you raise me up || harry potter (revamped)

Chapter 5: Quidditch

"Why did you challenge Ron to a... a wizard's duel, was it?" Harry asked Draco dubiously, both of them back in the common room after a long day of classes. Harry knew Draco hated Ron, but he hadn't realized the hatred extended to the point of mortally wounding him. "Do you even know enough spells to throw at him?"

Draco shrugged, a hint of glee overtaking his face as he slouched in his seat.

"What's a second?" Harry asked with annoyance. "Because whatever it is you want me to do, I'm not following."

Draco snorted. "A second is someone to take over if you die. And besides, I'm not going to actually show up," he said, rolling his eyes. "Think, Potter. I'm not as thick-headed as Weasley to go sneaking around the castle at midnight."

It suddenly clicked. "You tipped off Filch," Harry said. It came out more as a statement than a question.

"Ob-viously," Draco smirked.

Harry had to hand it to him. As far as pranks go, this took the cake. But that didn't mean he condoned it—it was a nasty thing to do. Ron could get expelled!

Harry schooled his face into a neutral expression and forced a shrug. "Filch is senile. Wouldn't be surprised if he forgot to look in the trophy room."

Draco laughed.

♢♢♢

Harry snuck out of the common room at 11:50 that night, careful not to wake up the other boys. He held his breath as he stepped out the common room, hoping Snape wasn't patrolling around.

When he got to the trophy room, he could see Ron and Neville's silhouette against the rows of trophies glinting in the moonlight. Neville was visibly trembling. Why he had agreed to be Ron's second, Harry had no clue. If it had been up to him, he'd have chose Dean or Seamus.

"Psst," Harry hissed.

Ron nearly jumped a mile, pointing his wand in Harry's general direction. "Come out, Malfoy," he demanded.

"No, it's just me," Harry said, holding his hands up and approaching slowly. "Listen, you need to get out of here—"

Ron scoffed. "And why should I do anything you say?"

"Because," Harry said impatiently, "Draco was lying. He tipped off Filch, he's gonna come looking any minute now—"

"Why should I believe you?" Ron interrupted again.

Harry struggled to keep his frustration to a minimum. "Do you see Draco here with me? I came alone because he was trying to trick you. Now come on, before we all get caught—"

"And have him ambush me the second we round the corner? No thank you."

They all froze when they heard a slick voice. "Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

Ron's petrified face, pale and sweating in the dim light, turned to Harry. His eyes were wide.

"Told you," Harry muttered. "Move it, get to the hallway."

The three scurried out of the trophy room as silently as they could.

"Run," Harry whispered. "But as quietly as you can."

That was a mistake. Halfway down the hall, Neville tripped and crashed into a knight's suit of armor, creating a din loud enough to wake half the castle. Of all the times to be clumsy, Harry thought in exasperation.

Harry windmilled his arms, not daring to speak in case Filch recognized his voice. But the other two got the message, and they all ran blindly, diving at the next door they saw.