Chapter 29: Nocturnal Observations (Part 1)
"Sixty points. How many questions would I have to answer in class to earn them back?"
"Harry Potter. You didn't just crash into Malfoy. You crashed into the House Cup. God."
"Who is God?" Ron muttered beside her.
Hermione glared at him furiously.
Guilt and anxiety churned within Harry. The afternoon had already been terrifying enough, and then Professor McGonagall had spent ages tearing into him. He was still shaken and didn't dare argue back.
Every passing Gryffindor grinned and called out, "Potter, we lost sixty points. What did you do?"
"Harry, heard you knocked Malfoy off his broom? Nice one. But how are you going to win those points back?"
Most of them were just teasing him. Hardly anyone took it as seriously as Hermione. Sixty points meant nothing compared to the satisfaction of watching Slytherin lose.
Harry did not want to answer. He kept his head down and wolfed down a cold pasty. He was starving.
Ron swallowed hard, tempted to grab one too, but Hermione smacked his hand with her wand.
"Those are Harry's. You have already eaten, haven't you?"
"Harry just made them look so good."
Hermione ignored him. She chattered steadily while Harry ate, but once back in the Gryffindor common room, her tone shifted to genuine concern.
"You and Malfoy are in detention together? Where?"
"The trophy room. We're polishing the silver," Harry mumbled.
"Just the two of you?"
"And Mrs. Norris. She's supposed to be watching us."
Mrs. Norris was Filch's cat, and she was alarmingly clever. She spent her nights prowling every corner of Hogwarts, catching students who were out of bed. Even Hermione, who loved cats, was a little afraid of her. Mrs. Norris was simply too unsettling. She was skeletal, with dull gray fur and bulging eyes. If you saw her suddenly, you might think you had seen a ghost.
Ron shivered and hugged Scabters tighter. His summer experiences had left him with a deep fear of cats.
"Maybe you shouldn't go, Harry," he said. "Or you ought to speak with a professor. Ask to do it somewhere else, anywhere but with Malfoy."
Hermione nodded vigorously. She agreed completely. Malfoy was far too cunning, and Harry wouldn't stand a chance against him.
"I want to go," Harry said quietly. "Professor McGonagall told me my dad used to play Quidditch. His old trophy is in the trophy room. I want to see it."
His two friends fell silent. They could not argue with that.
But when evening came and Harry finished his homework, he got ready to head to the trophy room. Ron and Hermione silently followed him.
"What are you two doing?"
"Making sure Malfoy doesn't pick on you," Ron said, putting on a show of loyalty.
Hermione gave him a stern look. "I'm making sure the two of you don't start another fight. Gryffindor's points are low enough as it is."
Harry was touched. He knew they were worried about him and didn't want to dismiss their concern. "All right, but keep it down. Don't let Filch or Mrs. Norris spot you. And definitely don't let Malfoy see you. He'll yell and report you for being out after curfew."
They had promised.
Harry walked ahead, holding his lamp. Hermione and Ron crept behind him. They made their way to the third floor. From a distance, they could see the light spilling from beneath the trophy room door.
Filch was standing at the door with a torch. Hermione and Ron ducked around a corner and listened to his rasping, high-pitched shout.
"Harry Potter, get over here. You're not getting out of this detention. You should count yourselves lucky. Detentions used to be much harsher. Used to be thumbscrews, you know. Hand over your wands."
They heard Malfoy's furious yell. "Take it, you old filth. Be careful. If there's so much as a scratch on that wand, my father will have you sacked. He's a school governor."
A commotion erupted in the trophy room. Eventually, Filch limped out, heading away and leaving Mrs. Norris to guard the door.
Hermione and Ron waited around the corner, peeking out, ready to rush in and rescue Harry at the first sign of trouble.
But they were the ones who got a fright first.
A voice suddenly spoke from behind them. "What are you doing?"
Ron clutched at his chest, his face a mask of terror, his mouth opening in a silent gasp of shock.
"Silencio."
The spell hit him dead-on, silencing him instantly.
Hermione, who realized what was happening first, clamped a hand over her mouth. She turned to face the figure behind them, her face lighting up with delighted surprise.
It was Warren.
In the dim light of the corridor, Warren stood in his woolen pajamas with Milo at his feet. He held a rope. The other end dangled in the air, tethering Peeves.
Peeves had been struck by a spell. He grimaced and glowered, yet remained completely frozen, floating above Warren's head like a balloon.
"Warren, what are you doing here? And what have you done with Peeves?"
"I'm taking Peeves for a walk," Warren explained with a smile. "The last time I changed the sign outside the Slytherin common room, he spread it all over the castle to cause me trouble. I thought he had the wrong idea about me, so I've been talking to him these past few days. We're friends now, aren't we, Peeves?"
He gave the rope a tug. Peeves bobbed up and down, his eyes rolling back in his head as he nodded. Ron pressed himself flat against the wall, trying to make himself invisible, terrified of drawing Warren's attention. Hermione was momentarily speechless. Peeves was the most reviled presence in the school, yet nobody could stop him. He was not a ghost, nor was he truly alive. He was a poltergeist, a non-being existing on the threshold between life and death. Most spells were useless against such a peculiar spirit.
Hermione's eyes lit up. She was itching to ask Warren how he had managed it. Warren smiled at her, as if reading her thoughts. "I found it in the library. I'll show you how later. But first, we have another problem to deal with."
As he spoke, a shadowy feline shape glided past Ron's feet, its wide eyes sweeping over them. It was Mrs. Norris. The cat had an eerie skeletal appearance, making her repulsive to behold. However, Hermione and Ron watched as Warren, apparently unperturbed, pulled a piece of fish from his pocket and offered it to Mrs. Norris.
"Meow."
Mrs. Norris let out a chilling cry. Just as Hermione and Ron feared she would turn and run to fetch Filch, they were astonished to see the cat meekly lower her head and nibble at the treat. Only Milo swished her tail in displeasure.
Seeing this, Ron waved his arms frantically. Warren glanced at him and lifted the spell.
"Merlin's beard." Ron's freckles stood out against his flushed face. "Warren, how did you do that? Teach me."
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