Chapter 62. Night-time Wandering
Harry kept feeling that Neville and Hermione were only here to make trouble.
One of them kept chuntering in his ear, and the other made a huge racket every now and then.
He suddenly felt that getting safely to the Trophy Room on the third floor was nothing short of Merlin's protection.
At last, they reached the Trophy Room in one piece.
The room was deathly quiet, with no sign that anyone was there.
"It shouldn't be like this," Ron stopped before a shelf crammed with trophies, then looked at Harry, who wore the same puzzled expression. "There's no one here."
"Watch out for Malfoy." Harry kept his wand in hand, eyeing the surroundings warily.
But after they searched for a while, they still didn't see a single person.
"Could it be you've been tricked? I'm guessing Malfoy deliberately lured you here, then set some kind of trap..." Hermione said from the side, her eyes darting about uneasily—she was really afraid Professor McGonagall would pop out of some corner.
Hearing this, Harry stopped dead, realising something was wrong.
Malfoy had chosen this time on purpose—perhaps with another aim in mind.
Which meant...
Sure enough, shortly after they entered the room—
Footsteps sounded from the corridor, and the group froze at once.
"Where are you? You little miscreants..."
That familiar voice… Filch!
Judging from the footsteps, Filch was heading straight for the Trophy Room.
By now Harry was almost certain this was Malfoy's doing.
Malfoy must have deliberately drawn them here and then tipped off Filch!
...
With almost no hesitation, Filch opened the Trophy Room door.
And at that very moment, Harry and the others had already left through the other door.
"Hurry, hurry, hurry!"
They tore off at a sprint.
They had no idea how long they ran before they finally tumbled into an abandoned classroom.
After making sure they had shaken Filch off, they leaned against the wall and let out long breaths.
Hermione felt as if her legs no longer belonged to her.
Whatever the case, she was an accomplice as well—if they were caught, that would make four of them!
Four people losing House points—she had no idea how long it would take to earn them back.
"Are we safe?" Hermione squatted in the corner, drenched in sweat. "I told you earlier..."
She had already repeated that line more times than she could count.
"Damn Malfoy," Ron snarled, swinging a fist. "When I see him tomorrow, I'll—"
Hermione shot him a glare. "You should have listened to me from the start."
After a brief rest, they took stock of where they were.
They were in a classroom piled high with junk.
"I can't run another step..." Neville flopped across a half-broken desk, panting hard.
Harry, for his part, had tossed the whole business of duelling Malfoy out of his head.
For them, there was only one goal now: avoid Filch and his cat prowling nearby and get back to the Gryffindor common room.
...
Hogwarts Castle spread in every direction, and under cover of night it was like a maze.
They wandered round and round until they came to a flight of stairs that rose and fell.
"Are you sure it's this staircase?" Ron looked uncertainly at Harry. "I don't recognise it at all. Are we lost?"
Though Harry very much wanted to say they weren't, at that moment he realised, dismally, that Ron was right.
They were lost.
If he'd known, he should have brought that rough map of Hogwarts.
Just then—
"Hallo—how are you? Anyone about? Not human's fine too..."
A faint voice drifted from the corridor next door.
The four of them looked at one another.
"Doesn't sound like Filch," Ron murmured. "Shall we take a peek?"
When a bunch of Gryffindors stick together, their courage grows by the yard.
They tiptoed round the corner—then stopped, dumbstruck.
Peeves was trussed up hand and foot and hanging upside down from the corridor ceiling, swaying like captured game. His eyes were vacant, as if he had just suffered some inhuman torment.
"Peeves? How did you end up tied like that?" Ron couldn't help jeering, more than a little gloating.
Only two days ago, Peeves had tried to sabotage their way to Potions; seeing him like this now put Ron in an instantly better mood.
Harry, however, stared at the ropes binding Peeves and felt a jolt of familiarity.
Wasn't this a teacher's magic? He'd seen it plenty of times—Incarcerous.
At Ron's words, Peeves's once-vacant eyes bulged, and the whole not-a-person grew agitated.
He writhed desperately in his bonds and screeched, "I didn't do anything! I was only passing by! He didn't say a word—just strung me up here for hours! Hours and hours!"
"Don't mind it," Hermione said nervously, watching the surroundings, afraid Peeves's shrieking would draw others over. "We have to go—this place is dangerous."
Seeing them turn to leave, Peeves panicked. "Wait! Don't go! You can't leave me here! Let me down and I'll tell you a secret!"
"What secret?" Neville asked weakly.
"Don't mind him." Harry tugged Neville to go.
"Oh."
"Oi—wait! Wait!"
Peeves made a last, frantic effort, but no one paid him any attention.
Just as the four were about to turn and leave, the rope around Peeves's ankles vanished—the duration of the Binding had ended.
"Plop." Peeves hit the floor, bounced a few times like a blob of wobbly jelly, then shot back up off the ground.
"Ha ha! Freedom!" Peeves planted his hands on his hips and laughed, his voice echoing along the corridor. "You little runts, daring to ignore the great Peeves! Now you're in for it!"
Peeves let out an ear-splitting yell, loud enough that Harry clapped his hands over his ears.
With that ruckus, never mind Filch nearby—Fred and George Weasley roaming the next floor over would have heard it too.
"Run!" Harry shouted, and the four of them spun round and bolted the other way.
...
They sprinted on, through corridors, staircases, and corners, until Peeves's shouting could no longer be heard.
But it seemed Lady Luck wasn't on their side.
Just as they were catching their breath by a suit of armour, thinking they were safe, a sudden light flared from the corner—accompanied by the sway of Filch's lantern.
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