"Sixty points!" Harry groaned."How many questions do I have to answer in class to earn back that many points?"
"Harry Potter!" someone wailed. "You didn't crash into Malfoy—you crashed straight into the House Cup! Good heavens—"
"Who's God?" Ron muttered under his breath.
Hermione shot him a furious glare.
Harry didn't argue back. His mind was still in turmoil—the shock of the afternoon's incident, followed by hours of Professor McGonagall's relentless scolding, had left him shaken and subdued.
Every Gryffindor student who passed by their table wore the same teasing smile.
"Potter, we lost sixty points. What on earth did you do?"
"Harry, I heard you knocked Malfoy flat? Brilliant—but how are you planning to earn the points back?"
Most of them were joking. Very few took it as seriously as Hermione did.After all, sixty points was nothing compared to watching Slytherin suffer.
Harry buried his head over the table and shoveled down a pie that had long since gone cold.
He was starving.
Ron swallowed and reached for a pie himself—only to yelp as Hermione rapped his hand smartly with her wand.
"That's Harry's. Haven't you already eaten?"
"I just thought Harry looked like he was enjoying it…"
Hermione ignored him.
She lectured Harry nonstop while they ate, but the moment they returned to the Gryffindor common room, her worry took over.
"You and Malfoy have detention together?" she asked sharply. "Where are they sending you?"
"The trophy room," Harry mumbled. "Cleaning the cups."
"Just the two of you?"
"And Mrs Norris. She's there to keep an eye on us."
Mrs Norris was Filch's cat—unnervingly clever.
At night she prowled every corner of Hogwarts, catching students who dared sneak around after curfew.
Even Hermione, who loved cats, found her unsettling.
Skin and bones, dull grey fur, bulging eyes—at a glance, she looked more like a walking corpse than a living animal.
Ron shuddered and clutched Scabbers tightly to his chest.
That summer had left him wary of cats.
"Maybe you shouldn't go, Harry," Ron said. "Or talk to a professor—get it changed. At least don't make you go with Malfoy."
Hermione nodded vigorously. Malfoy was sly and vicious—how could Harry possibly outmatch him?
"I want to go," Harry said quietly."Professor McGonagall told me my dad used to play Quidditch. His trophies are still in the trophy room. I want to see them."
The other two fell silent.
They stopped trying to persuade him.
Yet later that night, when Harry finished his homework and prepared to head for detention, Ron and Hermione followed him without a word.
"What are you doing?" Harry whispered.
"Making sure Malfoy doesn't bully you," Ron said stoutly.
Hermione folded her arms."I'm making sure you two don't start a fight and lose even more points. Gryffindor's almost at the bottom already."
Harry felt a rush of warmth.
They were worried about him.
"I won't stop you," he said softly, "but stay hidden. Don't let Filch or Mrs Norris see you—and definitely don't let Malfoy see you. He'd scream bloody murder and accuse you of night roaming."
They agreed at once.
Harry led the way with his lamp, Hermione and Ron tiptoeing behind him. When they reached the third floor, the light of the trophy room was already visible in the distance.
Filch stood at the door holding a torch. Hermione and Ron ducked behind a corner as his rasping, shrill voice echoed down the corridor.
"Harry Potter! Get over here—don't think you can dodge detention! You should count yourselves lucky—detentions used to involve shackles and instruments of pain… Now hand over your wands!"
Malfoy's furious voice followed."Here, you useless old bat—be careful! If there's even a scratch on my wand, my father will have you sacked! He's on the Board of Governors!"
The trophy room rang with shouting. Before long, Filch came limping back out and headed down another corridor, leaving Mrs Norris stationed at the door.
Hermione and Ron watched anxiously from the corner.
At the slightest hint of trouble, they were ready to rush in and rescue Harry.
Instead, they were the ones who nearly jumped out of their skins.
A voice suddenly spoke behind them.
"What are you doing here?"
Ron clutched his chest like an opera singer about to hit a high note, mouth hanging open in terror.
"Silencio."
The spell struck him cleanly—leaving him utterly mute.
Hermione, however, had already clapped a hand over her mouth. She spun around, eyes lighting up with surprise and relief.
"Vaughn!"
Under the dim corridor lights stood Vaughn Weasley, dressed in woollen sleepwear. At his feet sat Guoguo Tea, calm and alert.
In Vaughn's hand was a rope.
The other end floated in midair.
Tied to it was—Peeves the Poltergeist.
Peeves had clearly been hit by some unknown spell. He bared his teeth and rolled his eyes furiously, yet couldn't move at all, bobbing in the air like a captive balloon above Vaughn's head.
"Vaughn—what are you doing here? And Peeves—"
"I'm taking Peeves for a walk," Vaughn said pleasantly.
"Last time I altered the words outside the Slytherin common room, this fellow started spreading rumors and causing me trouble. I figured he might've misunderstood me. So I've been… communicating with him these past few days."
He tugged the rope gently.
Peeves was forced to nod up and down, eyes rolling wildly.
"We're friends now, right, Peeves?"
Ron pressed himself flat against the wall, desperately trying to shrink into nothingness and praying Vaughn wouldn't notice him.
Hermione was equally stunned.
Peeves was the single most hated being in Hogwarts—and completely untouchable. He wasn't a ghost, nor truly alive, but something in between: a being of mischief, half-existent.
Most spells simply didn't work on him.
Hermione's eyes sparkled. She was burning to ask how Vaughn had done it.
Vaughn seemed to read her thoughts and smiled."I found it in the library. I'll teach you sometime—but right now, we've got another problem."
As he spoke, a silent, slinking shape brushed past Ron's shoes.
Huge eyes gleamed in the dark.
Mrs Norris.
The skeletal cat prowled like a walking omen.
Hermione and Ron watched in disbelief as Vaughn calmly pulled a strip of dried fish from his pocket and held it out.
"Meow—"
Mrs Norris let out a chilling cry.
They braced themselves, certain she'd bolt to fetch Filch—
But instead, she lowered her head and obediently began munching on the fish.
Only Guoguo Tea flicked her tail in clear displeasure.
Ron flailed his arms wildly. Vaughn glanced at him and lifted the spell.
"Merlin's beard!" Ron gasped, freckles blazing red."How did you do that, Vaughn? Teach me!"
(End of Chapter)
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