Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

The Midnight Duel

Hello! Here's the new chapter. Sorry if it's a bit late. Exams going on. Hope you like it.

disclaimer: whatever you don't recognize, it's mine.

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The Midnight Duel

Harry had never believed that he would meet a boy he hated more than Dudley, but that was before he met Draco Malfoy. Still, first year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so they didn't have to put up with Malfoy much. Or at least, they didn't until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common-room which made them all, except for Arabella, groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday – and Gryffindor and Slytherins would be learning together.

'Typical,' said Harry darkly. 'Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy.'

He had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else.

'You don't know you'll make a fool of yourself,' said Ron reasonably.

Arabella, who looked excited at the idea of flying, was jumping up and down. 'Anyways, Malfoy always goes on and on about how great he is at Quidditch. It's probably all talk.'

Malfoy did certainly talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about the fact that first years aren't allowed to get on the house Quidditch teams. He also told anyone who was listened about how escaped Muggles that were in helicopters. He wasn't the only one who though; Seamus told people that he spent most of his childhood zooming around in his broomstick. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Even Arabella told some stories about flying with her cousin and how they would have little matched between each other.

Neville had never been on a broomstick before in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Harry felt that she had good reason, because Neville managed to have extraordinary number of accidents even with his own two feet on the ground. Hermione Granger, who was almost as nervous as flying, was trying to learn everything off of a book. She told everyone about all these stupid tips with flying she'd got out of a library book called Quidditch through the Ages. Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that could help him, but was interrupted by the arrival of the post.

Harry hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

'It's a Remembrall!' he explained. 'Grans knows I forget things – this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look you hold it tight like this and of it turns red – oh…' His face fell because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, '… you've forgotten something…'

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Harry and Ron jumped to their feet, but Arabella spoke.

'Hello Professor McGonagall. Nice day isn't it?' she said rather loudly, drawing attention to Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any other teacher in the school.

'Perfect day Miss Black. What's going on?'

'Malfoy's got my Remembrall ball, Professor,' said Neville.

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

'Just looking,' he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Ron, Arabella and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps into the grounds for their first flying lesson. The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Harry had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, grey hair and yellow eyes like a hawk.

'Well, what are you waiting for?' she barked. 'Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.'

Harry glanced down at his broom, it was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

'Stick out your right hand over your broom and say 'Up!'' called Madam Hooch at the front.

'UP!' everyone shouted.

Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. He looked around and saw how the other students did. Ron took some time, but the broom managed to go to his hand. Arabella, like him, also jumped to her hand the first time. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground and Neville's hadn't moved at all.

Madam Hooch then showed then how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

'Told you,' Harry looked over at Arabella, who had a smirk on her face. 'Malfoy's all talk.'

'Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard,' said Madam Hooch. 'Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly. On my whistle – three – two – '

But Neville pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

'Come back, boy!' she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle – twelve feet – twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and –

WHAM – a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay face down on the grass in a heap.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

'Broken wrist,' Harry heard her mutter. 'Come on, boy – it's all right, up you get.'

She turned to the rest of the class.

'None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'. Come on, dead.'

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.

'Did you see his face, the great lump?'

The other Slytherins joined in.

'Shut up, Malfoy,' snapped Arabella.

'Sticking up for Longbottom are you Black? What are you going to do if I don't? Run to daddy? And I thought the Black family could sink no lower' sneered Malfoy.

Ron, Seamus and Dean had to hold Arabella as she made her way to Malfoy with her hands in a fist. For someone that was small, she was pretty strong. Harry wished that they would let her go, Malfoy need a good punch.

'Look!' said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. 'It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him.'

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

'Give it here, Malfoy,' said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Malfoy smiled nastily.

'I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to collect – how about – up a tree?'

'Give it here!' Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt on to his broomstick and taken off. Arabella was wrong, it wasn't all talk. He could fly wee – hovering level with the topmost branched of an oak he called, 'Come and get it, Potter!'

Harry grabbed his broom.

'No!' shouted Hermione Granger. 'Madam hooch told us not to move – you'll get us all into trouble.'

'Don't listen to her Harry. Knock Malfoy of his broom,' called out Arabella, looking at Malfoy with deep hatred.

'No! Are you mad? You shouldn't be encouraging this!' said Hermione, looking mad at Arabella.

Arabella turned towards Hermione, with less hatred directed towards her. 'There are things more important than rules Hermione.'

Harry agreed with her. This was more important than some rule. This was for Neville, who couldn't defend himself. This was for Arabella, who didn't deserve to be hated because of her father. He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared, air rushed through his hair and his robes whipped out behind him – and in a rush of fierce joy he realised he'd found something he could do without being taught –this was easy, this was wonderful. He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground. He even heard an admiring whoop from Ron and whistles from Arabella.

He turned his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in mid-air. Malfoy looked stunned.

'Give it here,' Harry called, 'or I'll knock you off that broom!'

'Oh, yeah?' said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried.

'No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy,' Harry called.

The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy.

'Catch it if you can, then!' he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back towards the ground.

Harry saw the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall. He leant forward and pointed his broom handle down – next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball – he stretched out his hand, a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently on to the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.


His heart sank faster than he'd just dived. Professor McGonagall was running towards them. He got to his feet, trembling.

'Never – in all my time at Hogwarts –'

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, '– how dare you – might have broken your neck –'

'But Professor, it wasn't his – '

'Not now Miss Black – '

'But Malfoy – '

'That's enough, Mr Weasley. Potter, follow me, now.'

Harry caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle's triumphant faces as he left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall's wake as she strode towards the castle. He was going to get expelled, he just knew it. Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside.

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

'Wood?' thought Harry, bewildered; was Wood a cane she was going to use in him?

But Wood turned out to be a person, a burly fifth year boy who came out of Flitwick's class looking confused.

'Follow me, you two,' said Professor McGonagall, and they marched on up the corridor, Wood looking curiously at Harry.

'In here.'

Professor McGonagall closed the door behind them and turned to face the two boys.

'Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood – I've found you a Seeker.'

'You're joking.'

It was dinner time. Harry had just finished telling Arabella and Ron about what happened when he'd left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Arabella was grinning with excitement while Ron had a forgotten piece if steak and kidney pie halfway through his mouth.

'Seeker?' he said. 'But first years never – you must be the youngest house player in about – '

'– a century,' said Harry, shovelling pie into his mouth. He felt particularly hungry after the excitement of the afternoon. 'Wood told me.'

Ron was so amazed, so impressed; he just sat and gaped at Harry. Arabella was chuckling at Ron. She was also impressed at Harry, but at least managed to eat her pie piece.

'So when do you start training?' she asked, excited at the thought of Quidditch.

'Next week,' said Harry, 'Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret.'

'Harry, this is Hogwarts. There are no secrets in this place,' she replied with a smirk. 'People will probably find out by next week.'

Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall, spotted Harry and hurried over.

'Well done,' said George in a low voice. 'Wood told us. We're on the team too – Beaters.'

'How are the Chasers?' Arabella asked quickly at George. Harry remembered her telling him that she wanted to try out for the team in a couple of years.

George hesitated. He seemed to be uncomfortable near her. Harry noticed that some people, besides George, are still uncertain about her. He heard a couple people in the corridors saying that she's going to be just like her father. Harry didn't say anything to her about it and she didn't look like it bothered her.

'They're good. Why? Thinking about joining the team?' asked George, pretending not to be uncomfortable.

'Probably in a couple of years. Maybe fourth or fifth year,' said Arabella, looking at George with a sad look. Harry thought that she probably noticed how George hesitated.

'Anyway, you must be brilliant Harry. Wood was almost skipping when he told us. We haven't won since Charlie left, this is going to be our year.'

'Fred, we have to go. Lee reckons he'd found a new secret passage way out of the school.'

'Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you.'

Fred and George had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcome turned up: Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

'Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?'

'You're a lot braver now you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you,' said Harry coolly. There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl.

'I'd take you on any time on my own,' said Malfoy. 'Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only – no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?'

'Of course he had,' said Ron, wheeling round. 'I'm his second, Arabella third. Who's yours?'

Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up. Arabella looked like she wanted to give Ron a piece of her mind.

'Crabbe, then Goyle,' he said. 'Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room, that's always unlocked.'

When Malfoy was gone, Arabella rounded to Ron.

'What the hell were you thinking?! A wizard's duel?! We know nothing about dueling! And accepting a duel from Malfoy?! Have you gone mental?!'

'Hey! He was the one who challenged! I just agreed,' saying the last part in a small voice as Arabella's face kept getting angrier.

'What is a wizard's duel?' said Harry. Trying to redirect Arabella's fury away from Ron. 'And what do you mean by you two being my second and third?'

Arabella cooled down before replying. 'A second takes over if you were to die. A third takes over if the second dies.'

Ron looks at Harry's face as she said this. 'People only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Malfoy'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway.'

'And what if I wave my wand and nothing happened?'

'Throw it away and punch him on the nose,' Ron suggested. Arabella looked excited at that idea.

'Excuse me.'

They looked up. It was Hermione Granger.

'Can't a person eat in peace in this place?' said Ron.

Arabella elbowed him, as Hermione spoke to Harry.

'I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying – '

'Bet you couldn't,' Ron muttered, as Arabella hit his head.

' – and you mustn't go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really selfish of you'

'Selfish? We're not looking for trouble,' said Arabella, her eyebrows raised up at Hermione.

'It's really none of your business,' said Harry.

'Goodbye,' said Ron.

At half-past eleven, Harry and Ron met Arabella, who was wearing a long-sleeve blue dress gown, in the common-room. They almost reached the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them: 'I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry.'

A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione Granger, wearing a pink dressing-gown and a frown.

'You!' said Ron furiously. 'Go back to bed1'

'I almost told your brother,' Hermione snapped. 'Percy – he's a prefect, he'd put a stop to this.'

Harry couldn't believe anyone could be so interfering.

'Hermione, please go back to bed, this doesn't concern you,' said Arabella in calm voice.

'How can you agree to this? You'll all get into trouble!' said Hermione, hands on her hips.

'I am agreeing to this to make sure that these two,' pointing at the boys, 'will be alright. If by some miracle Malfoy shows up, he'll fight dirty. I know some spells that'll stop him.'

'So you're going to hex him are you? You can't! You'll turn into your father!' Hermione widened her eyes after saying the last part. Harry and Ron looked at her with wide eyes. 'I'm sorry – I didn't – '

'But you did. Let's go Harry,' Arabella turned from Hermione with tears in her eyes. She pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the hole. Harry and Ron following closely behind her, unsure of what to say after that.

Hermione wasn't giving up on them that easily. She followed them, trying to think of something else to convince them, without hurting Arabella's feelings.

'Don't you care about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourselves, I don't want Slytherin to win the house cup and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells.'

'Go away,' said Ron. 'Haven't you done enough damage?'

'All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so –'

But what they were, they didn't find out. Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a night-time visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor tower.'

'Where is she?' she asked with panic I her voice.

'She sometimes visits Violet, the other portrait, and drinks some wine with her,' said Arabella. The others gave her a questioning look. 'Uncle Remus told me.'

'What am I going to do?' she asked shrilly.

'That's not our problem,' said Ron. 'We've got to go; we're going to be late.'

They hadn't even reached the end of the corridor when Hermione caught up with them

'I'm coming with you,' she said.

'You are not.'

'D'you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds all four of us I'll tell him the truth, this I was trying to stop you and you can back me up.'

'You've got some nerve – 'said Ron loudly.

'Shut up, both of you!' said Harry sharply.

'Someone's coming,' said Arabella, looking around them for any signs of movement. There was a sort of snuffling.

'Mrs Norris?' breathed Ron, squinting through the dark.

It wasn't Mrs Norris. It was Neville. He was curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as they crept nearer.

'Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours. I couldn't remember the new password to get in to bed.'

'Keep your voice down, Neville. The password's "Pig snout" but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off to Violet, another portrait.'

'How's your arm?' said Harry.

'Fine,' said Neville, showing them. 'Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute.'

'Good – well, look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later – '

'Don't leave me!' said Neville, scrambling to his feet. 'I don't want to stay alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already.'

'For Merlin's sake! This is not a field trip!' said Arabella, furiously. She looked at the watch on Ron's arm and turned to Hermione and Neville.

'Both of you are coming with us. If either one of you gets caught, I'll personally hex you both, got it?'

Hermione opened her mouth, probably to tell her about how it was against the rules to hex people, but Harry hissed at her to be quiet and beckoned them all forward.

The flitted along corridor striped with bars of moonlight for the high windows. At every turn Harry expected to run into Filch or Mrs Norris, but they were lucky. Neville was walking beside Harry and Ron, while Arabella was walking with Hermione behind them.

'Look,' Hermione said awkwardly towards Arabella, 'what I said back at the common-room, I didn't – '

'You didn't mean?' said Arabella stopping, rounding at Hermione. The boys stopped and turned around. 'Hermione, we both know that you meant it. I hear all the whisper in the corridors when people see me. 'A Black in Gryffindor?', 'Friends with Potter?' I hear it all Hermione. They all say I'm going to end up like him. It's nothing I haven't heard before.'

'But I'm –'

'You're sorry. I get it. Let's just move on. Ok?' said Arabella. Not waiting for the answer, she marched towards the trophy room.

Harry, Ron and Neville were looking at Hermione with different reactions. Harry looked mad, Ron looked furious (mostly because it was Hermione), while Neville looked confused.

'I didn't –'started Hermione.

'Leave it. Let's just go,' said Harry, following Arabella with Ron beside him. Neville seemed to walk beside Hermione, giving her some company.

They reached trophy room, while Harry and Arabella took out their wands just in case Malfoy leapt in and started at once. The minutes crept by.

'He's late, maybe he'd chickened out,' Ron whispered.

Then a noise in the next room made them jump. Harry and Arabella only just raised his wand when they heard someone speak – and it wasn't Malfoy.

'Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner.'

It was Filch speaking to Mrs Norris. Horror-struck, Harry waved madly at the others to follow him as quickly as possible; they scurried silently towards the door away from Filch's voice. Neville's robes had barely whipped round the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room.

'They're in here somewhere,' they heard him mutter, 'probably hiding.'

'This way!' Harry mouthed to the others and, petrified, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armour. They could hear filch getting nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run – he tripped, grabbed Ron around the waist and the pair of them toppled right into a suit of armour.

The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.

'RUN!' Harry yelled and the five of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following – they swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Harry in the lead without any idea where they were or where they were going. They ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles away from the trophy room.

'I think we've lost him,' panted Harry, leaning against the door. Neville was bent over, wheezing and spluttering. Arabella was trying to catch her breath while holding on to her stomach.

'I – told – you,' Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest. 'I – told – you.'

'We've got to get back to the Gryffindor tower,' said Ron, 'quickly as possible.'

'Malfoy tricked you,' Hermione said to Harry. 'You realise that don't you?'

'Of course we realised that,' snapped Arabella. 'He never showed up and Filch did.'

'I'm just saying – '

'We know,' said Arabella, through her teeth.

Harry knew that Hermione was right about Malfoy, but wasn't going to tell her.

'Let's go'

It wasn't going to be that sample. They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.

It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.

'Shut up, Peeves – please – you'll get us thrown out.'

Peeves cackled.

'Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, naughty, you'll get caught.'

'Peeves, please, don't give us away,' said Arabella in a pleading voice.

'Should tell Filch, I should,' said Peeves in a saintly 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 – that was a big mistake.


Ducking under Peeves they ran for their live, 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 end1'

They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could towards Peeves' shouts.

'Oh, move over,' Hermione snarled. She grabbed Arabella's wand, tapped the lock and whispered, 'Alohomora!'

The lock clicked and the door swung open – they piled through it, shut it quickly and pressed their ears against it, listening.

'Which way did they go, Peeves? Quick, tell me,' said Filch.

'Say "please".'

'Don't mess around, where did they go?'

'Shan't say nothing if you don't say please,' said Peeves in his annoying sing-song voice.

'All right – please.'

'NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!' And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.

'He thinks this door is locked,' Harry whispered. 'I think we'll be Ok – get off, Neville!' For Neville had been tugging on the sleeve of Harry's dressing gown for the last minute.

'Um, guys. You might want to turn around,' said Arabella in a small terrified voice.

Harry turned around – and saw, quite clearly what she was talking about. For a moment, he was sure he'd walked into a nightmare – this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far. They weren't in a room, as he had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowing fangs.

It was standing quite still. All six staring at them, and Harry knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

Harry groped for the doorknob – between Filch and death, he'd take Filch.

They fell backwards – harry slammed the door shut, and they ran, they almost flew, back the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else because they didn't see him anywhere, but they hardly cared – all they wanted to do was put as much space a possible between them and that monster. They didn't stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.

'Where on earth have you all been?' she asked, looking at their dressing-gowns hanging off their shoulders and their flushed, sweaty faces.

'Never mind that – pig snout, pig snout,' panted Harry, and the portrait swung forward. They scrambled into the common-room and collapsed, trembling into armchairs.

It was a while before any of them said anything. Neville, indeed, looked as though he'd never speak again.

'What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?' Ron finally. 'If any dog needs exercise, that one does.'

Hermione got both her breath and bad temper back again.

'You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?' she snapped. 'Didn't you see what it was standing on?'

'It had three heads! I wasn't looking at the floor!' said Arabella, matching Hermione's voice.

'No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something.'

She stood up, glaring at them.

'I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed – or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed.'

Ron and Arabella stared after her.

'In what universe is getting expelled worse than being killed?' said Arabella with her mouth open.

'You'd think we dragged her along, wouldn't you?' said Ron, sounding annoyed at Hermione.

But Hermione had given harry something else to think about as he climbed back to bed. The dog was guarding something … What had Hagrid said? Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to hide – except Hogwarts.

It looked as though Harry had found out where the grubby little package from vault seven hundred and thirteen was.

Thank you for reading! Tell me what you think about Arabella and Hermione. They don't have the best relationship in the world, just yet. I tried my best with the two of them.

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