The letter injected an unfamiliar energy into my usually confident stride. As I envisioned the green and silver tie adorning my neck, the prospect of joining Draco, Rosalind, and Ludovic in Slytherin seemed enticing. The thought of escaping Granger's constant presence was undeniably appealing, perhaps the most enticing part of this entire proposition. Yet, as I carelessly tossed the letter into the blazing torch's flames, a sense of turmoil swirled within me. Gryffindor had become my home, and I had painstakingly built a reputation and legacy within its scarlet and gold walls. The idea of abandoning it left a hollow ache in my chest. Was it truly worth forsaking all that I had achieved to embrace the unknown world of Slytherin? The doubt gnawed at me, casting a shadow over my previous excitement.
I eased the door open, and to my dismay, Hermione Granger stood there, her face a portrait of irritation. Her frown was so intense that I'd have preferred a night spent on the Astronomy Tower. Her posture, hands on her hips, made her resemble an aggravated teacher ready to scold her unruly student—a role she was about to fully embrace. She wasted no time in launching into her customary pestering. "You know," she began, her tone carrying the weight of a disappointed lecturer, "I've already talked to the boys about this, but if you had even an ounce of concern for our House's reputation and the precious House points, you wouldn't be sneaking out in the middle of the night for some senseless duel!" Her words followed me as I made my way to my poster bed, a relentless reminder of her unyielding nature.
"Granger, it's nine-thirty in the evening. Do you have to pester me right now?" I inquired, tossing my robe onto the bed and rummaging through my belongings for my toiletries.
"Yes, yes, I do as you seem not to remember the school rules or the implications that come from you breaking them."
"Well, don't fret, Granger. I'll be untangling myself from your frizzy hair in no time." I smirked, twirling a strand of her hair around my pointed finger provocatively, and then sauntered toward the bathroom, leaving her without a chance to retort. After my refreshing trip to the shared bathroom, I decided to retire to my bed with an entertaining read, my confidence unwavering. Granger had wisely chosen to keep her mouth sealed, likely because the other girls were entering the room. I knew their curiosity would get the better of them, and they'd relish the news of my upcoming duel with Draco, perhaps even suggesting they join our midnight escapade.
"I can't believe you got a place on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. You've got some real talent, Warwick," Lavender said as she walked out of the bathroom, followed by a nodding Parvati and astounded Fay.
"I honestly believed McGonagall was going to place you on the next train to London and kick you out," Fay asked, puzzled as to how I am still sitting in the same room as her.
"Well, ladies, gather 'round, and I'll share a little secret," I whispered, a sly grin playing on my lips as they leaned in, anticipation in their eyes. "All it takes is to be as exceptionally gifted as yours truly, and you can waltz through life getting away with just about anything," I remarked, leaning back from the impromptu circle we'd formed at the foot of our poster beds before slipping under the covers. My declaration earned me a few eye rolls, and a chorus of giggles from Lavender, Parvati, and Fay. Yet, Granger couldn't resist a dramatic, dissatisfied scoff in response.
"Please, gifted," she tutted as she got into bed. Fay gave a small snort while switching off her lamp on her bedside table, which was soon followed by Lavender and Parvati, who wanted to avoid the fresh start of an argument.
"Granger, attempting to become one of the youngest Quidditch players in a century is a bit beyond your reach, isn't it? I mean, you can't even get a broom to rise after saying 'up' two hundred times," I taunted, rolling over to switch off my lamp, casting my side of the room into darkness. Granger, rather than responding to my snarky remark, mimicked my actions by extinguishing her own light.
I couldn't help but push further. "Nothing to say, Granger?"
"Shut up, Warwick," she replied.
Midnight drew nearer, and sleep continued to elude me. In an attempt to occupy my restless mind, I reached for the spell book sitting at the center of the table. I used the soft glow of my wand's light to read without disturbing the others beneath their bedcovers. The book was enthralling, a testament to its brilliant author. It brimmed with detailed notes and straightforward explanations for complex magical spells, making it invaluable for grasping their intricacies.
I eventually peeled back my bedsheet to check my watch; it was half-past eleven. I swiftly retrieved my slippers, wand, and robe, ready to venture downstairs to the common room. Upon entering, I spotted Weasley and Potter by the portrait hole, but the dim lighting still shrouded the armchairs in a haze of shadows.
"Oi, idiots! The-"
"I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry! And I don't expect much from either of you two either," Granger interrupted, flicking on the lamp revealing her laughably hideous pink dressing gown and an annoyed frown. How did I not hear her get out of bed?
"You!" said Ron furiously, pointing his index finger at her. "Go back to bed!"
I began to laugh at this little interaction between the two, which resulted in the two hot heads turning to me with a disapproving scowl.
"I almost told your brother," Hermione snapped. "Percy - he's a Prefect, he'd put a stop to this." Harry and I shared an eye roll at her annoying, intrusive behaviour.
"Come on," Harry said to Ron, taking hold of his arm and pulling him towards the portrait.
"Granger, live a little," I shrugged, following the two boys out of the picture. Like the stubborn fool Granger was, she followed us out the of portrait, hoping to convince us to come back inside.
"Don't any of you care about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourselves, I don't want Slytherin to win House Cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."
"Go away," Ronald snarled, getting fed up with her pestering.
"All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so -" Hermione stood there shocked in front of the painting, her mouth agape realising how much of a mess she is in. The Fat Lady had disappeared some different picture for her own midnight strolls.
"Now what am I going to do?" she asked shrilly.
"I don't know that's your problem," I answered, already starting to walk down the hallway with Weasley and Potter.
"We've got to go, we're going to be late." Hermione soon caught up with us to our disdain, knowing she will be nagging us the whole way.
"I'm coming with you," she said.
"You are not."
"D'you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds all three of us, I'll tell him the truth that I was trying to stop you, and you can back me up."
"Well, she has us there," I stated, kind of impressed.
"You've got some nerve -" Weasley loudly said.
"Shut up, both of you!" said Harry sharply. "I heard something."
The sound of rustling fabric emanated from the shadow.
"Mrs Norris?" breathed Weasley, squinting into the darkness to get a better look. However, it was not the furry beast, but Longbottom pathetically curled up in a ball on the stone floor, fast asleep. He suddenly jerked up from his slumber as we crept nearer to him, giving us a startle.
"Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours. I couldn't remember the new password to get into 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," Weasley demanded, getting increasingly mad each second.
"How's your arm?" Harry asked.
"Fine," said Longbottom, showing us his arm. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute."
"Good - well, look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later -" Harry politely said, stepping over him as I walked around him wanting to quickly get to the Trophy room.
"Don't leave me!" pathetically exclaimed Neville while scrambling to his feet. "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been passed twice already."
"Chicken," I said quietly under my breath, however, I received a sharp elbow to my ribs from Granger. Ron looked down at his watch and glared furiously at Hermione, Longbottom and me.
"If either of you gets us caught, I'll never rest until I've learnt that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about and use it on you."
Hermione opened her mouth, to most likely tell him how to cast the curse, but Harry hissed at her to be quiet and beckoned us all forward.
As we traversed the corridors, our steps, though swift, were delicate, each footfall cautious, lest Filch detect our presence. We darted from corner to corner, seeking refuge behind each one, pausing until Harry, our guide through this clandestine journey, signalled to press forward. Every passing moment was tinged with the anxious fear that Filch might appear at any instant. Hastening our pace, we ascended the stairs, racing toward the third floor where the coveted trophy room awaited our arrival.
Unexpectedly, Malfoy and Crabbe hadn't arrived. The room lay cloaked in darkness, the blinds still drawn, permitting slender fingers of moonlight to caress the trophy cases. Within that obsidian expanse, the trophies, awards, and statues shimmered, their metallic hues winking in the moon's embrace. Opting to hug the room's edges where shadows pooled generously, we remained vigilant, stealing occasional glances toward the two entrances, wary of the imminent arrival of Filch or the prying eyes of Mrs. Norris.
"He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Ronald whispered into the darkness.
"He's never late and never turns down a challenge," I responded, confused as to where he was. A sudden noise came from one of the hallways making Potter raise his wand into a defensive position until a sudden voice came from around the corner - it certainly was not Malfoy.
"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."
Amidst the taut air, a charged silence enveloped us while Filch engaged in conversation with Mrs. Norris. In that tense juncture, Harry's urgent, frantic gestures across the room ignited an immediate call to action. His insistence brooked no delay, compelling us to react instinctively, following his lead toward the doorway, a swift escape from the encroaching sound of Filch's voice. Reacting on sheer reflex, my hand shot out, barely snatching Hermione's arm in the nick of time. She wore an expression of stark horror, her breaths hurried and shallow. With a surge of urgency, I drew her closer, my own pulse racing with the jolt of narrowly evading discovery, all while Filch and Mrs. Norris closed in, heightening the adrenaline-fueled moment.
"They're in here somewhere," I heard him mutter to Mrs Norris as quietly as possible as if not to alert us. "Probably hiding."
I felt Granger's cautious shift as she inadvertently stepped back onto my foot, her hesitant movement causing her long, delicate eyelashes to brush against the back of my hand as she instinctively squeezed her eyes shut. Her mounting fear was palpable in the quickening pace of her breaths, each exhale grazing my skin and leaving small, moist imprints between my fingers. In the charged atmosphere, her unique fragrance—a blend of chestnuts and freshly unfurled pages—suffused the space, intermingling with the tense apprehension that enveloped us.
"Follow me!" Harry mouthed soundlessly, directing our path with a pointed gesture. Swiftly, I released my hand from Granger's mouth and nudged her forward, urging her to take the lead, partly in hopes of alleviating the discomfort in my throbbing toe. Progressing cautiously, we navigated a corridor lined with imposing suits of armour, each of our footfalls reverberating in the hushed, oppressive air. The encroaching sound of Filch's approaching steps quickened the rhythm of my heart to a frantic pace, its thunderous beats seemingly on the brink of betraying our presence, amplifying the fear of an imminent discovery.
Then, unexpectedly, a faint squeak from Longbottom shattered the eerie silence, causing him to recklessly sprint forward without checking what lay ahead. He stumbled over the trailing ends of his robe, unintentionally latching onto Weasley's waist, and together they crashed into a suit of armour. The cacophonous crash and clatter of metal on metal had the potential to rouse the entire castle from its slumber.
Without hesitation, I launched into a full-fledged sprint down the corridor, spurred by Potter's frantic cry of "RUN!" We maneuverer around doorposts, wove through narrow corners, and dashed down winding corridors, our breathless pursuit led by Potter and myself. The moonlight cast the only guiding illumination upon our path. With unwavering determination, we tore through a tattered tapestry, emerging into a concealed passageway that seemed to stretch on endlessly. We had distanced ourselves considerably from the Trophy room, the Charms classroom door now visible in the distance as we continued our headlong flight.
"I think we've lost him," Harry panted, resting on his knees and whipping away the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand.
"Maybe, but I - really don't want to find - out if we haven't." I panted, looking down the corridor to see any sign of a furball.
"I - told - you," Granger gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest. "I - told - you." She looked like she was going to faint as her face was red like a tomato.
"We've got to get back to Gryffindor Tower," said Ron, "quickly as possible."
"Malfoy tricked you two," Hermione stated to Harry and me. "You two realise that, don't you? He was never going to meet you - Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must of tipped him off."
Harry and I continued to think about it. Knowing Malfoy, he probably did this to get back at me for the Rememball, or he would have told me. "Let's go," Harry announced, beginning to walk down the corridor.
However, as always, it was not that simple. The sound of the rattling of a doorknob filled the hallway, and something came shooting out of the classroom. It was Peeves of all people — just our luck. He began to squeal when his sight fell upon us.
"Shut up, Peeves - please - you'll get us thrown out."
Peeves began to cackle, "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," Harry said, begging almost.
"Should tell Filch, I should," he saintly said, but he still had a wicked glint in his eye and a devilish smirk which put me on edge. "It's for your own good, you know."
"Get out of the way," Weasley snapped, mistakenly taking an enormous swipe towards the poltergeist as his anger took over him.
"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed. "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"
Ducking under Peeves, I began sprinting again down the corridor, trying to run as swiftly as my legs could go. I soon felt a hard, stable surface slam into my face. I backed away, clutching my nose, to see what I slammed into.
"This is it!" Weasley blurted, pushing aimlessly at the door. "We're done for!"
Hermione pushed past us all, pulling her wand from Potter's hand and whispering a soft charm toward the lock. The sound of the door unlocking was music to my ears, pushing to be the first into the door before anyone else as I could hear Filch's footsteps get closer. After the last of us piled in, I pressed my ear against the door to listen to any other footsteps coming from Filch.
"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch asked. "Quick, tell me."
"Say 'please'," Peeves began to tease.
"Don't mess me about, Peeves, now where did they go?" Filch demanded, lowering his voice to sound more intimidating - it clearly was not working.
"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.
"All right - please," Filch said, clearly embarrassed.
"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" And I heard Peeves whoosh away down the corridor and Filch cursing in rage.
"He thinks the door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be OK - get off Neville!" he commanded, shaking Neville's clutch from his robe sleeve.
I couldn't help but notice that Granger, too, had a firm grip on my robe sleeve, her hand trembling with unease. An uncomfortable tension hung between us as I cautiously removed her hand, and her face flushed slightly with realization, understanding whose sleeve she had been clutching.
"What?"
I turned around to see what Potter was looking at, and my heart stopped. Sitting in the dim room's far corner was a monstrous dog, staring right at us. Surprisingly, it had three heads. Drool was dripping from all three heads as it continued to growl and snap at us, revealing its yellowish fangs. I was glued to the floor in fear, I couldn't keep my eyes away from the beast if it pounced on us. I began to back towards the door, trying to feel for an escape before I got chewed upon like a toy.
The minute I saw Potter open the door, I sprinted yet again down the corridor and did not stop till I saw the portrait of the Fat Lady and her familiar fruit crown.
"Where on earth have you all been?" she questioned while observing our red, sweaty faces and messy robes which were hanging off our shoulders.
"Never mind that - pig snout, pig snout," panted Harry, and without another comment, the painting swung forward. We all scrambled into the common room, almost falling onto each other.
After sitting in some armchairs for a while, trying to recollect ourselves from the hellish night we had, someone spoke finally. "What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" said the Weasley boy. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."
Hermione suddenly stood up, brushing her robe after recollecting her breath and irritated mood.
"You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" I shrugged in response, still trying to get a hold of myself after the amount of running I have done, getting annoyed really quickly with her unwanted attitude.
"Didn't you see what it was standing on?"
"The floor?" Harry suggested.
I scoffed, "Of course it's not that, you dense buffoon."
He glared at me, "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads."
"It was standing on a trap door," both Granger and I answered, glaring at each other after realising we said it at the same time.
"Its obviously guarding something," Granger said quickly before I could answer. I stood up from my armchair, "I'm going to bed, this is absolutely ridiculous, and I'm shattered. A word of advice, don't go snooping around where your nose doesn't belong. Dumbledore will cut it off." I left to the spiral stairs, going to the shared dorm.
I collapsed on my bed after discarding my slippers and robe, falling asleep almost immediately, which was a surprise after seeing a three-headed dog. I had studying to do tomorrow and a silver-headed boy to hunt down tomorrow.