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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐃𝐮𝐞𝐥

I had never believed I would meet a boy I hated more than Dudley, but that was before I met Draco Malfoy. 

Still, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so we didn't have to put up with Malfoy much. Or at least, we didn't until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made them all groan. 

Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday — and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

"Typical," said Harry darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy." 

He had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else. 

"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Ron reasonably. "Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is quidditch, but I bet that's all talk." 

"And, Harry, how do you know you'll make a fool out of yourself?" I asked, giving him a look. 

"Sometimes, Diane, I think you were my older sister or something," Harry sighed. "Why're you so older sister-like? I mean, I know I'll do a horrible job — No buts!" Harry said as I opened my mouth. 

"But how do you know you'll make a fool out of yourself?" I repeated. 

"Says the one who's talking," I could hear Ron mutter.  

I blushed. 

Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared their dormitory, about soccer. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. Harry had caught Ron prodding Dean's poster of the West Ham soccer team, trying to make the players move, so he had told me all about it.

The Fawleys had all flew a little before too. They'd tell anyone who listens about the time they almost killed their family cat by almost hitting it by their brooms when they were flying.

"It was all Lily's fault," repeated Cassie. 

"Um, no, it was yours, since you were leading," argued Lily, pointing at Leslie. 

"Me?  Look at Belle, who has never flown before!" Leslie said, pointing at Belle. 

"It's Cass's fault!" repeated Belle. 

The Fawleys now started bickering, which I didn't try breaking up because I knew they'd never break up. 

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, I felt she'd had good the reason because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground. 

Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book — not that she hadn't tried. 

At breakfast on Thursday, she bored some of us all stupid - again, some, not me of course - with flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Through the Ages. Neville and I were hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help us hang on to our broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

Harry hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table. 

Today was my lucky day since Atkins came back with a piece of parchment stuck to his foot. Atkins started nibbling on a few bread crumbs while I read the note. 

Diane, 

Professor  Brown was quite irritated that you were not going to his academy. We tried explaining that you were a bit sick and we are sending you to one of the local schools. 

Professor Brown said that you were really bright, and deserved a spot at this academy. 

Vernon and Petunia Dursley 

I took a quill from Hermione and wrote back, Well, I am happy here, on the back of the note and put it back on Atkins' leg, and then Atkins flew off. 

"Who was the letter —" Harry started. 

"Mum and Dad." 

"How did they get access to the Wizarding World?" Ron asked. 

I shrugged. "Dunno." 

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of 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...."

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand. 

Harry and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any the teacher in the school, was there in a flash. 

"What's going on?"

 "Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor." 

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table. 

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

I shot both Ron and Harry a look as they both sat down, a bit gloomy. 

"Come off it!" I said. "You cannot always just get Malfoy into trouble!" 

At three-thirty that afternoon, I, Harry, Ron, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for our first flying lesson.

 It was clear, a breezy day and the grass rippled under our feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance. 

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. 

I had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left. 

Our teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk. 

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up." 

I glanced down at my broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles. 

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"

 "UP" everyone shouted.

Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Mine turned over and came to my hand, but fell and when I said, "UP!" again, it refused to come up. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, I thought; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount our brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. 

Harry and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years. 

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Adam 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. 

I 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 facedown 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," I heard her mutter. "Come on, boy — it's all right, up you get." 

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, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter. 

"Did you see his face, the great lump?" 

The other Slytherins joined in. 

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati." 

"Yeah?" Leslie said loudly. "Who knew you'd become so pug-faced over the summer, Parkinson?" 

Lily grabbed her hand. I could hear Cassie hiss, "Shut up," to Leslie. Belle shook her head slightly. 

"Ooh," the Slytherins all cooed. 

"What're you going to do?" Leslie asked as we all saw Pansy's face harden. "Kill me with your ickle wand? Lemme see you try, Parkinson." 

"NO, STOP IT!" I yelled as Pansy took out her wand. 

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up. 

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. 

Everyone stopped talking to watch. 

Malfoy smiled nastily."I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find — how about —up a tree?"

 "Give it here!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leaped 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!" 

Harry grabbed his broom. 

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

"No! Harry, Hermione's right, don't do it, Harry! Harry, don't!" I yelled. 

Harry ignored Hermione and me.  He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared. He pulled his broomstick up a little to make it even higher. Several girls screamed and gasps and Ron whooped. 

He turned his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked stunned.

 "Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!" 

Harry knew, somehow, what to do. He leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; Harry made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady.

 A few people were clapping. 

Lily, Cassie, and Belle were trying to help break up the fight between Pansy and Leslie. 

"Parkinson!" I yelled as Pansy made a step toward Leslie, screaming a curse word at Leslie. "Parkinson, leave Leslie, right now!" 

"Or what'll you do, Dursley?" Pansy taunted. "Tell on me?" 

"That's exactly what I'll do," I said as I helped Leslie calm down a little. Leslie even had a small smirk on her face now. 

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called. 

I turned to see Harry and Malfoy again.

"Potter!" Hermione yelled. "Get down! Please, you'll get us all into trouble!" 

"Why?" Ron asked scathingly to Hermione. "What's your problem!" 

"Ron, now you shut up! HARRY! Harry, please please get down!" I yelled. 

"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.

He leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down — next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball — he stretched out his hand — a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.

"HARRY POTTER!" 

My heart sank faster than the dive Harry just did. Professor McGonagall was running toward us. He got to his feet, trembling.

 "Never — in all my time at Hogwarts —" 

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "— how dare you — might have broken your neck —" 

"It wasn't his fault, Professor —"

 "Be quiet, Miss Patil —"

 "But Malfoy —"

 "That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."

I caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle's triumphant faces as he left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall's wake. She turned abruptly. 

"None of you will move until —"  

"Minerva! What happened?" a voice asked. Madam Hooch hurried up to us, a blank expression on her face. 

"Mr.Potter —" Professor McGonagall started, but she seemed too mad even to talk about it. Madam Hooch seemed to understand for she nodded. Professor McGonagall strode toward the castle. Harry had given me just a glance before he had left. 

"Told you," I said quietly to Ron. 

"Now all of you!" Madam Hooch yelled. "Next class, go on!" 

I raised my hand. 

"Yes, Miss Dursley?" Madam Hooch asked. 

"Madam Hooch, just curious, but you  could you answer this scenario?" I asked.

"Yes, Miss Dursley, go on." 

"If a person taunted a person who couldn't fly and took his Remembrall and was about to throw it in a tree, but another person wanted to - to help the person who couldn't fly and was about to get it when a teacher comes by, who's fault would it be?" 

I was pretty sure Pansy Parkinson's jaw dropped angrily. Hermione Granger gasped a little, and the Fawleys gave me glowing looks. 

Madam Hooch gave me a look too. A confused one. "Well, Miss Dursley, I would defiantly punish the taunting person. But, what does this have to do with anything, Miss Dursley?" 

For a spilled second, I thought of saying, "Draco Malfoy was the taunting man, Madam Hooch," but I decided not to. Instead, I said, "Just curious, that's all, Madam Hooch," and smiled. 

Madam Hooch managed to smile back. "Well, off you go! Dinner time, everyone!" 

"Are you serious?" Belle asked quite annoyed that I left Draco Malfoy alone. We were walking toward the Great Hall. "Are you insane?" 

Lily gave her a look. 

"But you're seriously letting him go?" Leslie continued. "Why?" 

"Well, that was the right thing to do," reminded Hermione. "Now, I've got to go to the —" 

"Library," we all finished for her. 

"Aren't you hungry for dinner?" I asked her. 

"I needed to get a book.  Well, see you a lot later!" Hermione twirled off. 

By the time we had come to the Great Hall, Ron had caught up to us. Even he seemed angry. 

"Why?" he demanded. 

I sighed and turned to the Fawleys. "Go on, I need to talk to Ron, apparently." 

The Fawleys all gave a small smile and hurried off, still talking about Malfoy. I turned to Ron. 

"That was the right thing to do!" I said angrily, my hands on my hips. 

Ron let out a bitter laugh. "After all he's done you let him go? " 

I rolled my eyes. "I know exactly what you need to do. You need to eat, Ronald." 

~~~

As we started to eat, Harry burst into the Great Hall, his face white. I waved him over. 

"What's up? Is something wrong?" I asked, looking closely at Harry. 

"I am the seeker of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team," Harry said very slowly. 

"You're joking."

Ron had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he'd forgotten all about it." Seeker?" he said. "But first years never — you must be the youngest house player in about —" 

" — a century," said Harry, shoveling pie into his mouth. "Wood told me."

"Who's Wood?" I asked. 

"Captain." 

 Ron was so amazed, so impressed, he just sat and gaped at Harry.

 "I start training next week," said Harry. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."

 Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall, spotted Harry, and hurried over. 

"Well done," said George in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too — Beaters."

"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." 

Then the twins spotted me. 

"So how is having a cousin like Harry, Durs?" George asked. 

"Can we call you Durs, Dursley?" Fred questioned. 

"Um —" I was about to explain to them that they could call me Diane but Ron interfered. 

"Call her Diane before she flips." 

I shot Ron a look. Okay, Dursley may not be the best last name in history. 

"Anyway, we've got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school." 

"Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you." 

Fred and George had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcomes turned up: Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Having the last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the muggles?"

 "You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harry coolly. 

There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl. 

"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only — no contact. Unless you want to bring your loser — cousin," he corrected. "What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?" 

"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's yours?" 

Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up. 

"Crabbe," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

 When Malfoy had gone, Ron and Harry looked at each other and then at me. 

"What is a wizard's duel?" said Harry. "And what do you mean, you're second?"

 "Well, a second's there to take over if you die," said Ron casually, getting started at last on his cold pie. Catching the look on Harry's face, he added quickly, "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."

 "And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?"

 "Throw it away and punch him on the nose," Ron suggested. 

"I don't think this is a good idea," I said to them both. 

"Excuse me." 

We all looked up. It was Hermione Granger. 

"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Ron. 

Hermione ignored him and spoke to Harry. 

"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. As Diane said, it's not a good idea."

 "And it's really none of your business," said Harry.

 "Goodbye," said Ron.

"Why are you so mean to her?" I asked as Hermione angrily turned away and joined the Fawleys who was a few seats away. 

"Are you coming with us or not?" Harry asked a little harshly. 

"Fine!" I said. "I'm coming! Happy?" 

~~~

At half-past eleven, I decided to slowly climb out of bed. I pulled on my bathrobes, picked up my wands, and crept across the tower room, down the spiral staircase, and into the Gryffindor common room. A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows. 

Suddenly, I bumped into someone - or something. I turned around, trying to stifle a shriek. It was Harry and Ron. 

"Oh, it's just you," whispered Ron. 

"I thought you'd not come," Harry mumbled. 

"Shut up," I hissed. "Now come on, and get this over with." 

We had almost reached the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them, "I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry."

 A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione Granger, wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown

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

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

 "Come on," Harry said to Ron and me. He 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." 

"Go away." 

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

"She's right," I said abruptly. "This is very selfish — Harry, please, please, listen to me, I think we ought to head —" 

  Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor tower. 

"Now what am I going to do?" she asked shrilly. 

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

They hadn't even reached the end of the corridor when Hermione and I caught up with them.

 "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."

 "You've got some nerve —" said Ron loudly.

"Shut up, both of you!" said Harry sharply. I heard something."

 It was a sort of snuffling. 

"Mrs. Norris?" breathed Ron, squinting through the dark. It wasn't Mrs. Norris. It was Neville. He was curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as they crept nearer. 

"Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours, I couldn'tremember 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," I said. 

 "How's your arm?" said Harry. 

"Fine," said Neville, showing them. "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!" said Neville, scrambling to his feet, "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been passed twice already." 

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

"If either of you gets us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies, Quirrell told us about, and used it on you." 

Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps to tell Ron exactly how to use the curse of the Bogies, but Harry hissed at her to be quiet and beckoned them all forward. 

We flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. 

At every turn, I expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but we were lucky. We sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room. 

Malfoy and Crabbe weren't there yet. 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, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room.

 Harry took out his wand in case Malfoy leaped in and started at once. The minutes crept by.

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

Then a noise in the next room made us all jump. Harry had only just raised his wand when they heard someone speak — and it wasn't Malfoy. 

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner." It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. 

Horror-struck, Harry waved madly at the other three to follow him as quickly as possible; we scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice. Neville's robes had barely whipped around the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room. 

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

"This way!" Harry mouthed to the others and, petrified, we began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. We 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 right into a suit of armor. The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle. 

"RUN!" Harry yelled, and the five of us sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following — we swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Harry in the lead, without any idea where they were or where they were going — we ripped through tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along with it, and came out near their Charms classroom, which we knew was miles from the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him," Harry panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering. 

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

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

"Malfoy tricked you," Hermione said to Harry. "You realize that, don't you? He was never going to meet you — Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off." 

"Of course he did," I said scathingly. "You two — you could get us thrown out!"

"Let's go," Harry said.  

It wasn't going to be that simple. We 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 squealed with 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 caught." 

"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, we 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 we pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!"

Of course. Yup, this was the end. Here I come, Ellison Academy. Here I come Muggle World. 

 We could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could towardPeeves's shouts. 

"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry's wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, "Alohomora!" 

The lock clicked and the door swung open — we piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed our ears against it, listening. 

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me." 

"Say 'please.'"

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

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice. 

"All right — please."

 "NOTHING! Ha ha! Told you I wouldn't say anything if you didn't say please! Haha! Haaaaaa!"

 And we heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage. 

"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay— get off, Neville!" 

For Neville had been tugging on the sleeve of Harry'sbathrobe for the last minute. 

"What?" 

Harry turned around — and saw, quite clearly, what. For a moment, I was sure we'd walked into a nightmare — this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far. We weren't in a room, as I had supposed. We were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now we knew why it was forbidden. We 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. It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and I knew that the only reason we weren't already dead was that our sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant. 

Harry groped for the doorknob — between Filch and death, he'd take filth. 

We fell backward — Harry slammed the door shut, and they ran, they almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else because they didn't see him anywhere, but we hardly cared — all we wanted to do was put as much space as possible between us and that monster. We didn't stop running until we reached the portrait of the fat Lady on the seventh floor. 

"Where on earth have you all been?" she asked, looking at their bathrobes hanging off their shoulders and their flushed, sweaty faces. 

"Never mind that — pig snout, pig snout," panted Harry, and the portrait swung forward. 

We scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs. It was a while before any of us said anything. Neville, indeed, looked as if he'd never spoken again.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" said Ron finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does." 

Hermione had got both her breath and her bad temper back again. "You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

 "The floor?" Harry suggested. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads."

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

 She stood up, glaring at them."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." 

Ron stared after her, his mouth open." No, we don't mind," he said. "You'd think we dragged her along, wouldn't you?" 

But Hermione had given me something else to think about as I climbed back into bed. The dog was guarding something...What had Hagridsaid? Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to hide — except perhaps Hogwarts. It looked as though I and Harry had found out where the grubby little package from vault seven hundred and thirteen was.