Nighttime Wanderings (Part 1)

"Sixty points! How many questions would I have to answer in class to earn that many points?"

"Harry! Potter! You didn't crash into Malfoy—you crashed into the House Cup! Good Lord—"

"Who's Good Lord?" Ron muttered beside him.

Hermione shot him a furious glare.

Harry was distracted and upset, but the terrifying encounter that afternoon, along with Professor McGonagall's hours-long scolding, had left him still shaken. He did not dare argue back.

Every Gryffindor student who passed by him asked with a grin:

"Potter, we lost sixty points. What did you do?"

"Harry, I heard you knocked Malfoy over? Nice one, but how are you going to earn those points back?"

Most of them were merely teasing him. Few took it as seriously as Hermione did—sixty points were nothing compared to making Slytherin suffer a setback!

Harry did not want to answer. He hunched over the long table and wolfed down the cold pies.

He was starving.

Ron swallowed and could not resist picking up a pie himself, only for Hermione to smack him with her wand.

"That's Harry's. Didn't you already eat?"

"Harry makes it look so good..."

Hermione could not be bothered with him.

While Harry ate, she kept chattering away. But after they returned to the Gryffindor common room, she began worrying again. "You and Malfoy have to serve detention together? Where?"

"The trophy room. We're cleaning the trophies," Harry answered vaguely.

"Just the two of you?"

"And Mrs. Norris. She'll be watching us."

Mrs. Norris was Filch's cat, and she was very clever.

At night, she often prowled through every corner of Hogwarts, catching little wizards who sneaked out after curfew.

Even someone like Hermione, who loved cats, found her somewhat frightening, because she looked a little too terrifying.

She was skin and bones, with dull gray fur and bulging eyes. A sudden glimpse of her could make you think you had seen a ghost.

Ron shuddered and instinctively hugged Scabbers tighter against his chest.

What had happened that summer had made him afraid of cats too.

"Maybe you shouldn't go, Harry," he said. "Or talk to a professor and ask to change locations. At the very least, you can't be left alone with Malfoy."

Hermione nodded repeatedly. She agreed too. Malfoy was so cunning—how could Harry possibly outmatch him?

"I want to go..."

Harry said gloomily, "Professor McGonagall said my dad used to be a Quidditch player too. His trophies from back then are still in the trophy room. I want to see them."

The two friends fell silent and stopped trying to persuade him.

But that night, when Harry had finished his homework and was preparing to head to the trophy room, Ron and Hermione silently followed him.

"What are you two following me for?"

"We're worried Malfoy will bully you," Ron said loyally.

Hermione put on a stern little face. "I'm worried the two of you will start fighting again. If Gryffindor loses any more points, we'll be down to nothing."

Harry was deeply touched.

He knew his two friends were worried about him!

Harry did not want to refuse them, so he said, "Then be careful. Don't let Filch or Mrs. Norris see you. Oh, and don't let Malfoy see you either. That guy will definitely start shouting and falsely accuse you of sneaking around at night."

The two agreed.

Harry walked in front, holding up a lamp, while Hermione and Ron tiptoed after him. When they reached the third floor, they could see the lights of the trophy room from afar.

Filch stood at the doorway holding a torch. Hermione and Ron hurriedly hid around the corner and heard his hoarse, shrill voice shouting, "Harry Potter, get over here! Don't think you can escape your detention. You should be grateful—detention used to be far less gentle. They used instruments of torture... Hand over all your wands!"

Malfoy's furious shout followed. "Here, you old bastard! Be careful! If there's even one scratch on my wand, I'll have my father throw you out. He's on the Board of Governors!"

The trophy room was filled with noisy commotion. Before long, Filch limped out and headed in another direction, leaving Mrs. Norris at the door.

Hermione and Ron waited at the bend in the corridor, peeking around the corner and keeping watch on that side.

The moment they heard anything unusual, they were ready to rush in and rescue Harry.

But they were the ones who got a fright first—

A voice suddenly came from behind them. "What are you doing?"

Ron clutched his chest with both hands, like an opera singer about to hit a high note, his face pale with terror and his mouth hanging open.

"Silencio!"

The spell struck him accurately, turning him mute.

Hermione, on the other hand, had covered her mouth at once. She turned around in delighted surprise at the person behind her—

Vaughn!

Under the dim corridor lights, Vaughn wore wool pajamas, with Fruit Tea sitting at his feet.

He was also holding a rope. Its other end floated in midair, tied to... Peeves!

Peeves seemed to have been hit by some sort of spell. He bared his teeth and glared, yet could not move at all. Like a balloon, he bobbed around above Vaughn's head.

"Vaughn, what are you doing here? And Peeves—"

"I'm taking Peeves for a walk..."

Vaughn explained with a smile.

"Last time, I changed the words outside the Slytherin common room, and this fellow went around spreading the news and causing me trouble. I figured he might have some misunderstanding about me, so I've been communicating with him these past few days. Now, we're friends, aren't we, Peeves?"

As he spoke, he tugged on the rope. Peeves was pulled into nodding up and down, rolling his eyes.

The sight made Ron press his back tightly against the wall, doing his best to make himself as inconspicuous as possible, afraid Vaughn might notice him.

For a moment, Hermione could only stammer wordlessly.

Peeves was the person every student hated most, yet no one could do anything about him. He was neither a ghost nor a living creature, but a "non-being," somewhere between life and death.

Many spells had little effect on such a peculiar spirit.

Hermione's eyes began to sparkle. She desperately wanted to ask Vaughn how he had done it.

Vaughn seemed to know what she was thinking. He smiled at her. "I found it in the library. I'll teach you when I have time, but first, we need to deal with another problem."

As he spoke, a sneaky figure had already slipped past Ron's feet. Its bulging eyes swept back and forth over them.

It was Mrs. Norris.

This ugly cat was as sinister as a skeleton, enough to disgust anyone who saw it.

But Hermione and Ron saw that Vaughn was not repulsed by it in the slightest. He took out a piece of dried fish from his pocket and offered it to Mrs. Norris.

"Meow—"

Mrs. Norris let out a chilling cry.

Just as Hermione and Ron worried that she would turn and run off to find Filch, they were astonished to see the cat lower her head obediently and begin chewing on the dried fish.

Only Fruit Tea swished her tail in dissatisfaction.

Watching this, Ron waved his arms urgently. Vaughn glanced at him and lifted the spell.

"Merlin's beard!" Ron's freckles had turned red with excitement. "Vaughn, how did you do that? Teach me!"