Anything that can go wrong, will.
- Murphy's Law
Hermione wanted to skip dinner, but after having eaten almost nothing for breakfast and lunch she was now so hungry that she couldn't. She stood up slowly and started her way down to the Great Hall. She didn't even get out of the Common Room before she was intercepted by Parvati and Lavender. She could tell from their faces that they had gossip to share – it was the only occasion on which they actually sought her out anyway.
“Have you heard?” Lavender asked in a conspirational tone.
“No, I haven't,” Hermione said, hoping against hope that they would realize that she didn't want to either. She was hungry. It was futile of course.
“Harry's made Seeker,” Parvati said. “Youngest in a century.”
“Jenny says he was expelled, but don't believe her.”
“We heard it from Isabella, she knows Oliver, so she has to know.”
Hermione struggled to keep up with the information. Oliver Wood was the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, she reminded herself. The Seeker was one of the seven players in Quidditch. She knew the rules of Quidditch, of course. She had read them in Quidditch Through the Ages. There were seven players on each team. Three Chasers to try and score goals with the Quaffle, a large leather ball. One Keeper to protect the three goal hoops. Two Beaters who tried to keep the two Bludgers, small steel balls that hunted the players, away from their own team and beat them towards the enemy. One Seeker who tried to catch the elusive Golden Snitch, a tiny winged ball, whose capture was worth as much as fifteen goals and the only way to end the game.
But first-years weren't allowed on the Quidditch teams. They weren't even allowed their own brooms.
“He can't be, he's too young,” she said.
“Special circumstances,” Parvati said. “You saw him catch the Snitch... er... Remembrall, Hermione. This boy is a natural.”
“The team needs him. We haven't won since Charlie Weasley was Seeker.”
“McGonagall loves Quidditch, she hates losing.”
“I'm sure she arranged for something.”
Hermione decided it wasn't worth arguing.
“Sure,” she said. “Thanks.”
She left the Common Room, hoping she would get some undisturbed time.
Hope is not to be relied upon.
She entered the Great Hall to see Harry and Ron sitting at the table, both with huge grins on their faces. Maybe the rumour was true, Hermione thought. She walked towards them when she saw Malfoy and his cronies approaching. She stopped far enough from Harry and Ron to avoid notice, but close enough that she still could hear everything.
“Having a last meal, Potter?” Malfoy drawled. “When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?”
“You're a lot braver now you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you,” Harry retorted coolly. Malfoy's eyes narrowed and Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles. The Gryffindors looked unimpressed.
“I'd take you on any time on my own,” Malfoy said. “Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only – no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of wizard's duel before, I suppose?”
Hermione could read on Harry's face that he hadn't, but Ron saved him.
“Of course he has. I'm his second, who's yours?”
Malfoy took a moment to decide.
“Crabbe,” he said. “Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room, that's always unlocked.” He turned and left, Crabbe and Goyle trailing after him.
“What is a wizard's duel?” said Harry. “And what do you mean, you're my second?”
“Well, a second's there to take over if you die,” Ron explained. Harry's eyes went wide and Ron 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.”
Hermione realized that they were actually going to do this. Sneaking out at midnight to duel. It was time to intervene. She stood up and approached them.
“And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?” Harry was just asking.
“Throw it away and punch him on the nose.”
“Excuse me.”
The boys looked up at her. Ron's face immediately took on the look of disgust she was now so familiar with.
“Can't a person eat in peace in this place?” Ron asked. Hermione felt her throat go tight. She deliberately addressed Harry alone.
“I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying -”
“Bet you could,” Ron interrupted her.
“- 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.”
She hoped that appealing to Harry's respect for others would work, but it was a lost cause.
“And it's really none of your business,” he said.
“Goodbye,” Ron added.
Hermione walked towards the far end of the table and sat down. She was still hungry, but her appetite was gone. She ate very little, knowing that she would regret it later. Her mind was occupied with Harry. She had to find a way to keep him from doing something so stupid. He was already in deep trouble, any more and he would probably get expelled if he was the best Seeker on the planet.
“Anything troubling you, Hermione?”
It was Percy. Hermione thought hard. If she told Percy about the duel he would put a stop to it. He would keep Harry and Ron out of trouble, probably with no consequences. He was a prefect, he had the authority. He also was Ron's brother.
But if she told Percy, Harry and Ron would hate her forever.
“No, nothing,” she said, giving him a weak smile. “Just tired, you know, first flying lesson.”
It wasn't the full truth, but it wasn't a complete lie either. She was tired. Yet she knew that she had to stay awake to keep the boys from going out. If they were really going out; she still had hopes that they would be too smart.
It wasn't a day for hopes, though.
Hermione had gone to bed and waited for Lavender and Parvati to fall asleep, then pulled on her dressing-gown and gone back to the empty common room. She had turned a chair so that she could see the portrait hole but was invisible from the stair to the boys' dorms. Then she had waited.
Sure enough, at half past eleven she heard feet coming down the stairs. Harry and Ron went past her chair without noticing her. She suppressed a sigh of disappointment.
“I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry,” she said, pointing her wand at one of the lamps in the common room to light it. The boys, both in their dressing-gowns and holding their wands, whirled around.
“You!” hissed Ron. “Go back to bed!”
Hermione, however, was not going to be ordered around by Ron.
“I almost told your brother,” she snapped at him. “Percy – he's a Prefect, he'd put a stop to this.”
Ron looked about to say something back, but Harry stopped him.
“Come on,” he said and left the Common Room.
Hermione couldn't let them simply ignore her this time, though. She crept after them, keeping her voice low as to not attract attention.
“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,” Harry simply said. She had finally to concede defeat. It was, after all, their own problem.
“All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so -”
She had turned back to the portrait as she spoke, but the Fat Lady wasn't there. She was probably visiting some other portrait, but where ever she was, it meant that Hermione was locked out of the Gryffindor Tower. Panic flooded her.
“Now what am I going to do?” she asked.
“That's your problem,” Ron said lightly. “We've got to go, we're going to be late.” They walked off down the corridor.
Hermione thought quickly. If she was caught here, she couldn't really explain what she was doing outside, but if she was with the two, they could back her up. She ran after them.
“I'm coming with you,” she declared when she caught up.
“You are not,” Ron said furiously.
“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 have some nerve -” said Ron, his voice rising.
“Shut up, both of you!” Harry interjected. “I heard something.”
The fell silent. Hermione heard some sort of snuffling.
“Mrs Norris?” breathed Ron.
They were lucky. It wasn't Mrs Norris, but Neville, sleeping on the floor. He woke as they drew nearer.
“Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours. I couldn't remember the new password to get in to bed.”
“Keep your voice down, Neville,” Hermione said quietly. “The new 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 held up his arm, which showed no sign of injury whatsoever. “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 pleaded, standing up. “I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already.”
Ron looked at his watch and the glared at Neville and Hermione.
“If either of you get 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 to tell him that it was his fault she was along in the first place, but Harry shut her up and motioned them to come along.
They followed him through long corridors, taking a path that Hermione didn't know, making her lose any sense of where she was quickly. The corridors looked very different at night, lit only by the moon shining through the high windows. Every shadow looked like Mrs Norris, every noise sounded like Mr Filch. Finally they reached the trophy room on the third floor.
It looked spooky. Various trophies of all kinds lined the walls, reflecting the little light that hit them. They kept to the walls and Harry took his wand out.
“He's late, maybe he's chickened out,” Ron whispered in front of Hermione.
Suddenly a horrible thought struck her. Maybe Malfoy simply had tipped off Filch that someone would be here. It would be like him.
A noise in the next room made them jump. Then they heard Filch's voice, confirming Hermione's suspicions.
“Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner.”
Harry waved them frantically back to the door they had entered through. They had barely left the room when Filch came in, muttering.
“They're in here somewhere, probably hiding.”
Harry led them down a long gallery of suits of armour, with Filch drawing constantly nearer. A rat suddenly crossed their path, scurrying in between Ron and Hermione. She suppressed a scream, but Neville behind her didn't manage. He let out a squeak and started running, only to trip after a few steps and fall into Ron, carrying them both into a suit of armour.
The noise was terrible. The time for stealth was over.
“RUN!” Harry yelled, and run they did. Hermione only hoped Harry knew where he was going. He seemed to know a lot of the secret passages Hermione had heard of, for when they ran right through a tapestry and along a short corridor, they found themselves near the Charms classroom, a far longer way from the Trophy Room than they had run.
They stopped, unable to run any longer. Hermione had a terrible stitch in her chest. Neville was bent double, he had been dragged along by Ron more than running himself for the last minute. Harry was leaning against the wall and wiping his forehead.
“I think we've lost him,” he panted.
“I – told – you,” Hermione managed to say. “I – told – you.”
“We've got to get back to Gryffindor Tower,” said Ron, “quickly as possible.” He seemed to be in the best shape of all of them.
Hermione had found some breath.
“Malfoy tricked you,” she told Harry. “You 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 have tipped him off.”
Harry didn't answer her, but instead said, “let's go.”
At least they would be safe back in Gryffindor.
Except that it was that day.
A doorknob rattled and Peeves shot out of a classroom. He squealed in delight when he saw them.
“Shut up, Peeves – please – you'll get us thrown out,” Harry pleaded.
Peeves laughed evilly.
“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,” Peeves said, trying and failing to imitate an angel. “It's for your own good, you know.”
At that, Ron's temper got the best of him.
“Get out of the way,” he snapped, taking a swipe at Peeves.
“STUDENTS OUT OF BED!” Peeves cried. “STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!”
Once more they started running, but their flight ended soon when they reached the end of the corridor and slammed into a locked door.
“This is it!” Ron moaned. “We're done for! This is the end!”
Harry rattled uselessly at the doorknob. They could hear Filch approaching.
It was time for desperate measures. Useful charm indeed, Hermione thought as she snatched Harry's wand out of his hand.
“Oh, move over,” she snarled, then tapped the lock and whispered, “Alohomora!”
Her training paid off; the door opened with a faint click. They scrambled through and shut the door. Then they listened.
“Which way did they go, Peeves? Quick, tell me.”
“Say 'please'.”
“Don't mess me about, Peeves, now where did they go?”
“Shan't say nothing if you don't say please,” Peeves sang.
“All right – please.”
“NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!”
Peeves flew away as loudly as he could and left Filch cursing.
“He thinks this door is locked,” Harry whispered. “I think we'll be okay – get off, Neville!”
Hermione noticed that Neville was tugging on Harry's sleeve.
“What?”
It really wasn't a good night.
They all turned around – and looked into the eyes of a creature straight from their nightmares. It was a gigantic three-headed dog. It was so large that it completely filled the corridor – the forbidden corridor, Hermione noticed, no wonder it was forbidden – its heads brushing the ceiling, its feet standing on what Hermione identified as a trapdoor.
The dog started to growl, a triple-throated, thundering growl that made Hermione's blood freeze. Too terrified to even scream, they all backed against the door. Someone turned the knob and they all fell backwards, out of the corridor. Harry slammed the door shut and they ran yet again. This time they didn't stop until they reached the Fat Lady. Luckily she was back in her frame.
“Where on earth have you all been?” she asked.
“Never mind that – pig snout, pig snout,” Harry managed to say. The portrait swung open and they scrambled into the Common Room. There they collapsed into armchairs.
It took a while for them to catch their breath again and wipe their sweaty faces. Ron was the first to speak.
“What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?”
Hermione's terror had faded, and her temper rose.
“You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?” she said angrily. “Didn't you see what it was standing on?”
“The floor?” Harry said stupidly. “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 and looked 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.”
She turned around stalked up the stairs to her dormitory. She resisted the urge to slam the door and crept in her bed. She was so angry that she couldn't sleep for a long time.
When she finally fell asleep, she dreamt that she was sitting in the corner of a tiny room, terrified. Mere inches from her face was one of the three heads of the dog, its yellow teeth bared, its saliva dropping on her robes. The dog was held back only by thin leash, held by Ron, who was laughing at her.
When she woke up in the morning she resolved never to speak with the two again.