The Midnight Duel

Neither Harry nor Cheyenne would have ever thought they could meet anyone more obnoxious and conceited than Dudley until they had the misfortune of knowing Draco Malfoy. 

Fortunately for the duo, they only had to endure his presence when first year Gryffindors and Slytherins had Potions together, at least until they spotted the notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room. Their first Flying lesson was on Thursday...with the Slytherins... 

"Typical..." Harry groaned, "I'd always wanted to make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy..." 

Cheyenne frowned and squeezed Harry's shoulder reassuringly, knowing he'd been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else. 

"I'm sure you won't make a fool of yourself, Harry." He gave her a sidelong look and she shook her head, as though she knew exactly what he was thinking, "Malfoy's talked a lot about how good he is at Quidditch, but that could be all it is, Harry, talk." 

"You know she's right, Harry, he seems the type." Ron agreed. Harry frowned but nodded wordlessly in agreement himself; Malfoy had certainly talked a lot about flying, usually alternating between complaining about first years not being allowed to try out for the house Quidditch teams and telling long, boastful stories that often ended with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. And he wasn't the only one: from the way Seamus Finnigan explained it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on a broomstick and even Ron liked telling anyone who would listen about the time he'd nearly hit a hang glider on his brother, Charlie's, old broom. Quidditch was a constant topic for those who had come from wizarding families. From what Harry told her, Cheyenne had already heard about the argument Ron had had with Dean Thomas, one of their dorm mates, about soccer; apparently Ron hadn't the faintest idea how a game played on the ground with one ball could be so interesting. Harry even told Cheyenne about how he'd caught Ron prodding Dean's poster of the West Ham Soccer Team to see if the players would move. 

Neville was one of the few from a wizarding family who had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had kept him from going near one. When Neville told them this, Harry and Cheyenne had looked at one another, silently agreeing that she'd had a pretty good reason for it, seeing as how Neville was prone to any number of accidents even with his feet set firmly on the ground. 

Hermione, meanwhile, was just as nervous about flying as Neville. It was understandable, considering she'd come from a Muggle family and knew next to nothing about brooms or Quidditch. Unfortunately for her, though, flying was not something that could be learnt from a book. 

(Gotta give her points for trying, though...) Cheyenne couldn't help but think Thursday morning as Hermione rattled off some flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Through the Ages to the rest of the first years. While the others did their best to ignore her, Cheyenne listened with half amused interest and Neville hung onto her every word, desperate for anything that could help him stay on his broomstick later that afternoon. The arrival of the mail, though, was a very welcome distraction. 

Although Cheyenne continued to correspond with Arabella, Harry hadn't received a single letter since Hagrid's, something Malfoy was very quick to pick up on. Malfoy, meanwhile, got a daily delivery of sweets brought to him from home by his eagle owl, which he liked to open gloatingly at the Slytherin table every morning. 

A barn owl fluttered down to land in front of Neville, carrying a small package from his grandmother. Neville opened it excitedly and pulled out a small glass ball, only the size of a large marble, which looked to be full of white smoke. 

"It's a Remembrall!" He explained, holding it between his index finger and thumb, "Gran knows I tend to forget things – this will tell you if there's something you've lost or forgotten to do. If you just hold it tight like this and it turns red – oh..." His face fell as the smoke inside the Remembrall turned a brilliant scarlet, "...you've forgotten something..." 

Screwing his face up in concentration, Neville was so busy trying to remember what he'd forgotten that he wasn't fast enough to stop Draco Malfoy, who was just passing the Gryffindor table, from snatching the Remembrall from his hand. 

Harry and Ron were immediately on their feet, always ready for a fight. Professor McGonagall was on the scene in a flash, always quickest to spot trouble brewing out of the rest of the Hogwarts staff. 

"What's going on here?" She quirked a brow, sweeping her stern gaze over the group. 

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor." 

Malfoy scowled and dropped the Remembrall back onto the table. 

"I was just looking." He grumbled before stalking away toward the Slytherin table with Crabbe and Goyle in tow. 

A beautiful clear blue sky greeted the young Gryffindors as they descended the castle's front steps that afternoon, a pleasant breeze rolling in to greet them on their march across the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat section of the grounds. Directly behind them, the trees of the forbidden forest swayed darkly. 

The Slytherins were waiting for them, as were about twenty broomsticks laid out in neat rows on the ground. Harry and Cheyenne remembered Fred and George's warning about how the school brooms often vibrated if you flew too high or leaned slightly to the left. 

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, was an older woman with short, gray hair and brilliant yellow eyes that looked eerily similar to those of a hawk. 

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" She barked, hands on her hips, "Everyone pick a broomstick and stand by it. Come on, hurry up." 

Cheyenne glanced down at her broom with a frown; the wood was chipped and faded, and it was missing some bristles from its tail. 

"Now, stick your right hand out over your broom." Madam Hooch called from the front of the group, "and say 'Up!'" 

"UP!" Everyone shouted together. 

Cheyenne's broom jumped immediately into her hand, although hers' was one of the few that did. On her left, Hermione's broom simply rolled over on the ground, while Neville's hadn't moved at all. Cheyenne glanced to her right and caught Harry's eye, wondering for a moment if brooms were like horses in a way, like they could tell when a potential rider was afraid. The evident quiver in Neville's voice said only too clearly that he'd much rather keep both his feet on the ground. 

Once everyone had their broomsticks in hand, Madam Hooch showed the class how to mount them properly without risk of sliding off, then spent a few minutes walking up and down the rows, correcting their grips and positions. Harry and Ron exchanged a grin when Madam Hooch told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years, causing the boy to scowl. 

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you will kick off from the ground, hard," Madam Hooch said as she returned to the front, "Keep your brooms steady, rise just a few feet, then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle -" She raised the instrument in question to her lips, "Three - two -" 

Before Madam Hooch could even bring the whistle to her mouth, Neville, anxious at the idea of being left behind, pushed off hard from the ground. 

"Come back here, boy!" Madam Hooch shouted, but to no avail as she and the rest of the class watched Neville rise straight up into the air, like a cork being shot out of its' bottle. Cheyenne felt her heart sink as the color drained from Neville's face the further up he went, his wide eyes staring in terror at the ground he rapidly left behind. His mouth fell open in a soundless gasp as his body suddenly slid sideways on the broom, and her's popped open as well, his name teetering just on the tip of her tongue - 

Cheyenne's ability to speak fled her as a sickening crunch accompanied the THUD of Neville's body hitting the ground and she flinched, staring down at the heap he'd become with the rest of their class. None of them seemed to notice as his broomstick continued to steadily rise above them, drifting lazily out of sight toward the forbidden forest. 

Madam Hooch hurried over to Neville's prone form, kneeling to get a better look, her face as white as a sheet. 

"Broken wrist," She muttered, half to herself, "C'mon boy – it's all right, up you get." She helped Neville to his feet and turned to the rest of the class with a stern frown. 

"All of you are to remain here while I take this boy up to the hospital wing! If I see a single broom in the air, the one riding it will be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear." 

Putting a careful arm around Neville's trembling shoulders, Madam Hooch led him toward the castle while he clutched his wrist, his quiet sniffles fading into the distance. 

Obnoxious laughter burst from Malfoy's lips as soon as the two were out of earshot. 

"Did you see the look on the great lump's face?" 

The other Slytherins' laughter soon joined his. 

"Shut up, Malfoy." Parvati Patil snapped, glaring at him. 

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom, are you, Patil?" Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin girl with a squished looking nose and squinty eyes, sneered, "Never thought you'd go for fat little crybabies." 

"Better than fancying a spoiled little daddy's boy, Parkinson." Cheyenne shot back; Pansy narrowed her eyes, glaring, as Cheyenne wrinkled her nose back at her. 

"Look!" Malfoy said suddenly, drawing the class's attention as he dashed forward to snatch something out of the grass, "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him." 

The sun glinted brilliantly off the glass surface of the Remembrall as he held it between his thumb and index finger. 

"Give it here, Malfoy." Harry said with a scowl. Everyone immediately gave the pair their full attention, looking between them in anticipation. Malfoy smirked, his eyes flashing nastily. 

"Hm, no, I really think I should leave this somewhere for Longbottom to find." He watched the Remembrall as he twirled it between his fingers, appearing thoughtful, "How about up a tree?" 

"Harry told you to hand it over, Malfoy!" Cheyenne chimed in with a glare, watching in exasperation as he leapt onto his broomstick and took off. Even if neither she nor Harry wanted to admit it, Malfoy definitely knew how to fly; bringing himself level with the topmost branches of a nearby oak, he turned his broom to smirk back at them, "You two want it so badly, come and get it, Powter!" 

With their stomachs broiling, neither of the friends hesitated to grab their brooms, too. 

"No!" Hermione grabbed the end of Cheyenne's broom to stop her, "Cheyenne, you heard what Madam Hooch said – the two of you do this and we're all going to get into trouble." 

"Malfoy's going to get us all in trouble for being a showoff anyway. Besides, he needs to be knocked down a peg or two." Cheyenne mounted her broom, ignoring Hermione's indignant stare as she kicked off, hard, from the ground, her heart pounding in her chest, drumming a beat against her ribs as blood rushed behind her ears. All her anxieties and worry almost seemed to melt away in that moment as warm air blew the hair back away from her face, whipping her robes out behind her, like a bird's tail feathers. Cheyenne looked down as a wave of exhilaration crashed over her, followed shortly by a sense of freedom and near invincibility at the knowledge that she was actually flying. Was this what a bird must feel every day, soaring high above the earth, where they were practically untouchable? 

Catching each other's eye, Harry and Cheyenne exchanged bright smiles and pulled their broomsticks up to glide higher while several girls below screamed and gasped and Ron whooped in admiration. 

Turning their brooms sharply, the duo brought themselves to Malfoy's level to face him directly. He stared back with wide eyes, stunned. 

"Final warning, Malfoy, hand over the Remembrall." Cheyenne said, extending a hand toward Malfoy expectantly. 

"Or what?" Malfoy attempted a sneer, but failed, the worry pulling the corners of his lips down and causing a furrow in his brow. 

"Or we'll knock you off your broom!" Harry told him. 

"I'd like to see you two try!" Malfoy challenged. 

Without a word, Harry and Cheyenne decided to let their bodies take over, almost like they already knew what needed to be done. Leaning forward and grasping their brooms tight in both hands, they took turns barreling toward Malfoy, one after the other. Malfoy just barely dodged Harry, while Cheyenne clipped his sleeve on her way past; the duo made a couple of sharp about-faces and steadied their brooms again while the sounds of the crowd clapping drifted up from the ground below. 

"No Crabbe or Goyle to save your neck up here, Malfoy." Harry called; realization dawned on Malfoy's face, his weak sneer giving way to an almost fearful expression. 

"Catch it if you can, then!" He shouted, arching an arm up to throw the glass ball high into the air before he streaked back toward the ground. 

Time slowed to a crawl as Harry and Cheyenne watched the ball rise in a narrow arc before gravity grabbed hold of it again and sent it free-falling back toward the earth. Cheyenne accessed the ball's path for a few brief seconds as Harry took off after it, seeing her best friend would just barely miss it as she pointed her broom down and barreled after him, racing both him and the ball – wind whipped past her, whistling in her ears and whipping her hair out in a long banner of brunette waves, drowning out their classmates screams – she shot out her hand just as the ball slipped past Harry's fingers, her own curling around the cool glass surface just as she tried to straighten her broom and felt something warm press in on her left. Before she knew what had happened, she was on the grass, staring up at the clear cyan sky overhead, clutching the Remembrall firmly in her fist. 

"Chey?" She turned to meet Harry's wide green eyes as he propped himself up in the grass beside her, "D-did you -?" 

Cheyenne smiled and lifted her right hand, "I got it." 

"HARRY POTTER AND CHEYENNE POWER!" The smile that had started to spread across Harry's face abruptly vanished as he and Cheyenne sat up straight to find the source of the voice, their hearts sinking. From across the lawn, they spotted Professor McGonagall marching toward them. Glancing at one another, Harry and Cheyenne got slowly to their feet, their legs as heavy as lead. 

"Never - in my entire career -" 

Professor McGonagall was near trembling when she reached them and couldn't seem to string a proper sentence together. When she looked at them, her glasses flashed furiously in the sunlight. "How dare you – could have broken your necks -" 

"It wasn't their fault, Professor -" 

"Be quiet, Miss Patil -" 

"But Malfoy -" 

"That is quite enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, Power, you two follow me, now." 

Harry and Cheyenne exchanged another silent look and caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle's triumphant sneers as they left. Neither could quite seem to summon back the burning fury they'd felt before, though, as they followed Professor McGonagall back toward the castle; in fact, they couldn't really feel anything except for an all-consuming numbness at knowing what was to come next. They'd fallen into such a stupid trap, letting Malfoy goad them on like that and now they were going to be expelled...they hadn't even lasted two weeks...what would Arabella or the Dursleys say when the duo returned so soon...? Cheyenne already knew her grandmother would be severely disappointed in her, and she honestly wouldn't be surprised if Arabella grounded her for this little stunt, but...what about Harry? If she had to venture a guess, it would be that the Dursleys would be more than thrilled to hear Harry had flunked out of school and wouldn't be able to become a wizard after all. 

(There must be some way to change Professor McGonagall's mind about this, if not for both of us, then for Harry...this is where he belongs...in our whole lives, I've never seen him as happy as he has been here...he has to stay...) Cheyenne bit her lip as she and Harry followed Professor McGonagall up the marble staircase; their teacher didn't say a single word to either of them as she swept along the corridors, moving at such a pace the pair almost had to jog just to keep up, nor did she turn to look at them. (There must be something I can say...anything would work at this point...)  

While Professor McGonagall led them through doors and along a myriad of different corridors, Cheyenne formulated the best argument she could in her best friend's defense, gathered her courage, and opened her mouth to speak, ignoring the knot in her stomach. 

"P-Pr-Pro-Professor -" 

"Wait here." Professor McGonagall interrupted, gesturing for Harry and Cheyenne to stay while she poked her head around the door to the Charms classroom. 

"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment, please?" 

(Wood?) Cheyenne gulped, glancing at Harry again as he frowned, (Are we about to get caned?!) 

Instead of stepping out of the classroom with the dreaded piece of wood, however, Professor McGonagall was followed by a burly fifth year. He nodded to Harry and Cheyenne, his brow knit in confusion. 

"Follow me, you three," Professor McGonagall said and set off at another brisk march up the corridor. Wood glanced at Harry and Cheyenne again as they followed her. 

"In here." 

Professor McGonagall ushered the trio into an unused classroom, where Peeves was happily writing swear words on the blackboard. 

"Out, Peeves!" Professor McGonagall barked; Peeves wrinkled his nose as he tossed the chalk into a bin with a loud clang and swooped out, cursing. Professor McGonagall slammed the door after him before turning to face her students. 

"Potter, Power, this is Oliver Wood. Wood – I have found you a Seeker and his Helper." 

Wood's expression brightened, "Are you serious, Professor?" 

"Absolutely." Professor McGonagall answered briskly. "They're both naturals, like nothing I've ever seen before. That was your first time on broomsticks, wasn't it?" She addressed Harry and Cheyenne. 

"Y-yes, m-m-ma'am." Cheyenne stuttered, looking slowly between Professor McGonagall and Wood as the situation sank in. So, they weren't being expelled...? 

"Power caught that thing in her hand after a fifty-foot dive, after Potter just barely missed it." Professor McGonagall explained to Wood, almost smiling now. Almost. "Neither of them even scratched themselves, I don't think Charlie Weasley would've been able to do that." 

Wood was practically beaming now, his eyes shining bright like stars in the night sky, looking as though all his dreams had come true at once. 

"Either of you ever seen a game of Quidditch?" he asked excitedly. 

"Wood's the captain of the Gryffindor house team," Professor McGonagall explained. 

"They've both got just the right build for a Seeker and Helper, too." Wood said as he walked slowly around Harry and Cheyenne, looking at them from each angle, "He's small, light, which will give him an edge when it comes to speed – she's not quite as small as he is, but she looks sturdy, good for protection, but quick enough to keep up with him, too. We'll need to get them each a decent broom, Professor – a couple Nimbus Two Thousands or Cleansweep Sevens, I'd say." 

"I'll speak to Professor Dumbledore about bending the first-year rule this once. Heaven knows we need a better team than the one we had last year, after we were flattened in that final match against Slytherin...I couldn't bring myself to look Severus in the face for weeks..." 

Professor McGonagall paused then to peer sternly at Harry and Cheyenne over the rim of her glasses. 

"I want to hear the two of you are training hard, or I might just change my mind about punishing you." 

Then a smile suddenly tugged up the corners of her lips. 

"Your parents would've been proud; they were quite the accomplished Quidditch players themselves." 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

"You're joking." Ron gaped at Harry and Cheyenne as they finished recounting the events of the afternoon. The piece of steak and kidney pie raised halfway to his mouth was now forgotten. 

"Seeker and Helper?" He breathed, dropping his fork onto his plate with a loud clatter, "But first years never – the two of you must be the youngest house players in a -" 

" - a century." Cheyenne finished while Harry shoveled food into his mouth; that afternoon's excitement had left him feeling particularly famished tonight, "Wood's told us already." 

Ron continued to gap at Harry and Cheyenne with wide eyes, his mouth open. 

"We start our training next week," Harry explained, allowing Cheyenne the chance to dig into her own food, "Just be sure you don't tell anyone else, Wood wants to keep it a secret." 

A tap on her shoulder drew Cheyenne's attention before she could enjoy the piece of pork chop and mashed potatoes she had raised to her lips; Fred swooped in to intercept the bite of food and grinned at her as she whirled around to frown at him. 

"Well done, Harry, Cheyenne." George said in a low voice, clapping Harry on the back with a grin, "Wood's just told us the good news. We're the Beaters for the Gryffindor team." 

"I'm telling you, we're going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year," Fred chortled, throwing an arm around Cheyenne, whose blush deepened, "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is going to be brilliant. The two of you must be good, eh, Cheyenne, if you and Harry can put Wood on cloud nine." 

"Anyway, we've got to get going, Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret passage out of the castle." George patted Harry's back again as he straightened. 

"I'll bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy we found in our first week." Fred straightened, too, and squeezed Cheyenne's shoulder, still grinning, "See you later." 

"Y-yeah, later..." Cheyenne murmured, watching as the twins left the Great Hall before someone far less welcome approached them. When she turned, Malfoy was smirking at her and Harry, flanked, like usual, by Crabbe and Goyle. Each of them had the same triumphant look they'd been sporting when Professor McGonagall had taken the duo away. 

"Having a last meal, Powter?" Malfoy taunted, hands on his hips, "When're you two boarding the train back to the Muggles?" 

"Much braver now that he's back on the ground, isn't he?" Harry said, mockingly, to Cheyenne, who nodded her head in agreement. 

"Especially now that he can cower behind his little friends again. Rather pathetic, if you ask me." She leaned her head against her hand, feigning boredom as she pushed the food around her plate, ignoring the sound of Crabbe and Goyle cracking their knuckles behind them. While neither of the boys could rightly be considered little in any sense of the word, there was not much they could do here, not with the High Table full of teachers. 

"I'd take either of you on at any time by myself." Malfoy sniffed indignantly, "Even tonight, if you'd like. I'll have a wizard's duel with each of you. Wands only – no contact." He eyed Harry and Cheyenne, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips once more. "What's the matter, never heard of a wizard's duel before?" 

"Of course, they have," Ron snipped, spinning round in his chair, "I'll be their second. Who's yours?" 

Malfoy looked between Crabbe and Goyle thoughtfully before indicating to Crabbe with one hand, "Crabbe." He turned back to the trio, "Midnight, in the trophy room; it's always unlocked." 

Harry, Cheyenne, and Ron each gave a curt nod and watched Malfoy waltz back toward the Slytherin table before they looked at one another again. 

"What is a wizard's duel?" Harry asked with pinched eyebrows, turning to Ron, "And what'd you mean, you're our second?" 

"There's always a second in a wizard's duel, just in case the first person dies." Ron shrugged, as casually as though they were talking about the weather as he turned back to his now cold pie. Harry's eyes widened and he spun to look at Cheyenne in shock, though she smiled reassuringly and reached across the table to squeeze his hand. 

"Don't worry, Harry, nothing like that is going to happen in this match. I've read death only happens in a proper wizard's duel, with witches and wizards with far more practice and education than we've had." Harry seemed to relax a little as he nodded his agreement, "I think the most you, I, or Malfoy will be able to do is shoot sparks at one another, since we don't know all that much magic yet, let alone any that could cause real damage." 

"Muff prof 'pected yuff to refuge." Ron said around a mouthful of food. 

"What should we do if we wave our wands, and nothing happens?" Harry frowned as Cheyenne returned to her own plate. Ron shrugged and swallowed. 

"Just throw your wands away and punch him in the nose, I'm sure you could make him look better." Ron snickered as Cheyenne chuckled into her goblet but froze when she felt someone behind her. 

"Excuse me." 

Harry and Ron looked up as Cheyenne slowly set her goblet down and turned. Hermione was standing directly behind her, frowning in disapproval. 

"Can't a person eat in peace around here?" Ron grumbled, glowering. Hermione ignores him, her focus on Harry and Cheyenne. 

"I couldn't help but overhear what the two of you were talking with Malfoy about -" 

"Bet you could..." Ron muttered. 

" - and neither of you should go wandering around the school at night, just think of the points you could lose Gryffindor if you're caught." Hermione turned to Cheyenne, "Cheyenne, you know you're bound to get caught! Please, see some sense and don't do something so selfish!" 

"This is really none of your business." Harry told her through narrowed eyes before Cheyenne could open her mouth to speak, "So, we'd appreciate it if you'd butt out." 

"Good-bye." Ron said, waving his hand dismissively. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

While the boys were quick to dismiss Hermione and her advice, Cheyenne found it difficult to shake the feeling that she was right as she sat with Harry and Ron in the common room that evening, half listening to Ron's advice for their duel as she tried to ignore the feeling of eyes burning into the back of her head. She didn't have to look to know it was Hermione; no one else would be staring quite so intensely, like they were trying to beam their thoughts into the trio's mind. Cheyenne sighed to herself, knowing there was bound to be a lecture coming her way as soon as Hermione could get her alone...even though they hadn't known each other long, Cheyenne knew Hermione wasn't the type to give up quite so easily, especially when it came to something she strongly believed in. 

"You aren't honestly going to go through with this, are you, Cheyenne?" 

Cheyenne couldn't bring herself to look up as she picked up her hairbrush, "Hermione, please..." 

"You must know just how ridiculous this all this!" Hermione plowed on with a frown, "It was impressive watching you and Harry catch Neville's Remembrall, but you're both pushing your luck breaking yet another school rule! You're bound to get caught by Filch or Mrs. Norris and expelled for sure this time. What would your grandmother say if she knew what you were about to do?" 

"Nan would be all for putting a bully like Malfoy in his proper place." Cheyenne set the brush back on the bedside table, still without looking at her roommate, her stomach twisting into knots. Arabella had always encouraged Cheyenne to stand up for herself against bullies, especially knowing what she had to endure at Dudley's hand at her old school, but would her grandmother really want her to jeopardize her education to do so? 

"If what happened this afternoon hasn't put Malfoy in his place by now, nothing will, and you know it." Hermione put a hand on Cheyenne's shoulder, "Bullies like Malfoy don't change, Chey...you shouldn't waste your time or energy on him. It's what he wants." 

Cheyenne inhaled slowly through her nose, gathering her thoughts, and then exhaled on a sigh, rubbing her neck, "You're right...it's a waste letting him get under my skin like this." She turned slowly to face Hermione, who smiled, relieved, "But I've known Harry my entire life, Hermione, and once his mind is made up, he's as stubborn as a mule. He's all for this duel tonight." 

"Then I'll have to be there to help you convince him." Hermione nodded promptly as she turned to get herself ready for bed. Cheyenne snorted as she perched herself on top of her trunk, "I dunno Hermione...he hardly listens to me when he's like this...and with how well he listened at dinner..." 

"Don't you worry about that, if there's two of us, it's bound to work. Besides, you've been his best friend since you two were little, haven't you?' Cheyenne nodded quietly, "That must count for something. If we work together, we'll make him change his mind." 

"Sure, hope you're right about that..." Cheyenne murmured under her breath as she glanced out the window, leaning her chin against her bent knee while the stars winked at them from the black velvet blanket that was the sky. 

Hermione and Cheyenne spent the next couple of hours discussing how to best approach this subject with the boys, knowing it was going to be difficult trying to convince them to change their minds. They were careful to talk in hushed tones as the rest of their roommates drifted up from the common room and got ready for bed, even long after the other girls had fallen asleep so as not to risk being overheard. 

"Half-past eleven." Cheyenne muttered as she checked her watch, "Harry and Ron'll be expecting me in the common room." 

"Right." Hermione grabbed her pink robe and stuffed her wand into the right pocket, "Might as well have it, just in case." She pointed out when she caught Cheyenne staring. A weak smile tugged at the other girl's lips as she followed suit, stuffing her own wand into the pocket of her bathrobe before they stole out of the dormitory, being mindful not disturb any of the others on their way out. 

The Gryffindor common room was now mostly empty, the weak light cast from the few embers still glowing in the fireplace throwing looming, black shadows across the walls that would give any poor, unsuspecting pupil nightmares. Harry and Ron were waiting for Cheyenne by the portrait hole, their frowns deepening when they saw Hermione follow her down the spiral staircase. 

"What is she doing here?" Ron hissed, glowering at Hermione. 

"I've come to talk some sense into the two of you. Cheyenne's finally come around." Hermione glared back at him. Harry glanced between the girls, his brow furrowing as his gaze finally settled on his best friend. 

"Chey -" 

"I'm sorry, Harry...but you know Hermione's right on this one..." Cheyenne sighed apologetically, "As much as I want to knock Malfoy down a couple more pegs, you have to know going through with this is pushing our luck...we got lucky this afternoon that it was Professor McGonagall who caught us flying and not Madam Hooch, but good luck is bound to run out at some point...what happens if we're caught tonight and expelled? Do you really want to risk being banished from Hogwarts, the one place you've been truly happy?" 

Cheyenne stepped toward Harry and gently grabbed his arm, staring pleadingly into his eyes, "Please, Harry, think about it..." 

Harry frowned as he stared back into Cheyenne's eyes; in his gaze, she could see his conviction wavering, allowing a glimmer of doubt to peek through. Her hand slid into his and she gave him a weak smile, a silent plea for him to understand their side of the argument. He waffled, but she knew he was starting to reconsider. 

"Cheyenne is right, Harry." Hermione's voice burst their bubble and something in Harry's expression shifted; his features tightened, like he'd just pulled on a mask, his earlier resolve returning as he took a step back, his hand slipping from hers'. Cheyenne's heart sank from a combination of knowing they'd lost him and the glower he was now giving her, like she'd betrayed him. 

"Come on, we're going." Harry said to Ron before he spun on his heel to step through the Fat Lady's portrait into the corridor beyond. 

"Harry, wait!" Cheyenne scrambled out of the portrait hole after Harry and Ron, Hermione on her heels. 

"Do the two of you only care about yourselves?" Hermione hissed after the boys, "Honestly, if you both continue as you are, you're not only going to get yourselves expelled, but you're also going to lose us all the points Cheyenne got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells, and Slytherin is going to win the house cup again!" 

"Go away." Ron growled back at her as Cheyenne grabbed Harry's arm again; he didn't turn to acknowledge her, just shook her hand off as he continued down the nearest staircase. 

"Harry, please, don't do this...you're going to lose everything if you get caught tonight." She pled, wishing more than anything he would just look at her, "Harry -" 

"I'm doing this, Cheyenne." She froze in the middle of the staircase at his words, feeling her stomach plummet; Harry never said her full first name unless they were talking about something serious or he was very, very angry, "With or without you." 

"Now what are we going to do?" Hermione's shrill voice made Cheyenne wince and she glanced over her shoulder as Ron squeezed by her; Hermione stared incredulously after the redhead and, behind her, Cheyenne spotted the source of her agitation: the portrait guarding the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, usually occupied by the Fat Lady they'd all come to know well over their first couple of weeks, was now empty. They were locked out. 

"That's your problem now." Ron called behind him as he hurried to catch up with Harry, "We've got to go or we're going to be late." 

Cheyenne sighed softly as she started after the boys, "C'mon, Hermione, we might as well go with them now that we can't get back into the common room." She paused at the bottom of the stairs when she didn't hear Hermione's footsteps behind her, glancing back to be sure she was following; they caught up with Harry and Ron by the time they reached the end of the first corridor. 

"We're coming with you." Hermione told them briskly. 

"No, you're not." Ron growled. 

"D'you really think we're just going to stand out here and wait for Filch to come along? If he finds the four of us, Chey and I will just tell him the truth, that we were trying to stop the two of you, and you can back us up." 

"You've got some nerve -" Ron started, his voice rising. 

"Shh!" Cheyenne put a finger to her lips while Harry held up a hand to stop the group, glancing ahead uneasily. Cheyenne noticed his gaze, "What is it?" 

"I think I just heard something." 

The four paused to listen; somewhere further down the corridor, they could hear a muffled sound, low, deep, like someone snoring. 

"Mrs. Norris?" Ron breathed, squinting his eyes to try and see through the dark as their group advanced cautiously. It wasn't long until they spotted a large, humanoid form curled up in a ball on the floor; it was far too big to be Mrs. Norris and, as they crept closer, the figure jerked awake suddenly, lifting its head until they saw a familiar, pudgy face. 

"Neville?" 

Relief replaced the fear and anxiety that had been present on his face when he awoke, "Oh, thank goodness, you've found me! I've been out here for hours; I couldn't remember the new password to get into the tower for bed." 

"Shh, keep your voice down, Neville." Cheyenne soothed, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "I'd give you the password now, but I'm afraid it isn't going to be of much help for you at the moment, it looks like the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere." 

"How's your arm?" Harry cocked his head. 

"All better." Neville lifted his arm to show them, "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute." 

"Glad to hear it." Cheyenne smiled in relief as Harry nodded his head, glancing around the corridor. 

"Look, Neville, we'd stay and talk, but we've really got to be somewhere, we'll see you later -" 

"Don't leave me alone!" Neville paled as he scrambled to his feet, "Please, I can't be here alone anymore, the Bloody Baron's already been past twice..." 

Ron glanced at his watch before he gave Hermione, Neville, and Cheyenne a heated look. 

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

Hermione opened her mouth, ready to tell Ron exactly how to use the aforementioned curse, but Harry hissed at her to be quiet and beckoned for her and the others to follow him. 

As they crept along shadowed corridors and dodged around strips of moonlight that filtered in through the windows built high into the stone walls, Cheyenne was struck by how eerie the castle was draped in the late-night silence. The corridors they transversed during the day were almost unrecognizable in the still darkness, like they'd entered an entirely new world, bringing forth a new layer of unease and anxiety atop what they'd already been feeling. Cheyenne could swear she could hear her heartbeat in her ears as they walked and she subconsciously moved closer to Harry, her hand finding his instinctively, finding comfort in his presence. His fingers automatically wound through hers', grip tightening with each corner they rounded in anticipation of coming face to face with Filch or Mrs. Norris. Luck was still on their side, though, and they ran into no one else on their journey as they hurried up a staircase to the third floor and slipped silently into the trophy room. 

Moonlight glimmered off the crystal trophy cases that lined the walls, glinting beautifully off the silver and gold cups, shields, plates, and statues decorating each shelf, but there was neither hide nor hair of Malfoy or Crabbe. The group moved carefully along the walls, keeping a close eye on the doors on either side of the room; Harry's wand was at the ready, just in case Malfoy charged in and started straight away. The minutes ticked by. 

"They're late." Cheyenne murmured, checking her watch. 

"Maybe Malfoy's chickened out?" 

Harry frowned, glancing at Cheyenne, then Ron and opened his mouth to say something when a noise in the next room made them jump. Harry whirled in the direction it'd come, raising his wand as a voice floated in through the door they'd entered, a voice that made their hearts sink. 

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

Filch! Cheyenne's eyes found Harry's, wide with panic and fear; without a word, Harry stuffed his wand back into his robe, grabbed Cheyenne's hand again, and gestured to the other three to follow as they hurried for the opposite door, away from Flich's voice. They'd just barely slipped out of the room when they heard the caretaker's footsteps behind them, his voice far too close for their comfort. 

"They're in here somewhere," he murmured, "probably hiding." 

"This way!" Harry and Cheyenne mouthed to the others and carefully led the way down a long gallery full of suits of armor, mindful to keep their tread light, but quick so as not to draw too much attention. Behind them, they could hear Filch's footsteps and voice drawing closer as they moved until, unable to bear the pressure, Neville gave a sudden, frightened squeak and broke into a run. He'd barely taken more than a couple of steps, however, when he tripped over his own two feet, grabbing Ron around the waist on the way down as they toppled right into a nearby suit of armor. It went crashing to the floor, the sound of metal pieces clinging off the stone floor so deafening, they were all sure it would be enough to wake the entire castle. 

"RUN!" Cheyenne screamed as they sprinted down the gallery, none brave enough to even think about looking back to see if they were being followed – at the gallery entrance, they swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor after another with Harry and Cheyenne leading the charge, neither quite sure where they were in that moment or even knowing where they were going – through a tapestry, they raced down a hidden passageway, which let out near their Charms classroom. The group took the opportunity to catch their breath, thankful for the reprieve since they knew they were a good enough distance from the trophy room now. 

"I-I think we...lost him," Harry panted, leaning back into the cold stone wall as he wiped the sweat from his brow. Cheyenne leaned in beside him, putting her free hand on Neville's back to make sure he was okay as he was bent double, his hands braced on his knees while he wheezed. 

"I - warned – you!" Hermione gasped breathlessly, clutching at a stitch in her chest and glaring at Harry and Ron, "I - warned – you!" 

"We have to get back to Gryffindor tower," Ron panted, straightening up himself, "as quickly as we can." 

"Malfoy tricked you," Hermione continued, speaking solely to Harry, "You do realize that don't you?' He was never going to meet you or Cheyenne – Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have been the one to tip him off!" 

"You...you know she's right...Harry," Cheyenne gasped, slowly straightening herself, "Filch couldn't...have known...someone was going to be in there...at this time otherwise..." 

Harry glanced at Cheyenne, then Hermione silently, but just pushed off the wall without saying anything. Cheyenne sighed to herself, silently cursing his ego as she caught her breath. 

"C'mon, let's get going." 

There was yet another unknown obstacle the group needed to face before this night was over, however; they had barely gone another dozen paces when a doorknob to their left rattled and something shot out of the classroom in front of them, blocking their path. 

If any of them had thought this evening couldn't get any worse, then they'd been sorely mistaken as Peeves caught sight of them and gave a delighted squeal. 

"Shh, shut up, Peeves!" Harry hissed as Cheyenne shook her head rapidly, eyes wide, pleading. 

"Please, you're going to get us thrown out!" 

Peeves cackled wickedly, "Wandering around at midnight, are you, Ickle Firsties? Tut tut, naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty." 

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves," Hermione clasped her hands in front of her, as though in prayer, "Please." 

"Should tell Filch, I should," Peeves answered in a falsely sweet voice, tapping his chin thoughtfully as his dark eyes glimmered mischievously, "Tis for your own good, you know." 

"Get out of our way!" Ron snapped, losing patience as he took a swipe at the poltergeist. Big mistake. 

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed out in a deep, booming voice; the group covered their ears, feeling his voice pulse in their temples, "DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!" 

Ducking under Peeves, the pre-teens made a mad dash for the end of the corridor, where they slammed into an old, locked door. 

"This is it!" Ron moaned helplessly as they pushed and pulled vainly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!" 

Somewhere in the distance, they could hear footsteps pounding against the flagstone, drawing closer with each passing second as Filch ran toward Peeves's shouts. 

"Not yet, it isn't." Cheyenne pulled her wand out of her robe and shouldered Harry out of the way to tap the lock, whispering, "Alohomora!"  

The sound of the lock sliding out of place made their hearts soar as the door swung inward, allowing them all to pile inside. Cheyenne sighed in relief, stuffing her wand back into her pocket as Harry, Ron, and Hermione shoved the door shut again and pressed their ears against it, listening intently. Vaguely, she could hear Filch and Peeves's voices, now muffled through the wooden door as she surveyed their surroundings. What she saw nearly made her heart stop. 

Instead of standing in a room like they'd originally thought, the five of them were standing in another corridor...the very third floor corridor Dumbledore had forbidden the student body to enter...for good reason. 

Towering above them, so huge it filled the entire space between ceiling and floor, with a trio of wild, rolling eyes, twitching noses, and wide mouths full of long, dagger sized fangs, was a gigantic three-headed dog. It stood shock still, all three sets of eyes staring down at them in surprise at their sudden appearance, although somewhere deep in each throat, Cheyenne could hear the unmistakable sound of a warning growl building, growing louder with each passing second. 

"H-Harry -" Cheyenne's voice was little more than a high-pitched squeak as she tugged at her best friend's sleeve, trying to gain his attention. 

"What -?" Harry turned to see what the problem was, but the words died on his tongue as his eyes met the dog's dark, narrowed gaze. He tensed and pressed back into the door, groping for the doorknob. Between Filch and the dog, none of them would hesitate to pick facing Filch. 

The five fell backward as Harry threw the door open and slammed it closed behind them before they practically flew back down the corridor. Filch, thankfully, was nowhere to be seen, probably having gone to look for them elsewhere, although running into him at that moment was the last thing on their minds – the only thing any of them cared about now was putting as much space as they could between them and that dog. They didn't even think to stop until they'd reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor. 

"And where have you all been?" she asked with a quirked brow as she took in their disheveled appearances, their bathrobes hung loose about their shoulders while their faces were flushed and covered in a sheen of sweat. 

"Never mind that – pig snout, pig snout!" Harry panted; the portrait swung forward immediately to allow them entrance and the five scrambled into the common room, where they collapsed, trembling, into the armchairs. 

It took a while before any of them had calmed enough to catch their breath, let alone speak. Neville looked as though he'd never talk again in his life. 

"What do they think they're doing, keeping something like that locked up in a school?!" Ron huffed, "If any dog needs exercise, it's that one." 

Hermione sat up with a scowl, having recovered both her breath and her foul temper, "None of you use your eyes, do you?" She snapped, straightening her robe, "Didn't you see what it was standing on?" 

"The floor?" Harry supplied with a frown. 

"The dog did have three heads, Hermione, it was kinda difficult to focus on anything else." Cheyenne pointed out, hoping to avoid upsetting her friend further. Hermione huffed, irritated. 

"No, it wasn't the floor, it was standing on a trapdoor. That dog is obviously guarding something." 

She got to her feet in a huff and gave the boys a glare. 

"I hope you're both quite pleased with yourselves, you could have gotten all of us killed – or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed. Goodnight." 

With those parting words, Hermione spun on her heel and marched across the common room to disappear up the spiral staircase to the girls' dormitory. Ron stared after her, his mouth agape again. 

"No, we don't mind." He sniffed, turning back to Harry and Cheyenne, "You'd think we dragged her along for the ride, wouldn't you?" 

Harry and Cheyenne exchanged a silent look, already turning Hermione's words about the dog over in their heads and trying to remember what Hagrid had told them the day he'd taken them school supply shopping. What had it been again? Gringotts was the safest place in the world for you to hide something, with the only exception to that being Hogwarts? 

Could it be...? The grubby little package Hagrid had taken from vault seven hundred and thirteen...was that where it was now hidden?