—•—
THE NEXT WEEK started relatively quickly, for the weekends were full of doing homework and barely any real time to do anything else, other than play Wizards Chess with Ron.
Although one day, the Gryffindors saw a new piece of paper pinned on the noticeboard in the common room, and much to their dismay, it was Flying Class with the Slytherins on Thursday.
"Typical," grumbled Harry sadly, "just what I always wanted; to make a fool out of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy."
Archer had been smiling, considering he'd learned to fly ages ago, but it faded at Harry's sadness, considering Archer hated Malfoy nearly as much as Harry did— maybe more.
"I don't think you'll make a fool of yourself, Harry." Archer said honestly.
"And we know Malfoy's always talking about how good at Quidditch he is, but he's all bark and no bite." Ron added with an air of confidence.
Malfoy did talk about Quidditch a lot, and it drove Archer insane. Ron sometimes bragged about how he'd learned to fly, but it was nothing compared to Malfoy. Seamus also enlightened everyone with his flying stories, and it only seemed to make Harry feel worse.
"What about you, Archer?" Seamus asked, turning to the quiet boy beside him. "Your brother is good on a broom, it has to run in the family."
"I guess," Archer shrugged. "I learned to fly a while ago, but I don't know how good I am-"
"He's so modest, isn't he, Fred?" a passing George called out. Fred nodded enthusiastically.
"Archer's great!" Fred said to all the first years. Malfoy, who was nearby, frowned and turned a deep red. "Beats us nearly every time..."
"Calm down, Fred, that's a lie." Archer replied, turning red himself.
Neville had never been a broom before, as he had informed them. His grandmother wouldn't even let him within ten feet of one.
Hermione Granger, seeing as she was a Muggleborn, was also pretty terrible on a broom, and she couldn't figure out how to do anything with it. How to fly a broom was nowhere in her books.
Thursday morning, an owl dropped a package into Neville's lap. Neville opened it anxiously to reveal a small, glass ball with billowing white smoke on the inside.
"It's a Remembrall!" He explained cheerfully. "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 turned a bright shade of scarlet, "...you've forgotten something..."
He couldn't figure out what he'd forgotten, because Malfoy had snatched the Remembrall from Neville's grasp and looked at it. Archer jumped to his feet, Ron and Harry following suit.
Archer would use any excuse he could to fight Malfoy. Just looking at his pale, pointed face was enough to set Archer off, and he was about to say something when Professor McGonagall hurried over to where the boys were.
"What's going on?" she demanded, narrowing her eyes at the boys.
"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, professor." Neville answered timidly. Malfoy looked thoroughly disappointed as he dropped the Remembrall back onto the table.
"Just looking." He said quietly before walking off with Crabbe and Goyle not far behind.
The Gryffindors were somewhat excited as they made their way down to a flat field that afternoon. It was pretty warm out, perfect weather for Quidditch. Archer wanted so badly to make the team, but he couldn't until his second year, which was a rule he'd been dreading since he'd first heard of it.
The Slytherins were already there, lined up near twenty brooms, all looking rather threatening.
Madam Hooch, who looked oddly like an owl with grey hair that stuck up in spikes and yellow eyes, barked at all the students as soon as they were ready, "Well, what are you waiting for? Everyone to a broomstick, let's go, hurry up."
Everyone stood beside a broom, and Archer's wasn't in bad shape compared to some of the others. Ron's was chipped in a lot of places and reminded Archer of the redhead's wand.
"Stick your right hand out above the wand," Hooch instructed, "and say 'Up!'"
"UP!" Everyone shouted at once. It took two tries for Archer's broom to jump into his hand, while Harry's worked immediately. Ron held his hand out, only for the broom to shoot up and hit him in the face. Harry and Archer laughed at him.
"Shut up!" he groaned, still holding his nose tenderly. They all turned when they heard Neville attempting to call him broom, which didn't move.
Ron, Harry, and Archer grinned at each other as they heard Hooch criticize how Malfoy was trying to pick up his broom, saying he'd been doing it all wrong forever.
"Now," Madam Hooch announced, "when I blow my whistle, you have to kick off from the ground hard to make sure you really get up. Rise up a few feet, then come back down. Three, two o-"
Neville, who was overcome with nerves, kicked off the ground before she told them to. He rose up in the air, ten feet, then eleven...
"Come back, boy!" Hooch called out. And that Neville did. Neville saw how high up he was and fell sideways off the broom, and with a loud crack, he was on the ground, facedown in the grass.
Archer cringed at the loud cracking noise, and wondered what Neville could've possibly broken.
Madam Hooch was very pale as she leaned beside Neville, examining him.
"Broken wrist," she clicked her tongue. "Come on, get up..."
Madam Hooch helped Neville, whose face was stained with tears, up and turned to face 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."
Madam Hooch and Neville limped away, Neville sobbing silently as they did so. The millisecond they were out of earshot, Malfoy burst out in laughter.
"Did you see his face?" He snickered, making the other Slytherins agree with a roar of laughter.
"Shut up, Malfoy." Archer snapped, making Parvati Patil huff in approval.
"Look! It's that stupid ball Longbottom's grandmother gave to him!"
Malfoy held up the Remembrall, which glinted in the bright sunlight of that September day.
"Give that here, Malfoy." Harry instructed firmly.
Malfoy smirked. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find. How about in... a tree!"
"Give. It. Here!" Harry yelled, trying to reach out for the Remembrall, but Malfoy had already taken off up into the air. He was at the same level as the branches of a tall tree, grinning teasingly down at Harry.
Harry grabbed his broom, ready to take off, when Hermione Granger stopped him.
"No!" she exclaimed, infuriated. "Madam Hooch told us not to move! You'll get us all into trouble."
This didn't seem to bother Harry, for he kicked off into the air, leaving everyone else on the ground, gasping in shock. Harry was a really good flier, like he'd been taught in private by a professional.
"Go on, Harry!" Archer yelled up confidently, cupping his hands around his mouth. Hermione hit him on the arm angrily.
"Give it here!" Harry ordered again, this time more confident. "Or I'll knock you off your broom!"
"Oh yeah?" Malfoy sneered, although Archer saw the color flood his face.
"He's such an idiot." Hermione huffed, crossing her arms disapprovingly.
"Who, Malfoy or Harry?" Archer turned to face the bushy-haired girl.
Hermione didn't respond as Malfoy raced back to the ground, smirking. Archer's eyes shot towards Harry, who was soaring across the grounds as the small Remembrall fell further and further towards the ground.
Harry caught it just before it hit the ground, and he tumbled onto the grass softly, clutching the Remembrall tightly in his palm, grinning. The grin faded in record time.
"HARRY POTTER!" An old, frail voice shrieked. Archer whipped around to see McGonagall racing towards him. Fury was written all over her face, and Archer was sure she'd expel him right then and there.
"Never... never in all my time at Hogwarts..."
She stopped dead right before Harry, who was trembling as he stood up. "How dare you? You might've broken your neck-!"
"It wasn't his fault, professor-!"
"Enough, Miss Patil."
"But, Professor McGonagall, Malfoy-"
"That's quite enough, Mr. Griffin." McGonagall glared in his direction before sweeping off the field, Harry not far behind. Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle with smirks drawn on their smug faces.
"Don't worry, Malfoy, I'm sure you'll be packing your bags just as soon." Archer narrowed his eyes. Malfoy flushed, but tried to keep his composure.
"You wish."
The class ended not long after, the Slytherins and Gryffindors refusing to talk to each other. Archer, who had to be held back by Parvati and Ron, nearly smacked Malfoy across the face on various occasions.
"Maybe Harry is fine." Ron said, although he sounded as if he was trying to assure himself of that rather than Archer.
The two boys went to dinner, their hearts falling as they realized Harry wasn't at the Gryffindor table. Archer sat down, hoping that maybe he'd just been upstairs doing homework or something.
"He's coming." Ron kept repeating. Archer nodded along each time. The two ate some food, but not much, as their hunger was diminished just thinking about Harry being expelled.
Then somebody sat down across from the two boys, and they both nearly shouted with excitement as they saw it was Harry, looking positively shocked.
"I'm on the Quidditch team— Seeker."
"You're joking." Ron said, his mouth agape, just as his steak was about to reach it.
"Seeker?" Archer repeated, also in shock as to how Harry could go from being expelled to being on the Quidditch team. "But you'd have to be the youngest in..."
"A century." Harry finished, nodding slowly. "Wood told me." Both Ron and Archer remained dead silent, completely shocked by Harry's revelation. "I start training next week, only you can't tell anyone because it's supposed to be a secret." Marty and the twins sat down next to them at that exact moment, all looking cheerful.
"We've just heard." Marty said proudly, patting Harry on the back.
"Well done. We're on the team too, as Beaters." George said.
"Chaser." Marty smiled broadly.
"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch Cup for sure this year," said Fred. "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."
George coughed. "Anyway, we ought to go. Lee Jordan found a new passageway out of the school. See you." The twins hurried out of the Great Hall, where Archer saw Lee Jordan waiting.
"I should stop them," said Marty, before taking a dinner roll off a plate and biting into it. "I don't think I will."
"Can we sneak off, too?" asked Ron, his face brightening significantly at the idea of finding secret passageways.
"No. I'm actually supposed to be responsible for first years." Marty stood up, shrugging. "I'll be in the library if any of you need me." He walked off, leaving the three Gryffindor boys to themselves.
"Having a last meal before you get on the train back to the Muggles, Potter?" a sly voice sneered from behind, and Archer didn't even need to turn around to know it was Malfoy.
"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," grumbled Harry, and Archer knew it was true. If Malfoy was caught dead alone, he'd be a real coward.
"I'd take you on my own anytime." Malfoy replied coolly. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only. No contact." Harry let his brows furrow closer together. "What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"
"'Course he has." Archer stood up. "Ron will be his second, and I'm his third. And you?"
"Crabbe's my second and Goyle's my third." Malfoy, who looked astonished by Harry knowing anything about a wizard's duel (he didn't), turned to look at his goons, who looked paled, but nodded stupidly. "We'll meet in the Trophy Room, that's always unlocked. Midnight tonight."
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle walked off to eat at the Slytherin table, and as soon as they were gone, Harry turned to look at Ron and Archer.
"What's a wizard's duel and why are you my second and third?" he asked obliviously.
Archer and Ron glanced at each other nervously. If Harry didn't know what a wizard's duel was, then how would he win it? But they decided to stay motivational.
"A second's to take over if you die," Ron explained. "A third is there to take over if the second dies. 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."
"What if I wave my wand and nothing happens?"
"Throw it away and punch him in the face." Archer suggested with a shrug.
"Excuse me." They looked up to see Hermione Granger. Archer rolled his eyes.
"Can't a person eat in this place?" muttered Ron, who always thought about eating.
"I couldn't help but overhear what you and Malfoy were saying-"
"I bet you could." Archer mumbled, rolling his eyes at the girl.
"-and you mustn't go out 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." Harry replied once she had finished her speech.
"Goodbye!" Ron added.
Later that evening, once the day had ended and everyone went to bed, Archer stared at the ceiling with a bit of worry. What if Malfoy didn't show up? What if they were caught? Harry had almost gotten expelled earlier in the day, and this would surely get all three of them kicked out without a second doubt.
Ron also seemed nervous, for he had only gotten seconds at dinner and then stopped eating. But they all wanted to watch Malfoy mortify himself, so that outweighed the possible consequences.
"Half-past eleven." Ron whispered, making the other two boys sit up. "We'd better go."
Harry and Ron put on their bathrobes while Archer remained in the clothes he'd been wearing all day. The boys took their wands, crept down the spiral staircase, and found themselves back in the common room.
The fireplace was dimmed now, its sparks being the only remains, and the most Archer could see of the armchairs were their shadow.
"I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry." someone said from one of the chairs in the common room. It was Hermione Granger, who'd just turned on the light and frowned.
"Go back to bed!" Archer scolded.
"I almost told your brother, you know that?" she looked at Archer, then at Ron. "Both of them. Percy and Marty, they're Prefects, they'd put a stop to this."
Archer groaned in frustration. How could one person be so annoying?
"Come on." Ron said to the boys, and they climbed through the portrait hole, expecting Hermione to leave it there. She didn't. She followed them through, complaining the entire way.
"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!" Archer hissed.
"Alright, well I warned you, so just remember what I said when you're on the train-"
She turned to go back inside, but the Fat Lady was gone for the night. She was locked out of the common room.
"Now what am I going to do?" she cried.
"That's your problem." Archer snapped. "Let's go."
They reached the end of the corridor when Hermione caught up with them again. "I'm coming with you."
"No."
"Do 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."
"You are really-" Archer began, but Harry hushed him.
"Shut up, both of you! I just heard something!" He whispered. It sounded like a really quiet cry. Hermione cowered about two feet behind Archer.
"Mrs. Norris?" Ron hissed. It wasn't Mrs. Norris. It was Neville. He was sleeping, but awoke as soon as they got close enough.
"Oh, thank goodness you guys found me!" He whispered. "I've been out here for hours, I forgot the password to get in."
"The password is 'Pig snout' but that can't help you now." Ron replied. "The Fat Lady went off somewhere."
"How's your arm?" Harry asked, his eyes taking over the scared boy before them.
"Fine." Neville responded. "Madam Pomfrey fixed it in a minute."
"Good. Well, we really ought to go. Neville but-"
"No!" Neville whimpered. "Don't leave me, the Bloody Baron's already been past twice!"
Archer sighed but glowered at both Neville and Hermione. "If either of you get us caught I swear... I'll learn how to petrify you and leave you in the dungeons."
Hermione opened her mouth to say something, maybe how to do the spell, but, luckily for her, she didn't say anything and instead followed them.
They crept past the Great Hall, which was illuminated only by strips of moonlight that had made their way through the windows. No sign of Filch or Mrs. Norris.
They made their way up to the third floor and into the Trophy Room, which was silent and abandoned. Malfoy wasn't there yet.
The trophy cases glinted in the sunlight, and Archer took a look at one from Ravenclaw's Quidditch Cup, when his father played. Sure enough, his name was on there. He was the Seeker. Artemis had told Archer about it only thirty times.
The minutes passed slowly, but yet no sign of Malfoy nor Crabbe or Goyle.
"Brilliance is what'll keep you alive," Hermione kept saying in a matter-of-fact tone. "Not whatever you're doing now."
"I bet I could stay alive longer than you," grumbled Archer bitterly.
"I take that as a challenge." Hermione replied simply.
"We'll see."
"Maybe he chickened out." Ron suggested. He wanted to say something else, but there was a noise and it certainly wasn't Malfoy.
"Look around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."
Archer froze with fear as he realized it was Filch. They all backed into a corner silently. Filch entered the room, and Archer could see him in between a space of two sets of armor.
Harry waved madly at him, and Archer turned around to follow him through a valley of more armor. Filch was getting nearer and nearer, which set Neville off. He tried to run, but tripped into Ron and they both fell into a suit of armor. Surely they'd woken the entire castle with that noise.
"RUN!" Harry yelled, and nobody had to think twice. They ran down the galley and through multiple hallways. They somehow found themselves in a hidden passageway, and when they got out, they were near the Charms classroom, which was very far from the Trophy Room, giving them a break.
"I think we lost him," Archer panted, leaning his head against the wall behind him.
"I... told... you!" Hermione shrieked, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "I told you!"
"We have to get back to Gryffindor tower." Ron urged. "As fast as possible."
"Malfoy tricked you guys." Hermione said through her hard breathing. "He tricked you, you realize that? He was never coming. He tipped Filch off about you guys being in the Trophy Room."
Harry ignored her and they started down the hallways again, which wasn't as easy as it seemed, because a door shot open and something came out. It was Peeves. His eyes glinted with malice as he saw the first years. He giggled.
"Shut up, Peeves, please, you're going to get us kicked out!" Harry pleaded. Peeves cackled this time.
"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."
"Not if you don't tell." Harry replied.
"I should tell Filch, I should." Peeves said innocently. "It's for your own good!"
"Get out of the way," Ron muttered. Archer felt like screaming at him as he tried to hit the ghost, who immediately grinned.
"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed as loudly as he could, instilling alarm in all the students. "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"
They ducked under the ghost, sprinting down the hallway at full speed. They ran straight into a door, Ron clutching and twisting the knob like his life depended on it— it probably did.
"Oh, it's locked!" he moaned, his face paling. "We're done for!"
"Are you stupid?" Archer snapped, waving his hands around wildly.
"Oh move over." Hermione snarled, pulling out her wand and pointing it at the door. "Alohomora." As they all got inside, Archer heard Filch's footsteps getting nearer. They stopped somewhere near the door.
"Where are they, Peeves?" Filch demanded. "Quick, tell me."
"Say please."
"Don't mess with me Peeves, where did they go?"
"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please!" Peeves teased, cackling all the while.
"Alright, please!"
"NOTHING! Ha, ha! I told you I'd say nothing if you said please! Ha, ha!"
Peeves was gone, and Filch cursed loudly as he stormed down the hallway, leaving the original five students alone in the closet.
"He thinks this door is locked." Harry whispered quietly. "We'll be okay if- Neville, get off."
Archer tried to listen outside the door by putting his ear to it, but all he heard was Harry scolding Neville, who was right next to Archer. Archer turned around to tell Harry that it wasn't Neville on him, but he froze. Surely he had fallen asleep before the fight, and got transported right into a nightmare.
Archer knew he was on the third floor, and he knew that the third floor was forbidden to students. It was then that he figured out why; they weren't in a small room, they were in a corridor. And inside the corridor was the reason that the third floor was forbidden.
It was a huge, three headed dog with slobber dripping from his mouth. Its eyes were bloodshot, and it had mangy, black fur. It started to growl at them, ready to attack. Archer glanced down at its paws to see that it was standing on a trapdoor, but he didn't have much time to process it, for Archer leaned back just as Harry opened the door and he fell onto the marble floors. Harry slammed the door shut and the first years ran down the hallway.
Hermione had waited for him, and she was standing in the middle of the corridor, hand outstretched. Archer took it and they bolted down the corridor with the rest of the group. They didn't stop running until they all reached the seventh floor, and in turn, the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"Where have you been?" she scolded coldly.
"Never mind that!" Ron hissed. "Pig snout, pig snout!"
She let them in, and they climbed into the armchairs, shaking. Archer couldn't believe what had just happened. The dog was standing on a trapdoor, which meant something was under it.
"What are they doing, keeping something like that in a school?" Ron snapped. "If any dog needs exercise, that's the one."
"You don't use your eyes, do you?" Hermione hissed. "Did you see what it was standing on?"
"No, we were too occupied with its heads, we didn't look at the floor." Harry replied sarcastically.
"Not the floor. It was standing on-"
"A trapdoor, yeah I saw it." Archer interjected.
Hermione looked upset that he had interrupted her.
"It's guarding something." She explained, but then stood up.
"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."
She left the four other boys alone in the common room as she mumbled something about responsibility her entire way up the stairs.
"We don't mind." Ron muttered.
"By the way she says that it sounds like we dragged her along, doesn't it?" Archer bristled, although he thought about what Hermione said right before he fell back asleep. What had the dog (or dogs, for that matter) been guarding?
jack
finally posted i don't even know why i didn't LMAO