Chapter six: Challenged

Whispers followed Dove down every corridor she turned from the time she left the Gryffindor common room. Students lined up and stood on their toes to try and get a glance of her between the tall redhead boy and the Lucius Malfoy's son. She wished they wouldn't. She was having enough trouble finding her classes. When she'd been here before she had only seen the infirmary, two corridors, and Albus' office. Now she faced a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. And all of that seemed to change and rotate around the castle a few times a day. Sir Nicholas was more than happy to point any students the right way. Peeves, however, would point you the furthest away he could. He'd dragged the carpet out from under their feet, emptied waste buckets over their heads, and even lured them to the third floor out of bounds where they were found by Argus Filch and his cat. The four of them automatically took a disliking to each other until Dove and the boys were saved by the Bloody Baron who happened to be passing by.

"What is going on here?" He practically growled, but it reminded Dove of when Severus was putting on his Dungeon Bat persona. She relaxed and kind of smiled. His eyes ghosted over the three students (Oh yeah, I went there. I did that.) with a hard to describe facial expression.

"Move along, Baron," Filch said nastily. "Just our new celebrity thinking she doesn't have to follow the rules."

"No!" Dove said, now talking to the Baron. "Please, we got lost and Peeves told us this was the way. We didn't mean to. I'm sure Professor Snape or McGonagall would be able to sort this out."

"Snape?" the Baron asked, now regarding her with interest. "You do know what his opinion is said to be on those not of his House, do you not?"

"He's her guardian, sir." Draco said cautiously. "Her father."

"Is he really?" the Baron asked again. "And you, I remember your father and grandfather. You're one of mine, aren't you?" Draco nodded and the ghost looked back to Filch. "Then I am sure this is just a misunderstanding. I will speak to Peeves about this and escort the three of you on your way. Good day."

Gob smacked they followed the ghost to somewhere they actually recognized. "Where to?" He asked Dove.

"Charms."

"Go down this hall, turn left at the Argyle painting, go up that flight of stairs, take another left, and it will be on your right just passed the painting of Лебединая принцесса." They looked at him expectantly. "She'll be the blonde girl reading the book, and the classroom is on the right of the small corridor just past that."

"Thank you so very much, sir."

"I take care of my own, and by extension you." And then he was gone.

Classes were amazing, even if they were difficult to start with. Dove had been afraid she would be miles behind everyone else, despite Severus telling her she would be fine. She found she was just on par with everyone else, except Hermione and Draco. Those two were already ahead of everyone and very competitive with each other. Just mentioning her name in front of him got him started on the know-it-all.

They had Astrology every Wednesday at midnight where they were to learn the names of constellations and star patterns under Professor Sinistra's guidance. She seemed nice and was passionate about her subject to the point that Dove thought she sometimes forgot she was teaching a group of eleven year olds as opposed to gushing about it. Professor Sprout, a sweet dumpy woman, taught them about fungi and strange plants. Dove was used to gardening at the Dursley's and she'd helped Severus with his own garden of potion ingredients. History of Magic was dreadful and even Hermione was struggling to take it seriously. Though, Dove would admit it was pretty cool that a ghost was teaching. Professor Flitwick was a good teacher, after the initial squeak he let out seeing Dove's name on the roster. He'd even called her Lily twice. Minerva, as expected, was strict. She started off the first lesson with a lecture, paying close attention to Dove and the boys.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Everyone was really excited and impressed when she turned a desk into a pig, even Dove, Draco, and Ron. They hadn't seen her or Albus use magic yet beyond the Floo. Their enthusiasm waned when they took scrolls of intensive notes before being handed a match to turn into a needle. Only Draco and Hermione made any change of it, both matches turning silvery and pointed. They each received a small smile from Minerva before glaring at each other.

Professor Quirrell was another story all together. His classroom smelled heavily of garlic inspired, others said, by an attack he survived from a vampire he was still afraid would come after him. His turban, he said, was a gift from an African prince as a thank you.

Friday began beautifully with Dove, Draco and Ron each making it down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost. They met outside of the doors with wide grins, congratulating each other, before going in to eat. Hedwig arrived with a letter for her from Remus. He'd been delighted to hear she was in Gryffindor, even going so far as to send Severus a letter of friendly gloat. The Slytherin didn't bother to reply. Their first lesson, only lesson, on Friday was Double Potions. Dove was excited, not having seen much of him since the banquet and never having gone down to the dungeons. It was colder, and his classroom was lined with pickled animals in glass jars much like his lab at home. Severus, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Dove's name- but he said nothing.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word – like Minerva. Severus had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Dove smiled adoringly, thoroughly impressed with his inspiring speech. Hermione sat perched on the edge of her seat, obviously desperate to prove she wasn't a dunderhead. Severus paced as he talked, though really, he paced a lot in general.

"Potter!" He said suddenly, making Dove jump. Zabini and his goons sniggered. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Dove's heart pounded as Severus raised an eyebrow, daring her to answer incorrectly. Hermione's hand had shot up as soon as he had asked the question. She closed her eyes for a moment before answering unsurely. "A s-sleeping p-potion. It's called the Draught of Living Death." He gave a hint of a smile that no one else would recognize as anything other than a grimace.

"And where would you look if I were to tell you to find me a bezoar?" She knew this one.

"In the liver of a goat?" He stopped pacing and looked back at her with a sneer she had to remind herself was just for show.

"Tut, tut." He said. "Obviously, fame isn't everything. Are you able to tell your liver from your stomach? Or are all internal organs just the same to you?"

Her cheeks reddened and she looked down at her parchment. Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle were shaking in laughter. "No, sir."

"And what, pray tell dear Chosen One, is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"There isn't one," she said. "It's also called aconite."

"Aren't you a lucky guesser?" He drawled. "Or perhaps, not so lucky?" He turned to Hermione who was now standing with her wriggling arm reaching toward to ceiling. "Sit down, you silly girl!" He snapped before putting them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Zabini, who he seemed to favor. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Zabini had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's five points from Gryffindor."

Dove could have cried, but instead stayed after class at Severus' behest. He motioned for her to sit down. "I have to be tough on you," he explained to her. "I believe the Dark Lord will come back. Lucius and I told you this, did we not?"

"Yes, sir." She replied despondently.

"He and I have to be on his side when that happens to help this one. And even if one of us is found out then the other has to be there to help Dumbledore and spy. I can't do that if I spend the meantime favoring you or being hard on them. Do you understand?"

"So you didn't mean it?"

"No, you did well even if you forgot one answer. The liver, Dove? Really?"

"At least I remembered what animal it was." She pointed out with a small smile.

"Almost only counts in horseshoes." He said, remembering Lily saying that once.

Dove didn't think she could ever hate anyone more than she hated Uncle Vernon, but that was before she met Blaise Zabini. Draco had told them he grew up with Zabini as his mother and her ex-husband were in business with Lucius. Moira Zabini, currently Moira Fawley, had a string of ex-husbands a mile long and circled followers of the Dark Lord in between marriages. Aunt Cissa didn't think too highly of her. Zabini and Draco had hated each other since they were in diapers. Luckily for Dove, Potions and Transfiguration were the only class she had with him. Unlucky for Draco, he was in the same House with him and even in the same room. Dove felt bad for him, but was still happy to have limited confrontations with him. Until one day when there was a posting for flying lessons, and Gryffindor would be taught alongside the Slytherins. Dove groaned.

"Great, I get to make a fool of myself in front of Zabini." Ron patted her back.

"You'll be fine," he said. "So, you've never flown before. You're still the Girl Who Lived."

"I don't think that makes her feel better," Draco told him. "Plus, he has flown before. He's not bad either."

"Seriously, Draco?" she said.

"I'll help you," he said. "And Uncle Severus could help. He used to be on the Quidditch team. Beater."

Zabini certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained passive aggressively that it was for safety the first years were not allowed to be on the House Quidditch teams, before turning around and stating the safety measures would not be necessary if the flying professor was anywhere worth the position. Draco himself complained to Lucius about not being able to bring his broom to school yet, but he'd never admit to actually agreeing with the other Slytherin about anything. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about flying on his brother Charlie's broom. He used to be the Gryffindor Seeker. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared his dormitory, about soccer. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. Dove had caught Ron prodding Dean's poster of West Ham soccer team, trying to make the players move.

At least Neville Longbottom had never flown before, which made Dove feel better before feeling guilty about feeling better about it. Hermione, who shared Dove's dormitory with Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, and Jeralie Enton, was also nervous and you could tell. On the morning of flying lessons, she bored them all with facts she'd learned about in her books. Neville, and Dove though she'd be hard pressed to admit it, hung on her every word, eager to get any bit of help. With mail came a letter from Remus, who wished her luck on her first flying lesson, and Aunt Cissa who was looking forward to celebrating her first foot in the air. If she even got off the ground, she said to herself. And if she did get up it depended on if she landed in one piece.

A barn owl dropped a small package in front of Neville and he opened it excitedly, showing them a small marble ball filled with white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things - 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." Ron said to state the obvious.

Neville frowned. "Problem is, I don't know what it is I've forgotten."

At three thirty that afternoon, Ron, Dove and the other Gryffindors headed to the Quidditch Pitch where the Slytherins were already waiting. Dove and Ron joined Draco and looked at the neat line of twenty brooms waiting to be used. Fred and George had told them about the issues with school brooms. Some vibrated if you got too high, others pulled to the left.

Madame Hooch arrived, a strict looking woman with short, spiky hair and hawkish yellow eyes. When she arrived Zabini immediately raised his hand and asked if it was true she was dating the Holyhead Harpies' Captain. Her cheeks turned a slight shade of pink and she pursed her lips.

"That, Mr. Zabini, is a Diagon Alley question. Should we meet there you may ask again. Now! Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on. Hurry up. Now, place your right hand over the broom and say 'up'."

Dove's broom jumped to her instantly, along with Draco's and Zabini's. Hermione Granger's simply rolled over and Neville's didn't move at all. Dove let out a breath and her heart swelled that she had done something right. And when Madame Hooch began showing them how to properly mount their brooms, she told Zabini he'd been doing it wrong all these years. His pinched facial expression made Dove's week.

"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 frightened 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. Dove 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," Dove heard the woman tsk under her breath. "Alright, get up." 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."

Neville followed after her with a tear streaked face, clutching his wrist to him. As soon as they left Zabini chuckled disdainfully to his friends. "That poor oaf. I suppose it's not his fault he's so incompetent. Someone must be at the bottom to help boost the rest of us. Sad, really." Other Slytherins joined in.

"Shut up, Zabini," Draco snapped at him.

Zabini stood face to face with him. "Did you have something to say, Malfoy? Have you been hanging around the Gryffindors so long you think you are one? Is that it? Trying to play hero for Potter's sake? Tsk, what would your father say if he saw you sticking up for some idiot?"

"Leave him alone," Dove said lowly.

"Look!" Goyle, who'd been staring into space said suddenly, darting forward to pick something up off the ground. "That stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him." He tossed the Remembrall to Zabini.

"Give that here." Ron demanded hotly.

"Actually, I think I'll leave it for him to find. In a tree, perhaps?"

"Give it here!" Dove yelled, but Zabini had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"

Dove grabbed her broom and went follow, but someone stopped her.

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

She shrugged the girl off and mounted, kicking herself off the ground in a natural grace she didn't know she had. Blood pounded in her ears, air rushed around her and through her hair. There were gasps from below as she leveled with Zabini. Ron and Draco both let out admiring whoops. She couldn't believe this, she was doing this without having been taught. Finally, she felt like maybe she belonged in the Wizarding World after all.

"Hand it over now," Dove said. "Or I'll knock you off your broom."

"And I'm to believe you, Gryffindor's golden girl, would do something so awful?" Zabini mocked. "You're going to have to work on your tactics, Potter."

Dove grabbed her broom and shot toward him like a dart, completely on instinct. Zabini dodged out of the way just in time, looking stunned. A few people clapped.

"If you want it so badly, go get it." Then with a malicious smirk, Zabini threw the glass ball high into the air before racing to get his feet on solid ground.

Dove, feeling as though the world was suddenly in slow motion, leaned forward on her broom- gathering speed and racing for the ball. The ground was rushing toward her and some of the students screamed, Draco and Ron being two of them. Wind whistled in her ears and she reached out, catching the Remembrall a foot from the ground and pulling up sharply before tumbling to the ground.

"DOVE POTTER!"

Dove stood up faster than she had dived after the ball, her heart pounding as Minerva stormed toward her. Dove thought she was going to throw up. She was going to be expelled, Severus was going to be angry and send her back to the Dursley's, and they were going to kill her.

"Never - in all my time at Hogwarts -" Minerva was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "- how dare you - might have broken your neck – when Severus hears-"

"It wasn't her fault- "

"Silence, Ms. Patil. Follow me, Ms. Potter."

Dove caught a gloating smirk on Zabini's face as she walked sullenly behind Minerva. When he saw her looking at him he winked. This was it. She was gone. She wanted to speak up for herself, try to explain, but the words stayed stuck in her throat.

Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still Minerva said nothing to her. She wrenched open doors and marched along corridors with Dove trotting miserably behind her. Maybe she was taking her to Dumbledore. She thought of Hagrid, expelled but allowed to stay on as gamekeeper. Perhaps she could be Hagrid's assistant. Her stomach twisted as she imagined it, watching Ron, Draco and the others becoming wizards, while she stumped around the grounds carrying Hagrid's bag. She wasn't sure what was worse.

Minerva stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside. "Excuse me, Filius. Might I borrow Wood for a moment?"

Dove backed away from Minerva, shaking. She knew she would be expelled, sent back to the Dursley's, but it hadn't occurred to her yet that they might beat her. A burly fifth year came out and Minerva turned back to Dove, her rare smile frozen on her face. "What's wrong, dear?" She must have realized what was going through Dove's mind because she stopped. "Dove, this is Oliver Wood. I'm only introducing you. Wood, I've found you a Seeker."

Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight. "Are you serious, Professor?" he asked in a Scottish accent almost as heavy as Minerva's.

"Absolutely," said Minerva crisply. "The girl's a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?"

Dove nodded silently and confused. She wasn't sure what was going on, but it didn't seem like she was going to be expelled so she was able to starting breathing again.

"She caught it in her hand after a fifty foot drop, without even a scratch! Charlie Weasley couldn't have done that."

Wood appraised her with furrowed brow. "She's built for a Seeker. Light- fast- we get her on a decent broom and let her loose . . ." He trailed off and Minerva grinned at Dove.

"I shall speak to 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. He will just have to sign off for her to play. I'm sure he will."

"Absolutely not!" He said firmly. "There's a reason we don't allow first years to play. She could get hurt."

"You should have seen her, Severus. It was more impressive than James Potter or Regulus Black on their best days." Severus twitched at the name of his enemy and old friend in the same sentence.

"Please, Dad? Oliver says he thinks I would be good. I'd be on a team, I've never been on a team like this before. And I've never seen Quidditch."

"All the more reason for you to wait a year."

"Why are you so afraid?"

Severus rounded on whomever would imply such a ridiculous notion, but stopped at the man leaning against the hearth with a charming half-smirk playing at his lips. "Uncle Remus!"

Remus pushed himself off and stood in front of Severus. "Professor McGonagall, I think maybe Dove should be returned to her friends while we discuss this. They must be worried. A certain Weasley twin I can think of is probably planning a break out as we speak."

"Oof!" A blur of red hair crashed through the doors and landed just behind Dove. He quickly stood up and grinned wildly. "Afternoon, professors." Remus smiled bigger.

"Fred, and-" Draco, Ron, and George peeked in after him. "Children."

When they were gone and it was only Albus, Minerva, Severus and Remus. The latter two stared at each other. "Why are you here, Wolf?"

"McGonagall thought you might need convincing."

"And you are the one she called?" Remus shrugged.

"I know you're scared she'll get hurt, Severus."

"Do not presume to know anything about me, Lupin."

"She will get hurt, it's part of the risk."

"Quidditch is too dangerous a game."

"I mean it's part of the risk of having a child. Of her being eleven, being the Girl Who Lived, take your choice which one. You know, Fred and George Weasley are the Beaters. I remember you being really good at making sure nothing happened to Regulus, and he was just a friend. Do you really think Fred would let anything get near her?"

Severus said nothing, so Remus continued to the punch. "You know, she looks and acts so much like Lily that sometimes it is difficult to remember that she's Dove. She isn't Lily. Dove doesn't like to read everything she can get her hands on, she's cunning, allergic to strawberries, that's not Lily. And she isn't going to leave you. She adores you. All Dove thinks about is making you happy, your approval. If you tell her she can't play, she'll accept that. But, that will just make it harder later. You have to let her do her thing." Remus laid a hand on Severus' nonchalantly, but the Slytherin stared through them.

"I just don't want her hurt."

"I know, but you can't help that. Just help her stand back up afterwards." Severus nodded, feeling manipulated but not really sure if he cared.

"Don't ever do anything like that ever again. You could have fallen, you could have died, you-you could have expelled." Draco whispered the last one and Ron, Dove, and the twins gave him a look.

"Don't you think being dead is worse than expelled?" Ron pointed out.

"Hey," Fred nudged Dove. "Don't listen to him, little bird. That's wicked. George and I are Beaters. It'll be our job to make sure you don't get bloodied up too bad."

"Course accidents do happen, some deaths, disappearances." Fred smacked his twin and gave him a look.

"Having a last meal, Potter?" Zabini asked later at supper. "Might I suggest the roast beast, it happens to be a personal favorite of mine."

"You're a lot more sure of yourself on solid ground with your friends than you were on your broom." Dove observed.

"I would be more than happy to put you in your place on my own anytime."

"And what is it you think my place is?" Dove asked dangerously.

Zabini stood nose to nose with her. "Underneath my boot." He whispered. Ron held Draco back from attacking him. "Tonight, say midnight, in the trophy room. Wizards Duel, wands only, none of that barbaric, Muggle brawling. Just you and me. You, have, heard of Wizard Dueling, haven't you?"

"Of course she has," Ron said as Draco declared himself her second. "Who's yours?"

Zabini lazily looked between his security detail. "Crabbe, I suppose. Not that I'll need him, of course."

"Of course." Dove echoed as he walked away. She turned to the others. "I have no idea what a Wizard's Duel is! What did you mean, my second?"

"Your second takes over for you if you die." Hermione Granger interrupted.

"But death only happens with real wizards. The most you two will be able to do is throw sparks at each other." Draco reassured her.

"What if my wand does nothing?"

"Throw it away and punch the git on the nose," Ron suggested like it was the obvious choice. "He probably wasn't expecting you to accept anyway." Hermione scoffed and Dove looked over at her.

"I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying -"

"Bet you could," Ron muttered.

"-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 none of your business." Dove stated.

Draco was going to meet them outside their common room and the three of them were to go to the trophy room together. Dove was nervous, having already broken a major school rule that day. She spent the time after dinner listening to advice that she was sure was terrible. She lay there listening to the steady breathing of the other four girls. It was very possible they would get caught by Filch and his cat Mrs. Norris, but when she thought of Zabini's face when they showed up to duel she knew she wouldn't be able to resist. At half past eleven it was time to go meet Ron and Draco. She pulled on her satin kimono robe Aunt Cissa had gotten her, black decorated with Japanese blossoms, over her night clothes. Dove grabbed her wand and crossed the room to race down the stairs. Ron was waiting for her, but before they could reach the portrait hole a lamp clicked on. "I can't believe you're actually going to do this, Dove."

It was Hermione Granger, in her fluffy pink robe and a frown, waiting for them.

"Do you just follow us around to try and help us save ourselves?" Dove asked incredulously. "Come on, Ron." She pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the hole.

Hermione wasn't going to give up that easily. She followed Ron through the portrait hole, hissing at them like an angry goose.

"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."

"What's going on here?" Draco asked. Hermione stopped at him and blushed before continuing her rant.

"I can't let you guys do this."

"Then come with us," Draco drawled with a shrug. "Just to be sure we don't get ourselves into too much trouble."

Hermione opened her mouth and shut it again several times before nodding inaudibly. The four rushed down the halls, Hermione a few yards behind and still unsure, but the trophy room was empty. Minutes crept by.

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

"No," Draco contradicted. "He wouldn't. But he would- "

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner." It was Filch. And Mrs. Norris. Draco grabbed Dove and pulled her to the other side of the room.

"He sold us out," he whispered angrily. They heard the door open and Filch enter the trophy room. Draco motioned for everyone to move back and away from the door. Hermione squeaked as she tripped, grabbing hold of Ron and bringing him down with her- toppling over a domino effect of suits of armors. The clatter echoed down the hallway, making the group flinch.

"RUN!" Dove shouted and the four ran down the hallway, not turning to see if Filch was following. Dove was in the lead, with Draco right behind her and the other two behind him. She led them down random, unfamiliar corridors before tumbling through a secret tunnel and landing somewhere near the Charms classroom- miles away from the trophy room.

"Let's go."

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."

Peeves cackled.

"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."

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."

"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's shouts.

"Oh, move over!" Hermione and Draco chorused before Hermione grabbed Dove's wand and motioned to the door with it. "Alohomora."

The lock clicked and the door swung open. The four piled in through it just in time to hear Filch catch up. "Where did they go?"

"Say 'please'."

"I'm not messing around, Peeves, where did they go?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please." Peeves said in a sing song voice.

"Fine, please."

"NOTHING! HAHAHHAAHHAA! I told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please!" They heard Peeves whoosh away and Filch curse in rage.

Dove breathed a heavy sigh of relief and rested her head on the door. "He thinks the door is locked. Let's get out of here- what?" Ron tugged on her arm and she turned around. Her eyes widened to a comical size and she was sure this was just a nightmare.

They weren't in a room, as she 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. Four screams filled the corridor, along with a growl from the thing, and they pushed one another back out of the door, running to the Gryffindor Tower as fast as the three of them could without looking back once until they reached their destination.

"Where have you been?" The Fat Lady demanded indignantly, taking in their heavy breathing and sweaty faces. "And you- you're not in this House!"

"It doesn't matter!" Dove insisted. "Pig snout, pig snout!"

The portrait swung open with a huff and the four collapsed into various armchairs, except Hermione who paced back and forth in front of the fire. "I told you it was a bad idea, I told you!"

Draco turned to Dove. "Does she make you think of- "

"Dad? Definitely. The pacing- "

" -the always being right- " Ron continued.

"Well I was right." Hermione said.

"What are they doing, keeping that thing in a school?" Dove asked.

"You didn't look at its feet." Draco murmured, rubbing his face like Lucius had the habit of doing when he was tired or stressed.

"Of course we weren't looking at its feet, if you didn't notice, it had THREE HEADS!" Hermione shushed Ron.

"Didn't you see what it was standing on?" She asked.

"The floor?" Dove guessed. "To be honest, I was a little preoccupied with its heads."

"Not the floor." Draco told them. "A trapdoor. It's guarding something."

Hermione stood up and glared. "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."

The three of them stared after her before Draco commented, "She needs to sort out her priorities."