hoops. It's easier said than done, but that's why we have a seeker." He smirked as he produced a small golden ball, about the size of a golf ball. "And this little guy is called, the snitch. As the seeker, your only responsibility is to keep your eyes peeled for the snitch, and catch it. The snitch is worth 150 points… and when you catch it, the game is over… and we win."

He put the ball a few inches in front of Harry's face, and then let go of it. The snitch then sprouted a pair of hummingbird-like wings, and started zig-zagging every which-where; Oliver loaned Harry his broomstick and encouraged him to chase after it. The snitch continued to dart to and fro, with Harry in hot pursuit. He chased it for a good minute or so, before he got within an arm's length of the little golden orb and snatched it – just as he was hurtling back toward the ground. He collided with the ground – his sweatshirt and pants were covered with dirt and grass stains - and chuckled as he held up the snitch to show Oliver.

"Impressive, Harry," Oliver commented. "My goal is to win the Quidditch Cup at least once before I graduate. Merlin willing, Gryffindor will be champions once again…"

That evening, at around eleven thirty, both Harry and Ron climbed out of bed – both in their striped pajamas with their wands in hand – and silently sneaked out of the dormitory and Gryffindor common room and made their way over to the third floor to see if Draco and Crabbe were really going to meet them in the trophy room.

Harry looked at the enchanted grandfather clock in the corner of the trophy room. Eleven forty eight – they still had a few minutes to kill.

The boys stayed as still and as quiet as they could, and five minutes later, they heard the soft tiptoeing of someone approaching the trophy room. The boys turned around and saw a single figure, dressed in a black jumper, skirt, tights, and ballet flats.

"Daphne?!" whispered Harry. "What're you doing here?"

"I came here to warn you two… my suspicions were confirmed. I overheard Pansy and Draco this evening in our common room… Malfoy has no intention of coming, plus Mrs. Norris is prowling the halls, so you'll need to get back to bed as quickly as possible." She giggled very softly. "And nice fashion statement – I see you've came to a non-existent duel, dressed to impress! Oh, before you go - I'd like to show you something really quickly, Harry." She softly whispered lumos, and the tip of her wand glowed faintly. She waved the boys over to a trophy case, and showed them some of the awards Harry's father, James Potter, had won as a former Gryffindor seeker.

"Wow," Harry whispered softly. "Draco was wrong then, my father was a good seeker! I mean, look at all those plaques and trophies! His name's on a lot of them!"

Daphne nodded. "He was very good, Harry. One of the finest, actually. Draco was just being a prat… run!" She was interrupted mid-sentence when she caught the unmistakable glowing red eyes of a certain notorious feline in her peripherals. She knew that wherever Mrs. Norris was, the caretaker, Mister Filch, was not terribly far away. She blindly led the boys out of the trophy room, and down the corridor.

They came across a heavy wooden door that was bolted shut at the end of the hallway. The boys tried in vain to open the handle, but Daphne let out a frustrated groan. "Do I have to do everything for you Gryffindor gits tonight? Ugh! Step aside, amateurs! Alohamora!" She quickly waved her wand and uttered the door-unlocking spell, but the children quickly discovered that they jumped from the frying pan and into the fire.

When they stepped into the chamber behind the door, they were horrified to see a huge three-headed canine, resembling the infamous beast from Greek mythology, the Cerberus. The beast seemed to have been asleep, but it slowly got up, with its three gaping maws drooling. The three children gulped nervously, and one of the heads began to emit a low, menacing growl.

Mrs. Norris led Mister Filch to the hallway that led to the forbidden chamber. He chuckled ominously to himself. "Well, if there are troublemakers in that room… whatever becomes of them won't be my problem, will it, Missus Norris? Heh, heh, heh. Come on, pretty girl. How about a bit of catnip when we get back to my office?" Mrs. Norris meowed in a way that Mister Filch took as an affirmative, and she dutifully followed her owner back to the cramped caretaker office.

Meanwhile, Ron looked out the small peephole in the wooden door. "Mister Filch and Mrs. Norris are leaving," he said nervously. "We'll just need to give them just a bit more time before we can run for it."

At that moment, all three heads started grumbling, and the beast slowly made its way towards the children. To Daphne's relief, she noticed that all three collars were chained to the ground – the chains weren't long enough for it to reach the children, as long as they remained near the door. "Don't move, boys," she hissed. "It can't reach us if we stay close to the door." Her face lit up as she saw something most unexpected – apparently, there was a trap door on the spot where the canine was sleeping before the children inadvertently woke it up. "Harry? Ronald? Look – it's a trap door! I think this creature's guarding something! I wonder what's underneath…"

"I'm not interested in finding out right now, Daphne," panted Harry. "I think we need to get back to our respective dormitories as quickly as possible."

Daphne nodded. "I'm with you, Harry. And I hate to say I-told-you-so… but you've been had," she whispered as they shut the heavy door behind them. They carefully tiptoed their way down the passageway, and before they parted ways, Harry gave Daphne a quick hug.

"I'm glad you came tonight," Harry said softly. "Ron and I would probably be getting yelled at by Professor McGonagall right now if it weren't for you."

Daphne smiled. "What are friends for? I'd rather lose a hundred points myself than let Draco have his way."

Even Ron managed a smirk. "Y'know, Daphne? You're… you're not bad for a Slytherin."

Daphne arched an eyebrow. "Did my ears deceive me, or was that a compliment, Ronald?"

Ron shrugged. "I just said you're all right; it doesn't mean we're friends or anything…"

Daphne flashed a smile at Ron. "You're not so bad yourself, you ginger buffoon." She tousled his hair. "Now go on, get out of here. I'll see you at breakfast, mmkay?"

Harry and Ron returned to the Gryffindor common room without any further ado; Daphne sneaked her way back to the dungeons where the Slytherin dormitories were.

The next morning, the three children met up again at the Gryffindor table for breakfast. This time, Daphne didn't even bother sitting at the Slytherin table first; she went straight to the Gryffindor table to eat. This pleased Harry, and even Ron didn't mind. He wouldn't outwardly admit it, but the girl was slowly growing on him. He didn't consider her a true friend at that point, but at the very least, she was an acquaintance.

"So, what do you think that thing was guarding?" Harry whispered, intentionally keeping his voice low so he would not draw suspicion. "It must be something important."

"Whatever it is, it's got to be valuable… or dangerous… possibly both," mused Daphne.

Ron's face turned pale. "I think we just learned the hard way why Professor Dumbledore doesn't want us anywhere near that place," he said in a soft voice. "I'm just glad it was chained to the floor!"

Harry was sipping on his pumpkin juice when he received a most unexpected surprise from Hedwig… and several school owls. There were perhaps four or five of them carrying a long, slim package and they carefully placed it on the table in front of Harry, Ron and Daphne. The three children carefully unwrapped the packaging, and all three children gasped in jubilance when they discovered its contents – a brand-new Nimbus 2000 broom stick!

"Wow, Harry! I've never even touched one before," Ron exclaimed. "These are top of the line!"

"You're a lucky boy, Harry Potter," beamed Daphne. "Somebody must really like you to get you something this nice. This will serve you well this season, I think."

Professor McGonagall, who had been observing the three children from the faculty table, grinned as she saw her students' faces light up.

"You might want to read up a bit on quidditch, Harry," suggested Daphne. "Tomorrow, during our shared free period, why don't we see if we can find a book or two on quidditch in the library? I don't think sacrificing a few minutes of our designated study time won't kill us…" She glanced over at Ron. "I really think you should join us tomorrow, Ronald. I promise it'll pay off sometime."

Ron rubbed his chin between his thumb and index finger. "Oh, all right," he said reluctantly. "I'll meet you in the library tomorrow during our shared free period."