The Chase

Before you knew it, the new term had started and you found yourself back in class. Transfiguration was still proving to be one of your weaker classes so you made a point to sit next to Blaise in this class since he was the best in it after Theodore. Unlike the stubbornly silent Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini could at least sometimes tell you what you were doing wrong.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t Blaise who pointed out your problem.

“Your wand movements have improved, Gaunt,” Professor McGonagall critiqued you during Transfiguration class. “I noticed that was something you were struggling with last term.”

“Of course she only mentions it now,” you grumbled silently to yourself.

“Transfiguration is the branch of magic that is traditionally known for having the most consistently complex wand motions,” the Transfiguration professor lectured. “The main reason for that is because most Transfiguration spells require you to trace the object you’re transfiguring or what you’re transfiguring the object into. You struggle in this area due to the above average length of your wand.”

Daphne giggled behind you. Professor McGonagall cast a warning glance back at her. You felt your cheeks flush as you caught onto the unintended innuendo and realised what was so funny.

“How long is your wand, Gaunt?”

You winced as another loud twitter of laughter broke out behind you.

“Fi-fifteen inches, professor,” you stammered. “Mr. Ollivander said fifteen inch wands tend to favor a more spacious and dramatic style of magic.”

“That may be,” Professor McGonagall replied, “But seeing as you are currently fourteen and are still growing, you’ll find it more difficult to wave around a stiff fifteen inch stick of wood as opposed to something shorter and more flexible. You’ll be able to wield it properly once you grow into it a bit.”

Again, Daphne burst out laughing and your face went beet red at the embarrassing innuendo about the size of your wand… and your apparent need to grow into it. But it seemed that Professor McGonagall had finally reached her limit.

“MISS GREENGRASS!” she called out, “If I hear one more sound out of you… you’ll be spending tonight in detention!”

The laughter died instantly. You looked back and found that the dark-haired girl’s mouth was now in a firm line. Any hint of her previous amusement was gone. It felt like her laughter was more of an attempt to mock you as opposed to actually finding the situation humorous. Case and point, beside her, Tracey was biting her lip to keep from smiling and beside you, Blaise had his fist in his mouth and was biting his knuckle in order to hide his amusement at the nightmare of a conversation you found yourself in.

You attempted to shift the focus so you could actually get something out of the mortifying conversation. “Er… professor, didn’t you say I was showing improvement?”

“Oh, yes,” the Transfiguration professor said as she returned her attention to you. “I spotted you showing off the Flagrate Charm during the return feast.”

It was a very backhanded comment. Another professor might have been complimenting you about learning a new spell outside of class. But from the Gryffindor Head of House to a Slytherin student it sounded more like she was chiding you for showboating.

“Practicing proper penmanship with that spell can go a long way into helping you improve your wand movements as you adjust to the large size of your wand.”

You nodded at the professor’s advice but also made note of the fact that while Blaise hadn’t quite managed to muffle an amused snort… there wasn’t a sound from the girl behind you. It was almost as if Professor McGonagall was baiting her with that last line about practicing your wand movements and adjusting to its large size. But it seemed that your embarrassment was no longer funny now that she had almost gotten in trouble over it. This once again gave credence to your theory that Daphne Greengrass existed to annoy you.

“Well, that was mortifying,” you complained to Blaise as you walked out of Transfiguration fifteen minutes later.

You made it about three steps out of the classroom before you were grabbed by the collar and shoved against the wall. You looked up and found Marcus Flint towering over you.

“Malfoy, get over here!” he barked at Draco who had been following you out. Apparently not close enough to warrant Flint grabbing him. That special honor went to you. Draco came over and Flint got to the reason why he was accosting you. “The Ravenclaws beat us to the pitch!”

You watched as the other Slytherin first years hurried away and left you and Draco to be harassed by your Quidditch Captain.

Thanks to Gemma’s warning, you had already started brewing a new supply of Headache Cure and Topical Bruise Remover in preparation for this conversation and the impending practices that it was no doubt a precursor for.

You gave a short nod. “Aye-aye, Captain Flint.”

“You’re okay with that?” Flint repeated suspiciously.

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “We’re happy to have our spots on the team. Even if we’re just reserves. Did you expect us to whinge or try to weasel our way out of it?”

“Er… no,” your bloodthirsty captain replied but you could tell that he was either expecting or hoping to browbeat you and Draco into attending practice.

“Someone tipped us off that Slytherin’s second match is the first weekend in February,” Draco was happy to brag. “We figured you’d come to tell us once you booked the pitch.”

“Can you tell us what the practice schedule will be like for the week?” you requested. “And which ones you want us to come to. That way we can properly plan time to get our school work done around them.”

Flint almost looked disappointed that he hadn’t caught the two of you off guard. “Parkin’s got her first practice this Saturday morning so we’re going to be out there Saturday afternoon.” Yup. Gemma certainly saw that coming. “Same thing on Sunday. They’ve got the morning so we’ve got the afternoon. During the week she booked the pitch Tuesday and Thursday night. So we’ll have it Monday, Wednesday, and Friday night. You’re gonna be at all of ’em.”

“All of them?” you mentally repeated to yourself. So much for reserves only going to practice once a week.

“But… we have Astronomy Wednesday night,” the reserve Seeker tried to protest.

“Not ‘til midnight, smartass,” your captain countered. “That leaves plenty of time for practice. If you two wanna make the starting lineup then you’ve gotta put the work in!”

The only reason you could think of why Skye Parkin would choose to set her practices for two weeknights instead of three when she had her pick of the schedule was because she didn’t want to overwork her team. That was a stance that the ruthless Captain Flint didn’t share with his Ravenclaw counterpart.

Flint stormed off and left you alone with Draco.

“At least he’s starting to appreciate having an extra to players around during practice,” you attempted to remain optimistic about your suddenly much more busy schedule.

“This is stupid,” Malfoy complained. “You’ll get by okay since you only have to hover in front of the hoops. Flint’s gonna **** me to race Higgs every night on one of the school’s slow Shooting Stars.” The shoddy and obscenely slow state of the school’s broomsticks was one of Draco’s common complaints.

“We’ll only have to deal with that for the rest of this year,” you gave him your usual reassurance, “When we’re second years we’ll be able to bring our own brooms. Then things’ll change.”

Your mind once again flashed back to the impulsively purchased Nimbus Two Thousand that was sitting waiting for you at Quality Quidditch Supplies back in Diagon Alley. Maybe next year you’d finally get to use it.

The week progressed and on Saturday afternoon you found yourself hovering on a school broom in front of the hoops for your first Quidditch practice of the new year. The grass below you was buried under a two-inch layer of snow that refused to melt in the cold, Scottish winter.

You were bundled up in your winter cloak. It didn’t allow much in the way of unhindered movement but it was extremely necessary considering how cold it was as well as the fact that - as mere reserves - you and Draco hadn’t been given official Slytherin uniforms. In these playing conditions you needed all the extra warmth you could get.

There was probably a joke about cold-blooded snakes in there somewhere but you weren’t in the mood to make it.

You and Bletchley were situated at the goal posts on opposite ends of the pitch and the Chasers alternated taking runs at each of you. There actually seemed to be an even split between the attempts on you and your third year counterpart. Flint likely wanted to ensure that his starting Keeper was prepared to face off against Mateo, Davies, and Stretton during the upcoming match. You fell back on your previous practice survival strategy of allowing the Chasers’ first few shots through the hoops. This put Flint in a slightly better mood as it not only allowed him to score but also granted him the opportunity to shout at you for sucking. Meanwhile, it put you in the advantageous position of being able to improve over the course of the practice and also allowed you to get a read on the three Slytherin Chasers as they fell back in the familiar patterns that you remembered from last term.

Once they were done running the ‘maneuvers’ that Flint came up with during the break, the Chasers began taking one-on-one penalty shots on the goal. Any Slytherin Keeper worth his salt needed to be able to block as many penalty shots as possible when you considered how many penalties Flint’s rough play style would award the other team. That was where you decided to strike back and exploit the Chasers’ patterns and tells.

Marcus Flint was in Slytherin because he was ambitious. His ambition was obviously to lead a successful Quidditch team that featured his favored roughneck play style. He also had a level of ruthless resourcefulness which showed that he’d happily bend the rules in his favor in order to achieve that goal. However, Marcus Flint was not in the least bit cunning. His favorite strategy when attempting to score was to charge straight at you and only shift to take his shot at the very last second. Sometimes, when things weren’t going his way and he was in an especially foul mood, he’d take his frustrations out on you and forgo taking the shot entirely and just plow right into you. Afterwards, he’d play it off as another one of attempts to ‘toughen you up’. This was why it was so important to sandbag your early performance in order to keep him in a good mood.

But due to his lack of cunning and subtlety, Flint had a tell - when he began his charge he would usually glance at his intended target hoop in order to properly gauge what angle and how far he’d have to execute his late throw in order to get it in.

Since Flint was in a good mood from scoring on you during his early maneuvers, you prepared to show resistance now that you started the portion of practice where the Keeper was expected to succeed. You read his tell for his intended target then twisted to the side and shot off in time to get a hand on the Quaffle and smack it to the side so it veered wide of the goal.

“That’s more like it, Gaunt,” Flint said. “I’ve told you before; don’t be a pussy. You can’t be afraid of getting charged.” The fact that he was the only Chaser who regularly charged you seemed lost on him. But none-the-less, you nodded and allowed him to believe that his ‘coaching’ was the source of your success.

Adrian Pucey was almost the opposite of Flint. He seemed to have the cunning that Flint lacked and would come at you from multiple different angles. His favorite trick was to throw the Quaffle in a spiral which caused it to curve and spin past you. And also unlike Flint, he didn’t give his intended target away by eying it ahead of time. That signature curving spiral throw was something that Adrian practiced regularly so he already knew EXACTLY when to throw the Quaffle to get it around you into the goal. Sometimes it was a slow spiral and a shallow curve that would get it around you into the hoop that you were defending. Other times it would be a fast spiral and a steep curve that would cause the Quaffle to swing to the side and fly through a hoop you weren’t guarding.

But while Pucey didn’t give his target away by eying it up ahead of time, he did have a tell. It wasn’t his eyes. It was his hand. The fourth year had big hands. Not gorilla-sized hands like Flint but big enough to give him a very firm grip on the Quaffle. It was that grip along with an extra snap of his wrist that caused the big round Quaffle to spin in a curving spiral. The speed of said spiral was determined by Adrian’s grip on the Quaffle. An opposing Keeper in a match probably wouldn’t have noticed. But you had the unique advantage of being one of the two Keepers that Pucey regularly practiced against so you had the opportunity to regularly study his grip. Discreetly, of course. You weren’t sure if Bletchley had caught on to the tell in Pucey’s grip but you had learned to read it in order to determine how much of a curve he was going to put into his throw.

Pucey banked to the side as he entered the scoring area and looked to everyone like he was going to try and throw the Quaffle past you into the middle hoop. But you read in his grip that his real target was the left hoop. He threw and you quickly twisted to the side, flew forward, and lashed your leg out to successfully punt kick the spinning Quaffle away from the goal.

“Not bad, Gaunt,” the fourth year lightly praised you after he swooped down to collect the deflected Quaffle. “Trying to put on a good show while your little girlfriend’s watching?”

“What?” you asked. Blinking in surprise.

The Chaser’s eyes flickered to the side and you followed them to the stands. Your position in the air floating in front of the hoops allowed you to spot Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis watching you from the front of the Slytherin stands. Apparently, they’d both gotten Omnioculars during the holidays to go along with their new glasses because both of said magical magnifying devices were locked on you.

“Oh, good grief,” you groaned. “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s an annoying stalker.”

“Well, at least give her some credit for braving this cold to spy on you,” Adrian advised. “She even talked her friend into coming out with her. Maybe in a couple years you’ll appreciate that kind of dedication.”

While he didn’t seem to know WHICH WITCH was to blame… he did have a point. And admittedly there was a small part of you that respected Daphne’s tenacity. But it was only a small part. The rest of you found the girl thoroughly annoying.

“Does Flint know they’re here?” you asked hoping the terrifying Captain Flint would scare the girls off.

Pucey nodded, “But they were smart enough to wear their Slytherin scarves so he hasn’t kicked them out like he would’ve done already if they were spies from another house.”

You shook your head and refocused your attention to blocking penalty shots.

Your final Chaser, Cassius Warrington, didn’t have a tell as opposed to a clear pattern. He liked to exploit the limitations of your school-standard Shooting Star and fake you out by aiming at one hoop then twisting and actually shooting at the one at the opposite end. It was more of a ‘Marvolo Exclusive’ tactic since all the starting Keepers he’d be going up against would have respectable brooms that far outclassed yours. Your Shooting Star’s merely moderate top speed, slow acceleration, and limited maneuverability meant that you were hard pressed to make it from the right hoop to the left one in time to intercept his shot. Your best chance was to ‘fall for’ Warrington’s predictable feint early on so he’d make his throw from a range at the edge of the scoring area and give you a couple extra seconds to spin around and reach the other hoop. Every time Warrington’s favored feint worked on you but was foiled by his buddy Bletchley, who was not saddled with an inferior broom, it made his fellow third year look better in the eyes of Captain Flint. This definitely wasn’t helping your chances in making starting Keeper next year.

But unfortunately for Cassius - when you go to the well too often, it eventually runs dry. You devised an unusual counter for his favorite ‘Marvolo Exclusive’ strategy over the break that made the most of your school broom’s meager abilities and were eager to try it out.

Warrington flew into the scoring area and made like he was going to shoot at the right hoop, as usual. You needed as much time as you could get for your new special maneuver to work so you ‘fell for’ his ruse and sped toward the right hoop as fast as your Shooting Star could take you. But now that he successfully ‘faked you out’, Warrington twisted and chuckled the Quaffle at the left hoop, again, as usual. But this time, instead of slowing down in order to spin around and chase after the wayward Quaffle, you kept going at your ‘merely moderate’ top speed and reached out to hook your arm around the rim of the right hoop and used your hold to swing yourself through it without reducing your speed. You shot behind the goal posts still at ‘top speed’ and angled your broom downward so that you reached the left hoop just in time to punch your arm through the ring and deflect the incoming Quaffle.

“GAUNT!” Flint shouted as the Quaffle dropped into the snow under the goal posts. “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?”

“Er… a slingshot?” you offered. “It’s something I came up with during the break. This Shooting Star has terrible acceleration. The idea is that - when I get faked out - I swing myself through the hoop I’m already charging at and keep going at top speed instead of slowing down in order to turn around.”

“Do it again,” Flint ordered. “Exactly the same.”

Flint hovered nearby and watched as Warrington went down and retrieved the fallen Quaffle and took a couple seconds to brush the snow off it before he flew back out to midfield. He flew back into the scoring area and once again pulled his predictable fake as he was expected to do. You flew toward the right hoop, he threw for the left one, you kept going and swung yourself through the right hoop and once again managed to make it to the left hoop just in time to punch your gloved fist through the hoop and knock the Quaffle away.

Warrington swooped down and caught the Quaffle before it could hit the snow again.

Flint nodded, “Yeah… that’s Flacking.”

“What?” you repeated.

“Swinging yourself through the hoop on the other side is fine,” Flint said. “It’s the end part where you put your arm through the hoop to knock that Quaffle out. There’s a reason no one does that. It’s against the rules for the Keeper to put any part of their body through the hoop to knock the Quaffle out. It’s called Flacking and it’s a Keeper-only foul.”

You felt your stomach drop. You were so pleased about the innovative counter you came up with… only to find out it was against the rules when you finally got a chance to use it. If nothing else, you could trust Flint to know the Quidditch fouls like the back of his hand since he was the one who most often committed them.

The Slytherin Quidditch Captain narrowed his eyes and gave you a very firm look. “Don’t pull that shit unless it’s a last resort. It’ll just grant the other team another penalty shot.”

You were left blinking in surprise as Flint took the Quaffle from Warrington and flew away.

On any other team, you would’ve been told you to never pull that move again. But Marcus Flint told you to only use it as a last resort. That was Slytherin Quidditch for you.

Penalty practice ended after Terrence Higgs once again used his vastly superior Cleansweep Seven to beat Draco to the Snitch. Everyone was standing in the snow back on the ground taking a short breather.

Draco was once again grumbling about being saddled with such a slow broom.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” you commiserated. “I’m limited by my broom too.”

You glanced to the side and saw Flint nearby and raised your voice a bit, “It’s too bad there’s a thing about letting another bloke ride your broomstick. Otherwise, you could borrow a better one from someone else. Racing you on a Shooting Star isn’t going to prepare Higgs to go against Parkin and her Nimbus Two Thousand.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying–” you cut Draco off with a wave of your hand then watched as Flint eyed the group of Pucey, Warrington, and Bletchley and seemed to be sizing them up.

“Pucey! Swap brooms with Malfoy!”

The fourth year did not look pleased.

“Flint was never going to go for it if you told him what to do,” you quietly explained to Draco. “It had to be his idea. None of the others would’ve voluntarily given you their broomstick unless they were specifically ordered to.”

“Alright, Malfoy’s gonna borrow Pucey’s broomstick to put up a better match against Higgs,” Flint announced to the team. “We’ll release one of the Bludgers to make it more interesting. Bode, you're defending Higgs. Derrick, you’ve got Malfoy.”

“This is a classic Silver Arrow,” you were close enough to hear Adrian hiss to Draco as they swapped brooms. “If you fuck it up… I’ll fuck you up!”

Flint released the Snitch again and the two Seekers quickly took to the air. The younger of the two looked especially pale after Pucey’s threat. One of the Bludgers was let loose and was promptly smacked away by Peregrine Derrick before the two Beaters mounted their brooms and took off after it.

Once they were gone, Flint turned to you and the remaining Chasers and Keeper. “We need to work on our stamina going into the match. We’ve gotta run up the score against Ravenclaw if we wanna get outta last place. But since we’re stuck with two shitty Shooting Stars now, we’re gonna float in a circle and play catch to practice our passes. First person to drop a pass has to run a lap around the pitch. Every time you catch three passes, you float back an extra five feet to make it harder.”

And that was how, five minutes later, you found yourself floating fifty feet away from the others.

Pucey, you could understand. You were indirectly responsible for the fact that Malfoy was currently floating over the pitch on his Silver Arrow. Adrian was trying to take it out on you and so every pass he threw was in your direction. And honestly, you were fine with it, you probably had it coming.

Warrington and Bletchley, on the other hand, wanted to avoid running the penalty lap so they decided to chuck the Quaffle at you, the smallest one there, as hard as they could whenever it came to them in the hopes that they could overpower you and **** you to drop the Quaffle.

That meant all three of them would chuck the Quaffle at you whenever they got it. The only person not actively targeting you was Flint. He was intent on ensuring that the others could catch his hard passes.

After catching thirty passes, the only ones you could actually reach from fifty feet back were Bletchley and Flint who had previously been next to you in the circle. You were so far away from the rest of the group that they had to throw as hard as they could just to reach you. And by then their throws lost a considerable amount of power. But the near non-stop barrage of power throws from the two third years and lone fourth year had the opposite effect as they intended and wound up wearing them out. Now you were too difficult a target and none of the other guys wanted to overexert himself passing to you.

So you were left floating on your own while the other four continued Flint’s training exercise as he intended with them slowly spreading out a bit by bit over time.

At that point, even Daphne and Tracey gave up spying on you and abandoned the Quidditch pitch in favor of the warmth of the castle.

You did, however, have one spot of company.

“Go away!” you swatted at the Golden Snitch that was buzzing near your ear. It must’ve sensed that you weren’t trying to catch it and was flitting around you while no one else was around. A pass could come your way at any moment and you couldn’t afford to be distracted by the little golden ball.

Draco and Terrence would notice it soon, right?

Wrong.

The game of catch was apparently getting heated and the two Seekers were hovering above it as enthusiastic spectators. The Bludger was drawn to the multiple targets provided by the close collection of players so the two Beaters were left flying around the outside of the catch circle - that no longer apparently included you - in order to bat it away.

And that was how you were left with a Snitch buzzing around your head for another five minutes.

“Quit it!” you complained as the little ball’s silver wing flicked against your ear.

But it was in that second that Flint finally remembered you were there and suddenly twisted and chucked the Quaffle at you. You swore under your breath and flew forward to catch it then motioned to the annoying little ball that had been bugging you for the last five minutes. “OI! ONE OF YOU GET DOWN HERE AND CATCH THIS DAMN THING!”

You reared back and threw the Quaffle toward Miles Bletchley as hard as you could.

A lot happened at once. The Snitch followed the Quaffle toward Bletchley, which caused the two Seekers to dive at him. The Bludger seemed to notice the sudden movement and followed the Seekers which resulted in the two Beaters chasing after it.

The end result? Bletchley dropped the Quaffle.

Flint had one last surprise for all of you after you landed and Bletchley ran his penalty lap.

“We’re gonna end every practice from now ‘til the match against Ravenclaw with all of us running a lap around the pitch. Whoever finishes last has to run an extra lap.”

Miles Bletchley swore loudly since he was already tired from his previous penalty lap.

You all started at the same time. Nine sets of feet crushing down into the two inches of snow that covered the pitch. Pucey and Warrington quickly established themselves as the leaders of the pack with Higgs close behind. The older boys had longer strides. Draco was once again struggling to keep up with his sixth year counterpart now that they were back on the ground. Your roommate was extra miffed because even with Pucey’s Silver Arrow he hadn’t been able to beat Higgs to the Snitch. You kept pace with the already tired Bletchley. You didn’t want to kill yourself and figured there was no harm in finishing in the middle of the group alongside your fellow Keeper. It wasn’t like you would get anything from winning. You just had to avoid losing.

But after rounding the first curve, you made the mistake of looking behind you.

Bode, Derrick, and Flint were all built more for power as opposed to speed so they were the ones competing to stay out of last place. The three large, practically adult-sized boys were already winded and were panting heavily from exertion while letting out the occasional grunt.

The sight triggered something inside you which caused your mind to flash back to your terrifying birthday ordeal in the Forbidden Corridor. Three heads, three sets of mad eyes, three open mouths panting, slobbering, and growling.

You let out a shriek and took off. You ran like you did back on that night. Like a three-headed beast from the very depths of hell was chasing after you. The pitch, the other players, and the rest of the world all seemed to blur around you as you raced by. You ran as fast as you could. You ran like your life depended on it.

“Gaunt! Gaunt! GAUNT! THAT’S ENOUGH! STOP RUNNING BEFORE YOU KILL YOURSELF!”

You finally stopped and looked back to see Terrence Higgs running up behind you. It was likely him that shouted. Cassius Warrington came running up behind him… followed by Adrian Pucey… followed by Draco Malfoy… followed by Miles Bletchley…

You blinked in shock. You won? You outran all of them?

But at what cost? Your heart was pounding in your ears and the surge of terror-fueled adrenaline wore off and left you gasping, exhausted, and on the verge of throwing up.

“Looks like someone overdid it,” Pucey noted.

In the end, it was actually Flint who finished last so he told all of you to “Bugger off!” while he ran another lap on his own.

“What was that all about?” Draco asked as you returned your Shooting Stars to the broomshed. “I saw the look on your face when you went by. You were terrified. It looked like you were running from some kind of demon.”

“That’s actually… not too far off… from what I was… picturing…” you panted in response.

You definitely overexerted yourself with that last sprint. You finally stopped panting when you reached the castle but were still feeling lightheaded and extremely tired.

“We were out on the pitch for a long time,” Draco remarked. “Dinner’s about to start.”

“I think I’d prefer to pass out in bed instead,” you replied.

“You shouldn’t skip meals,” Malfoy advised. “Especially after pushing yourself so hard.”

Was he actually looking out for you?

“Alright,” you conceded.

The two of you managed to make it to the Great Hall.

“Look, see, the others are already here.”

No, you didn’t see. Your vision was still hazy. You blindly followed your roommate down the table and threw yourself into an empty spot next to someone you vaguely recognized as your best friend.

“Rough practice?” Millicent's familiar voice asked.

“Ughh…” you groaned in response. “First of many…”

“Well, there’s a spot of good news,” Millie attempted to cheer you up. “Daphne and Tracey didn’t enjoy it out there either. When they came back they said they were done following you around until after the match with Ravenclaw.”

“That’s a-AAAH-relief,” you yawned in reply then continued without thinking. “I found out what was in the Forbidden Corridor during the break and was worried that they’d find out and bug me about it.”

There was a loud clatter of silverware from across from you.

You blinked as your vision cleared and finally recognised the two girls sitting opposite you.

No…

Your addled mind slowly processed what you just said… and who you just said it in front of.

No no no…

Daphne’s mouth was hanging open. Tracey was bug eyed behind her Velma glasses.

NOOOOO!

The silent stare down was broken by Millicent giving you a firm shove. “Run, you idiot.”

The last thing you wanted to do in your current condition was more running. But this was very clearly a matter of self-preservation.

You bolted up from your seat and ran for the door.

“Greengrass! Don’t you dare climb over that table!” Gemma shouted from ahead of you. It was a testament of how out of it you were that you didn’t notice the Perfect Prefect on your way in.

You looked back to see Daphne climb back down off the bench and run along the other side of the table with Tracey.

“I warned you,” the fifth year prefect called out as you raced by. But that was the only help she gave you: a head start. “You got yourself into this mess. You’ll have to get yourself out of it.”

You barreled through the doors out of the Great Hall and briefly eyed the staircase down to the dungeons. No. Running to the refuge of your room hadn’t worked last time. And there were two of them after you now. You also had no interest in fleeing outside onto the grounds after spending hours out in the cold on the Quidditch pitch.

Your decision was made and you ran by the door down to the dungeons and instead raced up the stairs. Your best hope of losing the two girls was the giant moving maze known as the Grand Staircase.

The sound of grinding stone from the multiple moving staircases echoed in the expansive seven-floor stairwell above you. The first set of stairs finished moving into position just in time for you to reach them. You quickly started climbing and remembered halfway up about the trick step near the top and made sure to jump over it as you bounded up onto the second floor landing.

“THERE HE GOES!” you heard Daphne yell from down below you.

You rounded the corner and started climbing the second flight of stairs up to the next floor and were midway up when you heard Daphne shriek as her foot fell through the trick step that you avoided. You looked back and watched as Tracey was **** to stop to extract her friend.

But while the two girls were stopped, the staircase they were on decided it didn’t like being at the bottom of the stairwell anymore and detached itself from the first and second floor landings and slowly rose up into the air.

You smiled and gave the girls a friendly wave as their staircase flew up past you and completely bypassed the fourth floor and instead stopped up at the fifth.

But while you were stopped midway up it, the top of your staircase detached from its previous landing and started to swing across the stairwell. You held tightly onto the handrail as you rode the moving staircase but you tensed when you recognized the third floor landing the troublesome staircase was bringing you toward.

“Oh, no you don’t!” you scolded the staircase and gave the banister a firm slap. “You think I don’t recognize the Forbidden Corridor when I see it? Go back the other way!”

The suitably admonished staircase slowed to a stop, froze for a second, and then started to swing back in the other direction.

“That’s more like it,” you said as you gave the handrail a softer, reassuring pat. You disembarked the trouble making staircase on the third floor and made your way across the landing to a new set of stairs.

But a growl came from above you and you looked up to see Daphne and Tracey come tearing down the stairs from the fourth floor. You jumped and spun around and quickly ran back the way you came. This time running down the trouble making staircase for the second floor.

There was a door on the approaching second floor landing. You crossed your fingers and hoped it was an actual working door and not one of those walls that occasionally liked to pretend they were doors. You gave a silent sigh of relief when the knob turned and you were able to yank the door open before you dashed through it.

“What the?” You croaked in surprise as you somehow ran out onto the opposite side of the second floor. You shook off the door’s strange behavior and ran up the ascending flight of stairs ahead of you.

“GAUNT!” Daphne shrieked from above you. “HOW ARE YOU UPSIDE DOWN!?”

“Huh?” You stopped and looked up… and found yourself looking up… or maybe down… at an upside-down Daphne and Tracey who were standing midway up an upside-down staircase looking down… or perhaps it was actually up at you. “I think I’d notice if I was upside down.”

You jumped up off your stair and dropped back onto it. You reached up and patted your head. In spite of all your running, your hair was more or less in place. It certainly wasn’t dangling downward like it would’ve been if you were hanging from your ankles. It seemed perfectly normal to you.

“All the portraits are oriented our way!” Daphne insisted as she motioned the numerous - upside-down - portraits that lined the walls of the stairwell. “The rest of the stairwell is facing the right way! YOU’RE the only one that’s wonky!”

The seemingly upside-down Daphne, who was actually rightside-up, jumped and took a wild swipe at you - which didn’t reach - as you stood there scratching your head and puzzling over how you could’ve been inverted and not realise it.

“Must’ve been that door,” you concluded.

Tracey was suddenly overcome by a fit of giggles.

“What’s so funny?” Daphne asked her.

“I think the Grand Staircase is in a playful mood,” Tracey remarked. “We’re caught in the middle of a classic chase scene!”

“Don’t those usually involve hallways lined with doors?” you countered, “Ours involves stairs.”

“What’re you two even talking about?” Daphne demanded.

“Add it to the list of things to ask him when we finally catch him,” Tracey advised.

“Oh, right, running,” you noted. “I should get back to that before Lady Gravity realises where I am.”

You ran the rest of the way up the upside-down staircase and were pleased to find an open doorway on the landing ahead of you. You ran through it and came out… on the fourth floor?

You turned to the portrait next to you which was of a wild-haired wizard who seemed to be doing a handstand. “Am I the right way up or are you just messing with me?”

“Could be both,” the odd man suggested.

You ran back out into the stairwell and the chase resumed. You continued to run from one moving staircase to the next while attempting to stay a few steps ahead of the girls that were pursuing you.

The chase reached its ultimate conclusion when the two girls decided to split up and you found yourself caught on a staircase between them with Daphne coming down ahead of you while a still giggling Tracey ran up behind you.

You edged to the side and looked over the railing and grinned when you saw another staircase rising up from beneath yours. You took a deep breath, grabbed the banister, and vaulted over it.

“DAMN IT, GAUNT!” Daphne yelled as you dropped down onto the rising staircase. You gave the two girls another jaunty wave as it carried you all the way up to the top of the stairwell.

At that point, you were well and truly done playing around in the Grand Staircase so you ran up onto the final landing and raced down the corridor beyond it. Losing Daphne and Tracey in the Grand Staircase hadn’t worked out like you hoped and you couldn’t keep the fast paced running up for long. As you sprinted down the corridor and whizzed by an unfamiliar tapestry, you decided that what you really needed was a place to hide.

“THERE HE IS!” Tracey cried out from behind you.

You reached the end of the corridor and took a sharp turn into the next hallway. But then you stopped and flattened yourself against the wall beside a stiff-looking knight.

“Shhh!” you whispered to the armored soldier as its empty helmet turned to you. “Act natural.” The helmet turned back to look straight ahead again.

Daphne and Tracey tore around the corner and ran right by you and the knight. You waited a couple seconds then pushed off the wall, rounded the corner, and ran back the way you came.

“Wait… where’d he go?” Daphne’s voice echoed from the hallway behind you.

There was a creak of armor.

“The knight says he went that way,” Tracey imparted.

THAT ARMORED ARSEHOLE RATTED YOU OUT!

“Need a place to hide! Need a place to hide!” you thought frantically to yourself as you ran by the tapestry a second time.

“YOU’RE NOT GETTING AWAY, GAUNT!” Daphne hollered from behind you.

That’s why you needed a convenient hiding place to duck into. You streaked down the corridor back toward the Grand Staircase but skidded to a stop when a laughing, orange-clad man floated in from the open stairwell.

Peeves the Poltergeist. Your chaotic chase through the Grand Staircase had seemingly summoned Hogwarts’ resident spirit of chaos. The poltergeist was juggling three brightly coloured balloons. The balloons bulged, jiggled, and sloshed as they flew through the air and your nose crinkled as you were assaulted by the scent of whatever foul atrocities Peeves had filled them with.

Your only saving grace was the fact that the poltergeist hadn’t spotted you. But then Daphne came running up and tackled you from behind. The sound of the two of you hitting the stone floor drew Peeves’ attention.

“Oooooo! Ickle firsties!” the poltergeist cackled. His mad eyes went wide in delight as the three foul smelling balloons floated up into the air and started to fly in a circle above his head. “The perfect targets for Peevsey’s new balloons!”

Three balloons. Three targets. Things couldn’t have worked out better for him.

Tracey grabbed Daphne’s arm and pulled her up and the two girls took off running back down the corridor. You scrambled to your feet and in a bizarre twist of fate found yourself chasing Tracey and Daphne as the three of you ran from the loudly laughing poltergeist.

“NEED A PLACE TO HIDE! NEED A PLACE TO HIDE!” you all but screamed in your mind as you sprinted back down the corridor.

But then the oddest thing happened… just as you were running by the tapestry for a third time… a heavy wooden door appeared on the opposite wall.

Ahead of you was only a turn and another empty hallway. A convenient potential hiding place appeared right when you needed it the most. The last door you randomly ran through had really screwed with you but you weren’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. You spun to the side and pushed open the miracle door.

You found yourself in a small compact room which featured notably thick stone walls. It looked like a stone bunker.

“HEY! HE’S GETTING AWAY!” Daphne shrieked when she chanced a glance back.

She grabbed Tracey’s hand and quickly spun them around. You attempted to shut them out but the heavy wooden door got caught on something and as a result Daphne managed to lunge through the closing opening and wedge her leg between the door and it’s frame in a very near repeat of the chase back to the common room from last November.

Icy blue eyes shielded behind a pair of charmed oval glasses locked with yours and conveyed a clear message of mutually assured destruction. It was all or nothing. Either you let the two girls in so all of you could share in the safety of the magically appearing bunker… or she’d keep the door wedged open so all of you would be left to suffer the unpleasant odorous effects from the unholy amalgamation of foulness that Peeves pumped into his balloons.

You dragged the door open an extra inch which was just enough for the two girls to slip through then you shifted and pushed as hard as you could to finally slam it shut. There was a deadbolt above the handle which you turned and locked. There was also a thick wooden plank propped conveniently beside the door which you quickly grabbed and slipped into two metal brackets that were coming out from the stone wall just to the side of the door frame. The door was now barred.

There was also long lever coming out of the ground on the other side of the door which you grabbed with both hands and pulled… this caused an iron grate to descend from above the door. You saw the heavy wooden door glow a faint yellow color through the square holes in the iron grate as soon as it sank into the groove that was carved into the stone floor below the door for seemingly that exact purpose.

A loud splash came from outside which told you that Peeves just pelted the door with at least one of his wretched-smelling balloons. The door rattled and you could hear Peeves swearing on the other side as he pounded on it and tried to **** it open. But the locked, barred, grated, and apparently magically shielded door wouldn’t budge and the ghostly poltergeist couldn’t get through it.

You were safe.

“NO FAIR HIDING!” Peeves howled. “COME OUT COME OUT! PEEVSEY WANTS TO PLAY!”

“Haha!” you laughed back. “Better luck next time, Peevsey! NOTHING’S getting in here!”

“Or out,” came a quiet voice from behind you.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you slowly turned around to meet bespectacled gazes of Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis.

After a whirlwind chase through the upper floors of the castle… they finally had you cornered.