THE MIDNIGHT DUEL
“Malfoy tricked you,” Hermione said to Harry. “You realize
that, don’t you? He was never going to meet you — Filch knew
someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have
tipped him off.”
Harry thought she was probably right, but he wasn’t going to tell
her that.
“Let’s go.”
It wasn’t going to be that simple. They hadn’t gone more than a
dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shoot-
ing out of a classroom in front of them.
It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of de-
light.
“Shut up, Peeves — please — you’ll get us thrown out.”
Peeves cackled.
“Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut.
Naughty, naughty, you’ll get caughty.”
“Not if you don’t give us away, Peeves, please.”
“Should tell Filch, I should,” said Peeves in a sanity voice, but
his eyes glittered wickedly. “It’s for your own good, you know.”
“Get out of the way,” snapped Ron, taking a swipe at Peeves —
this was a big mistake.
“STUDENTS OUT OF BED!” Peeves bellowed, “STU-
DENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRI-
DOR!”
Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end
of the corridor where they slammed into a door — and it was
locked.
“This is it!” Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door,
“We’re done for! This is the end!”
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