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Filch’s Chase


Peter seemed to teeter for the longest of seconds before actually tipping over the edge and disappearing into the darkness below, arms flailing about as he went, a look of pure shock on his face… and then, just like that, gone into the darkness.

“PETER!” bellowed Remus, running, coming to a stop just at the edge of the pit’s gaping maw.

Sirius seemed frozen in place.

James, however, didn’t even think twice. He ran as fast as he could, leaping over the edge and following after Peter, pure adrenaline powering him forward. “James! No! Wait!” Remus shouted, trying, and failing, to catch onto James’s robes to stop him. “Ohhh Merlin! That’s two of ‘em down there!”

Sirius stared on, jaw dropped, unable to believe what he’d just seen. “Do we go get Dumbledore you think?” Sirius asked, voice edging on terror. “I dunno what he’s going to do about it by the time we got him, they’d be splattered like bugs at the bottom. If there is a bottom. Oh bloody hell, what if Peter’s right about bottomless pits that go right to the center of the earth? What do we do?” he asked.

Remus, for once, was utterly clueless and just stared back at Sirius with a look of fear in his eyes.




James fell… and as he fell he realized that in the moment of adrenaline that had made him run forward to rescue Peter, he’d thrown down both his broomstick and his wand. What he wouldn’t do for either of those things now! He couldn’t see a thing, it was all dark. It took just a moment, but then he felt the wall slowly come up behind him and catch him and curve slightly and suddenly instead of falling he was sliding. The stone had become a sort of chute that carried him down, but slowly less down, and then around a corner, and it evened out. He could see a patch of light ahead and the silhouette of Peter ahead of him. He was just about to call out to Peter, when he tumbled out of sight. A moment later, James found why as the chute came to an end and he slid out of it and found himself deposited neatly into a bin on top of Peter.

Peter was shaking so hard that he seemed to vibrate.

James sat up, shaking himself off to reorient himself with his surroundings, and realized that even if he hadn’t landed on Peter’s pudgy form, it would still have been a soft landing as the bin they were in contained sheets and duvets. By the color of them, he was guessing they were from Ravenclaw. He craned his neck to look over the edge of the bin. “It’s some sort of laundry room,” he announced, glancing about. “Peter, look. It’s the laundry room. That must be where all the dirty laundry goes.”

Peter refused to look. He had his hands covering his eyes and had curled himself into a little ball in the midst of the blankets and bed clothes.

James struggled to turn around and stared back up the chute they’d fallen down. “REMUS? SIRIUS?” he called as loud as he could. There was no answer. “IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, WE’RE ALRIGHT!”

“Sp - sp - speak for yourself,” Peter whimpered.

“You’re alright,” James answered. “C’mon, we gotta figure out how to get out of here.” Luckily, his bookbag had been slung ‘round his shoulders, so he did still have the invisibility cloak. That was a break. He didn’t know where in the castle the laundry room was, but he was willing to bet it was further than he and Peter could’ve gotten without being caught by Filch while visible. James climbed out of the bin and looked around.

Robes, shirts, school ties, socks, sheets, bed clothes and more were simply washing themselves by magic. He watched as a set of green Slytherin robes dunked themselves into a wash tub, scrubbed themselves against the board, wrung out and flew across the room to a long clothes line, where two eager pins held them fast to the line. Warm air was blowing from the ceiling at the clothes on the line, drying them quickly. From there, James noticed clothes that were already dried were folding up as they dropped into baskets across the room. It was quite mesmerizing to watch and James wondered who had set it all up and how. “Blimey,” he whispered. “My mum would kill for a wash room like this!”

Peter had finally gotten the nerve up to move and was peering over the edge of the bin. “There aren’t any dragons?”

“Only clothing, Peter,” James replied.

Clumsily, Peter hauled himself over the edge of the bin, grunting as it cut into his substantial gut, and dropped himself down to the floor, where he landed with a thump on the stone floor. He got up, rubbing his bottom and looked around, watching the same process as James had done. “Wow, that’s pretty neat,” he breathed.

“Hogwarts, where even laundry is magic,” James laughed.

Peter smiled in spite of himself.

James led the way around the room, searching for a door, and they finally found it. He opened up his book bag and pulled out the invisibility cloak, shaking it loose from the folds he’d put it in. “You’re going to have to do any wand work we need doing,” he told Peter, “I left mine up in the tunnel. Blimey, I hope Sirius or Remus notice.” He frowned in concern as he threw the cloak over the two of them.

Peter held up his wand, “Here, you use mine. I’m rubbish when I’m nervous.”

Peter’s wand felt funny and light in James’s hands, and considerably shorter than his own wand. He didn’t like it, but it was better than not having a wand at all, and Peter was right about being rubbish when he was nervous. So James took the little wand and they pushed open the door tentatively.

The corridor was dark outside the laundry room, and James had no idea where they were. None of the paintings looked familiar and the suits of armor looked the same no matter where you were in the castle. They stepped out and pulled the laundry room door closed behind them. James looked left and right and neither seemed particularly more appealing than the other, so he made the random choice to go right and beckoned Peter to follow.




Meanwhile, back in the passageway, Remus and Sirius had consulted the map and discovered they were closer to the exit on the fourth floor than they were the Trophy Room, and therefore decided to move ahead instead of turning around. They’d be able to get help quicker, they reckoned, because the fourth floor corridor that the map appeared to indicate they would come out on was closer to the staircases that led to the fifth floor, where Dumbledore’s office was. The pit that Peter and James had gone down was small and only took up half the passageway, so they’d carefully moved around it without any trouble, and continued on through the dark.

Sirius was sick to his stomach, worrying about James. He was worried about Peter, too, but not as much as James. Peter at least had his wand. Sirius had found James’s wand and now carried it, clutching it like a totem, as though the tighter he held onto it, the more likely it would be that James would make it back to them just fine. He could not imagine what it would be like to lose his best friend and he had a sudden new respect for how well Lily was seeming to hold up under the loss of Alice Bell. It was a horror that Sirius Black wished to never, ever have to endure. In fact, he made a mental note, he would make James Potter swear to him that he, Sirius, would be allowed to die first, if ever the time for such things came.

They didn’t take their time through the rest of the passageway as they’d done on the first half, though they saw there was a little cove where someone had thrown a bit of rug and some toss pillows. They were too nervous to find out if their friends were okay to explore. Sirius didn’t doubt for a moment they’d come back, though, and finish the expedition. Maybe even the very next night, if James and Peter were alright, that is.

They had one more pit to dodge, but it was an easy one, too, small enough they could jump right over, and they finally reached the end and found themselves at a door.

It was at the door that Sirius realized they didn’t have the invisibility cloak. He groaned. “We’re going to get caught,” he said.

Remus replied, “Honestly, that’s what we get for being out of bed. And on a school night, no less.”

“Filch is going to be right excited about putting us in a detention,” Sirius said.

They stepped into the fourth floor corridor and found they were coming out behind a big mirror that neither had ever noticed before. The mirror closed behind them and they looked around to figure out exactly where they were. Remus figured it out first and motioned for Sirius to follow him as he led the way through twisting hallways to the staircases. The staircases were groaning and twisting as they usually did and Remus scrambled to get on a case just about to leave the fourth floor landing and Sirius hurried to join him, only just making it with a leap before the case turned away.

“We’ll go right up to Dumbledore’s office. If Filch finds us, we tell him we were looking for Dumbledore,” Remus said, determinedly.

Sirius nodded, “We don’t need Filch knowing anymore shortcuts between corridors!”

Suddenly, high above them in the hollow area made by the staircases, they heard the echoing shouts of the poltergeist, Peeves. Sirius groaned. “Oh bloody hell, last thing we need is Peeves.”

“Maybe he won’t notice us,” muttered Remus, “Just stay low.”

But Peeves had a sort of sixth-sense when it came to spotting students out of bed at night and a fetish for alerting the proper authorities. He looped and swooped down and down among the staircases until he was hovering right above Sirius and Remus. “Ohhh ickle lit’l secondies out of bed after midnight! Get lost, did you?” He rolled over so he was hanging upside down right over their heads.

Remus crept up the stairway, followed by Sirius, trying to ignore the poltergeist, just wanting to make it to the fifth floor at least before he decided to zoom off to get Filch. “Ignoring me, is you? Silly secondie thinks he can ignore Peevesy!” And with that, Peeves let out a low howl, like a wolf at the moon.

Remus looked up at him, “Shut it, Peeves.”

“Peeves knows?” whispered Sirius, confused.

“Peevsy knows everything,” sing-songed Peeves, and he blew a raspberry at Sirius as he rolled over and over, like a giant beach ball, following along with them as they made their way up the stairs. He let out the low howl again. He stopped rolling and spotted James’s wand in Sirius’s fist. “That isn’t your wand, you nasty little sneak-thief, is it?”

Sirius snapped, “It’s none of your business.”

“None of my business?” Peeves asked, “But everything is Peevsy’s business!” He cackled, grinning, “Nasty little sneak-thief probably the one who’s done it, too, aren’t you? Making that mess downstairs!”

“What mess downstairs?” Remus asked, genuinely confused.

“Acting innocent won’t get you out of trouble when Mr. Filch gets you,” Peeves giggled, “He’ll chain you up and beat you with ropes for such a mess!”

“What mess?” Remus asked.

Peeves grinned, “All that mud and water in the Entrance Hall you left behind. Messy maker making messes!”

“That wasn’t us,” Remus said, “We haven’t even been to the Entrance Hall.”

“Oh and a liar on top of it all! Lying-sneak-thieves who make messes!” Peeves hooted, “Peevsy should tell Mr. Filch, on the double!”

“Please, Peeves, we’re trying to see the Headmaster,” Sirius commanded, “There’s been an emergency.”

Peeves grinned, “Emergency? Raise the alarm! THERE’S BEEN AN EMERGENCY! EMERGENCY ON THE FOURTH FLOOR!” he zipped about in loop-de-loops, away from them, up through the stairwell, shouting into each floor’s corridors and making a horrible noise like a mix between a wolf and a police car as he spun. “AROOOO! AROOOOOO!!!”

Remus groaned.

“Peeves! Enough of that racket!” came a voice from above them. Filch. “Bloody poltergeist!”

“Other way - other way!” Remus hissed, and they both ran down the stairs. It had been one thing to be caught and in trouble for something they had done - being out of bed, that is - but they didn’t want to be blamed for making a mess in the Entrance Hall that they hadn’t done! So they scrambled madly back down the staircase, and leaped from the bottom step onto the landing it was just approaching as Filch’s voice echoed down the well in pursuit.

“Stop right there! You’re in trouble!” Filch shouted, “Peeves! Follow them!” Peeves didn’t, though. Instead, he cackled and blew a raspberry at Filch and his cackling echoed off as he zoomed away down one of the corridors on another floor. “Bloody poltergeist!” hissed Filch again.

Remus and Sirius were panting. Neither had ever run so hard in all their life. They rounded a corner and realized they were all the way down on the second floor somehow and they were fast approaching the top of the stairs that led down into the messy entrance hall. Sure enough, just as Peeves had said, there was a terrible mess of mud and water all over the floor, leading off to the stairs from the doorway. Somebody had come into the castle, soaked and caked in dirt, but the footprints faded off halfway up the stairs, so there was no telling who it was or where they’d gone. “Blimey, that’s a lot of mud,” Sirius commented, “Think it was Hagrid?”

“Dunno,” replied Remus, “But I don’t care to be blamed for it. C’mon.” He rushed on past the stairs, down the west wing of the second floor corridors. Somehow - probably by one of his secret passageways - Filch’s voice was near at hand once again, echoing down the hallway behind them. Not only were they going to get blamed for the mess, but it would be them who’d led him right to it! They reached a dead end in the corridor, nearly slamming into the wall.

“Now what?” Sirius asked.

Remus could barely breathe, he doubled over, clutching a stitch in his side, unable to form a clear plan in his head for all the thumping of his heart.

“Psst! Sirius. Remus. Over here.”

Sirius had never been so happy to hear a voice in his life. “James!” he cried and he ran toward the voice and a hand that seemed disconnected from any body, waving to him from the darkness by an old suit of armor. “Thank Merlin! Is Peter with you?”

“I’m here,” Peter squeaked. He sounded as though he was squashed in behind the armor.

“C’mon, quickly. Under the invisibility cloak. Hurry,” James said.

The other two squished in and they pressed tight against each other, using the wall to help them hide and better fit beneath the cloak. They’d only just gotten under it and seen the fabric settle when the light of the torch that Filch carried lit up the hall they’d just been standing in. His long shadow stretched across the carpet and the silhouette of his nose crept up the wallpaper as he looked about from left to right, his breath wheezing and weak. The four Gryffindor second years held their breath and squeezed tighter together.

“Where’d they go, my pet?” Filch asked the ancient orange cat, Mrs. Norris, who wove about his ankles as they approached the place where the boys hid beneath their cloak. James held his breath, Filch was so close that surely the sound of his breathing would alert him where they were and they’d all end up with detentions. Filch growled, “Know you’re here… might as well just come out now and save us both some time.”

Suddenly, there was a door that slammed down the hallway and Filch stiffened. He turned around on his heel, staring back the way he’d come. “Could’ve sworn they came this way…” he muttered, but then he was off, charging down the corridor, thinking he was in hot pursuit of his prey.