"I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry."

I turned on the lamp next to the two armchairs in the common room that Hermione and I had been waiting in. It was about half past eleven, and the rest of the room was shrouded in darkness.

"You!" Ron said furiously. "Go back to bed!"

"I almost told your brother," Hermione snapped. "Percy — he's a Prefect, he'd put a stop to this."

"Harry," I said, as the two of them pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through. "Harry!" I hurried after them, with Hermione close behind. "Harry, listen, I know what my brother's like—"

Hermione, however, was too full of anger to let me finish my sentence.

"Don't you care about Gryffindor; do you only care about yourselves?" she hissed. "I don't want Slytherin to win the House Cup, and you'll lose all the points Dora and I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells!"

"Go away."

"Alright, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so—"

But what Hermione thought they were, I didn't get to find out. The two of us had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside, and had found ourselves faced by an empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit to one of the other paintings, and Hermione and I were locked out of Gryffindor Tower.

"Now what are we going to do?" Hermione asked shrilly.

"That's your problem," Ron said. "We've got to go, we're going to be late."

They started to walk away, but Hermione and I quickly caught them up.

"We're coming with you," I said decisively.

"You are not."

"D'you think the two of us are going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch us?" Hermione said impatiently. "If he finds all four of us, I'll tell him the truth — that Pandora and I were trying to stop you sneaking out — and you can back me up."

Ron opened his mouth to give what was clearly going to be an angry reply, but I gave him a sharp look, held my index finger to my lip, then touched my other index finger to my ear and nodded my head down the corridor a little. I'd heard a sort of snuffling noise, and as soon as the others fell silent, I knew that they'd be able to hear it too.

"Mrs Norris?" Ron whispered, and I gave him another signal to stay silent.

"I'm going to look," I mouthed, accompanying it with actions to make sure they knew what I was saying. "You stay here."

I crept nearer the source of the noise, my footsteps totally silent as I kept to the side of the corridor, where I was less likely to be seen. Years of trying not to be caught by Father as I snuck around the manor had made me very good at that sort of thing.

As I approached the source of the noise, I saw that it wasn't Mrs Norris at all — it was Neville. He was curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as the others crept closer on my signal.

"Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours," he said, sounding relieved. "I couldn't remember the new password to get into the common room."

"Keep your voice down, Neville," I said quietly. "The password's 'pig snout', but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere."

"How's your arm?" Harry asked.

"Fine," Neville said, showing us the arm in question. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute."

"Good — well, look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later—"

"Don't leave me!" Neville said, scrambling to his feet. "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already!"

Ron looked at his watch, then glared furiously at Neville, Hermione, and me.

"If any of you get us caught, I won't rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about and used it on you."

Hermione opened her mouth, probably to tell Ron exactly how to use the Curse of the Bogies, but Harry hissed at her to be quiet, and beckoned us all forwards.

We flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows, making sure to keep to the shadows as much as we could. At every turn, I expected to run into Filch or Mrs Norris, but we were lucky. We sped down a staircase to the third floor, and tiptoed towards the trophy room. Nobody else was there as we entered.

The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them; cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. We edged along the walls, the others keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room, whilst I automatically picked out all the possible hiding places and escape routes. Harry took his wand out. The minutes crept by.

"Harry, I think we should go back," I whispered, my voice barely louder than a breath.

"No!" he whispered back. "Malfoy said to meet him here, I'm not chickening out—"

I frowned slightly. "I know my brother, and I really don't think he was—"

Then a noise in the next room made us jump, and I fell silent at once. Harry had only just raised his wand when I heard someone speak — and, as I'd suspected, it wasn't Draco.

"Sniff around, my sweet; they might be lurking in a corner."

It was Filch speaking to Mrs Norris. I took charge immediately, waving for the other four to follow me as quickly as possible; we scurried silently towards the door, away from Filch's voice. Neville's robes had barely whipped round the corner when Filch and Mrs Norris entered the trophy room.

"They're in here somewhere," I heard him mutter, "probably hiding."

"This way!" Harry mouthed to the rest of us, and, terrified, we began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armour. I could hear Filch getting nearer.

Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run; he tripped, grabbed Ron around the waist, and the pair of them toppled into a suit of armour. The clanging and crashing was enough to wake the whole castle.

"RUN!" Harry yelled.

The five of us sprinted down the gallery, not looking to see whether Filch was following; we swung around the doorpost, and galloped down one corridor, then another, Harry and myself in the lead without any idea of where we were or where we were going. We ripped through a tapestry and found ourselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it, and came out near the Charms classroom, which I knew was miles from the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him," Harry panted, leaning against the wall and wiping his forehead.

Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering. I took a few moments to get my own breath back, and to try to stop my heart beating so fast.

"I — told — you," Hermione gasped, clutching at her chest. "I — told — you."

"You shouldn't have yelled, Harry," I said quietly. "We could've pinned it on Peeves."

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor Tower," Ron said, "quickly as possible."

"Draco tricked you," I said to Harry. "I told you, I know how his mind works — he was never going to meet you. Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room; Draco must've tipped him off."

I could tell by the look on his face that he knew I was right — not that he would admit it, of course.

"Let's go."

***
A/N: tysm for 6k reads!! 😊🖤

Word count: 1298