DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER OR DRACULA!

LADY OF THE NIGHT:

CHAPTER FOUR:

I let out a loud grunt as Midnight lept onto my bed, knocking the breath out of me. "Honestly, Midnight, you seriously need to find a better way to wake me up in the morning." She simply let out an amused purr, and I glared at her. "See if I give you any sweets this week." I stumbled out of bed, groaning as I changed into non-wrinkled clothes, combed my hair, and made my way out of the common room sleepily as I headed for the Great Hall.

I had begun to cram some sausages into my mouth when I heard one of the twins call my name. I looked up blearily as Lee and the twins came over. "You look terrible."

"Thanks." We checked our schedules. "Let's see. I've got...History of Magic, Transfiguration, then Defense Against the Dark Arts." I yawned. "Well, at least I'll get some sleep in History of Magic." The others laughed.

The week dragged on, and I kept getting lost. A couple of times, I showed up late for History of Magic, but Professor Binns didn't even notice. That Friday, I checked my schedule again and groaned. "Great. Double Potions." I sighed and made my way down to Potions, dragging my feet. I finally showed up at class with five minutes to spare, and sat down in a seat next to Hermione.

The professor, Snape, started taking roll call, and paused at Harry's name. "Harry Potter. Our new celebrity." I heard some of the Slytherins laughing quietly at this, and I rolled my eyes as Snape continued. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little wand-waving in this class, many of you will hardy believe this is magic. I doubt you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through the human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death-that is, if you aren't as big a bunch of idiots as I usually have to teach." Hermione fidgeted in her seat, eyes wide.

"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Hermione's hand flew into the air while Harry simply looked confused. "I don't know, sir." Snape smirked. "Fame clearly isn't everything. Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming here, Potter?" Snape continued smirking. "Tell me, Potter, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" Hermione stood up, her hand waving frantically in the air. "I don't know, sir. I think Hermione does, so why don't you try her instead?" Snape's eyes narrowed to slits. "Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat, and will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by aconite. Well? Why aren't you all writing this down?"

Instantly, the scratching of quills could be heard throughout the room. "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor for your insolence, Potter."

We had just begun our potion when clouds of green smoke and a loud hissing filled the room. Neville had managed to melt Seamus' cauldron into a blob, and their potion was seeping across the floor. Within moments, most of us were standing on our chairs, while Neville, who'd been drenched in the potion, had boils covering his face. "Take him up to the hospital wing." As Seamus led Neville out, Snape rounded on Harry. "Potter, why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought you'd look good if he got it wrong? That's another point from Gryffindor."

That afternoon, I was scanning the Daily Prophet while Fred, George and Lee were eating. "Hey, listen to this:

Gringotts break-in latest:

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.

"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokes-goblin this afternoon."

I set down the paper, frowning. "That's weird. Why would someone break into an empty vault?"
Lee shrugged. "Maybe they didn't know it was empty."

The next week, flying lessons were coming up. Most of the first-years were looking forward to it, myself among them. Quite a few others were talking non-stop about their exploits on a broom. For example, Ron, Fred and George's younger brother, talked about the time he nearly hit a hang glider on his brother Charlie's old broom.

Neville the Nervous Boy, however, seemed terrified of the idea of his feet leaving the ground, mainly because he'd never been on a broom before, and for good reason, because he was clumsy enough as is. Hermione also seemed nervous, and tried to learn how to fly from a book, and bored most of us to tears by trying to give us tips on how to fly from said book. Neville seemed to be the only one listening to her.

A few days later, a small box from Neville's grandmother arrived for him. He opened it to reveal a Remembrall. "Gran knows I forget things, and this tells you if you've forgotten something. See, you hold it tight, and if it turns red-" His face became troubled when the Remembrall turned red, "-you've forgotten something."

He scratched his head, trying to recall what he'd forgotten, when Malfoy came over and snatched the Remembrall out of his grasp. Just as Harry and Ron, the twins' younger brother, got up to fight, McGonagall swept over. "What's going on here?"

"Malfoy has my Remembrall, Professor." Malfoy quickly set the Remembrall back down on the table, scowling. "Just looking." He stalked off with Crabbe and Goyle.

That afternoon, the other first-year Gryffindors and I ran outside for our first flying lesson. The Slytherins had already arrived, unfortunately, and about twenty broomsticks or so were lined up on the lawn. "What are you all waiting for? Everybody stand by a broomstick. Hurry up! Stick your right hand up over your broom and say UP!"

We all shouted the word "UP", and my broom sprang into my hand (as did Harry's), whereas Hermione and Neville's brooms remained on the ground. We then mounted our brooms, and Madam Hooch turned to us. "When I blow my whistle, kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, then come back down. On my whistle-three...two..one..."

But Neville, terrified, kicked off before she blew her whistle, and took off twenty feet into the air. "Come back down here!" Neville looked down, his face turned white, and he fell off his broom, landing with a sickening thud. We ran over to him, and Madam Hooch knelt down beside him. "Looks like a broken wrist. Come on, up you get." She turned to us. "Not one of you is to leave the ground while I escort Longbottom to the hospital wing. If I come back and see a single broom in the air, I will see to it that the person riding will be expelled before they can say 'Quidditch'. Come along, boy." With that, she led Neville off.

As soon as they had left the range of earshot, Malfoy burst into hysterical laughter. "Did you see his face, the great lump?" The other Slytherins began laughing as well. A girl I hardly knew growled at him. "Shut your face, Malfoy."

"Sticking up for Longbottom? Never thought you'd be interested in fat crybabies, Parvati." Malfoy ran forward, picking something up off the grass. "Look at this! It's that stupid thing Neville's grandmother sent him!" Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Give that here, Malfoy." Malfoy smirked at him. "I don't think so. How about I leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find-up a tree, perhaps?"

"Give it here!" Malfoy lept onto his broom and took off, smiling smugly down at Harry. "Come and get it, Potter!" Just as Harry was about to take off, Hermione grabbed his arm. "No! Harry, you'll get all of us into trouble! You heard Madam Hooch!" He ignored her and kicked off. We watched from the ground as he appeared to have a short argument with Malfoy, who then threw the Remembrall into the air, and Harry chased after it. He was nearly a foot from the ground when he pulled up, clutching the Remembrall in his fist.

"HARRY POTTER!" We whirled around to see Professor McGonagall storming towards us, her eyes blazing. "Never-in all my time at Hogwarts-how dare you-could've broken your neck-"

"Professor, it wasn't his fault-"

"Silence, Miss Lestrade-"

"But, Malfoy-"

"Enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, come with me." The other Gryffindors and I watched sadly as Harry was led away, the feeling that this was going to be his last day at Hogwarts sinking in our stomachs.

"I don't believe it!" Ron and I gaped at Harry that evening at dinner after he had told us what had happened. "You're a Seeker?! But first years never-You must be the youngest house player in-" Harry nodded at Ron's disbelief. "-a century. Wood told me." He looked up at the two of us. "I start training next week. Don't tell anyone, though. Wood wants to keep it a secret."

Fred and George spotted Harry and walked over. "Well done. Wood told us." George said quietly. "We're on the team-Beaters." Fred nodded. "We're going to win that Quidditch Cup for sure this year. 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 reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school."

"Bet it's the one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy we found our first week. See you." They left just as Malfoy and his two thugs showed up. "Having your last meal, Potter? When are you catching the train back to the Muggles?"

"You're a lot braver now that you're on the ground with your little friends." I snorted in a rather unladylike fashion into my pumpkin juice, and Ron pounded me on the back a couple of times.

Malfoy crossed his arms, scowling. "I'd take you on, anytime on my own. Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only-no contact." He smirked. "What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before?" Ron glared at Malfoy. "Of course he has. I'm his second, who's yours?" Malfoy glanced at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up. "Crabbe. Is midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room, that's always unlocked."

Once he had left, Harry looked over at Ron, confused. "What's a wizard's duel? And what do you mean, you're my second?"

"Well-" Ron took a bite out of his sausages, "-a second is there case you die." I nodded. "People only die in proper duels, though. The most you and Malfoy'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. I'll bet he thought you'd refuse, anyway."

"And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?" Ron shrugged. "Throw it away and punch him in the nose."

"Excuse me." We looked up, and groaned to see Hermione Granger looking over at us. "I couldn't help overhearing, and you really mustn't go wandering around the school at night. Think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're definitely going to be. It's really very selfish of you."

"And it's none of your business."

"Goodbye."

That night, I met Harry and Ron in the common room at half-past eleven, and we were almost at the portrait hole when a lamp flicked on, revealing Hermione. "You! Get back to bed!" She stood up, stalking over to us. "I almost told your brother-Percy-he'd put a stop to this."

I rolled my eyes. "Honestly, Granger, could you be any more interfering?"

Harry sighed. "Let's go." Hermione followed us out, hissing under her breath at us the entire time. "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-"

"Get lost."

"Fine, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, so-" She turned around to be faced with an empty portrait. Apparently, the Fat Lady had decided to go on a midnight visit, and Hermione was locked out. "Now what?!" Ron shrugged. "That's your problem. See you later."

A few minutes later, she had caught up with us. "I'm going with you."

"You are not." She glared at me. "Do you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds us, I'll tell him the truth, that I was trying to stop you, and you can back me up."

"You've got some nerve-"

"Shut up, you three! I heard something." We looked closer, expecting to see Mrs. Norris, but spotted Neville instead. "Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours! I couldn't remember the password." Harry shushed him, "Keep your voice down, Neville. The password's 'Pig snout', but it won't help, the Fat Lady's off somewhere."

"How's your arm?"

"Fine." He showed it to us. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute." Ron nodded, "Great-well, look, Neville, we've got to go, we'll see you later-"

"Don't leave me! I don't want to stay here! The Bloody Baron's been by twice already." Ron checked his watch, then glared at Neville and Hermione. "If either of you get us caught, I won't rest until I learn the Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about, then I'll use it on you." Hermione opened her mouth, about to tell him, when Harry told her to be quiet, and led us all forward.

We rushed into the trophy room, glancing around for Malfoy. "He's late. Maybe he chickened out." Then we heard something that made our blood run cold. "Sniff around, my sweet. They may be hiding." It was Filch with Mrs. Norris.

Harry signaled for us to follow him, when Neville suddenly tripped, upsetting a suit of armor. "RUN!" We sped down the corridor, shoving our way through a wooden door. "I think we lost him."

Hermione gasped for breath, glaring at us. "I-told-you. I told you. Malfoy tricked you. You know that, don't you? He was never going to meet you. Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room. Malfoy must've tipped him off."

"Let's go." At the moment, Peeves came shooting into the classroom and spotted us. "Shut up, Peeves-please-you'll get us thrown out." Peeves simply laughed. "Wandering around at night, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."

"Should tell, Filch, I should. It's for your own good, you know." Ron glared at him. "Get out of the way."

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

We sped down the corridor, running right into a locked door. We could hear Filch coming, and Ron groaned. "This is it! We're done for! It's the end!" Hermione pushed him out of the way. "Alohamora!" The door swung open, and we rushed through it, closing it behind us as we listened to Filch and Peeves talking on the other side of the door.

"Which way did they go, Peeves? Tell me, quick."

"Say 'please'."

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?!"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please."

"Fine...please."

"...NOTHING!" Peeves burst into laughter. "Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please!"

Harry let out a sigh of relief. "He thinks this door's locked. We'll probably be okay-Get off, Neville!" Neville was tugging on Harry's robes. "What?!" We turned around to see a large three-headed dog. Immediately, we scrambled for the doorknob, and we ran out, forgetting about being caught, forgetting about Filch. We didn't stop until we reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who had returned to her portrait.

"Where have you all been?"

"Never mind-pig snout, pig snout." We flopped down on some chairs in the Common Room, breathing hard. Finally, Ron spoke, his voice shaking. "What are they thinking, locking a thing like that up in a school?!" Hermione gasped for air, then glared at all of us. "Don't any of you use your eyes?! Didn't you see what it was standing on?!"

Harry sighed. "The floor? I was too busy looking at its heads."

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