Disclaimer: It. All. Belongs. To. J. K. R..
Neville Longbottom had been outside the Gryffindor portrait hole for hours, trying to remember what the password was. The Fat Lady was no help, snoozing off occasionally or giggling,
"Can't you remember? *hic* It's a simple as. . ."
A snore signalled that the Fat Lady was fast asleep, no doubt a result of too much Christmas liquor. Neville had gotten stuck on a moving staircase after the Christmas feast and had come back late, so there was no one to help him remember.
"Please!" Begged Neville, "I'll let you get to sleep!"
Sighing, he crouched up beneath the portrait, knowing the Fat Lady wasn't going to be roused this time. He was just drifting off when. . .
Creak.
Neville's eyes snapped open and he looked rigidly around. He saw no one - or anything - in the empty corridors. He sighed nervously, hoping to put himself at ease.
CREEEEAAAAK!
Neville shrieked and sat up suddenly. He saw a suit of armour walking with painful slowness down the corridor. Completely losing his head he began to run blindly down the hall, screaming. He kept running and running until finally, he hit the railing of the winding marble staircase. Doubling over the railing in pain, he fell head first down, down, down. . .
He hit the ground floor head first, his skull crushing on impact. He briefly felt pain blossom in his head, but soon felt no more. . .
Slowly, the suit of armour went past the portrait hole and down the corridor, not even pausing to look down. If it had, it would have seen a sprawled body never to rise once more. The night passed by and finally Neville's body was found by students.
When the Gryffindors came down, they were filled with sadness and shock. They would never forget how his blank eyes stared up at them in frozen terror, how his mouth drooped open in surprise. It looked as though his spirit had left him on the wings of an owl.
And they knew at once. What you don't know CAN kill you.
Neville Longbottom had been outside the Gryffindor portrait hole for hours, trying to remember what the password was. The Fat Lady was no help, snoozing off occasionally or giggling,
"Can't you remember? *hic* It's a simple as. . ."
A snore signalled that the Fat Lady was fast asleep, no doubt a result of too much Christmas liquor. Neville had gotten stuck on a moving staircase after the Christmas feast and had come back late, so there was no one to help him remember.
"Please!" Begged Neville, "I'll let you get to sleep!"
Sighing, he crouched up beneath the portrait, knowing the Fat Lady wasn't going to be roused this time. He was just drifting off when. . .
Creak.
Neville's eyes snapped open and he looked rigidly around. He saw no one - or anything - in the empty corridors. He sighed nervously, hoping to put himself at ease.
CREEEEAAAAK!
Neville shrieked and sat up suddenly. He saw a suit of armour walking with painful slowness down the corridor. Completely losing his head he began to run blindly down the hall, screaming. He kept running and running until finally, he hit the railing of the winding marble staircase. Doubling over the railing in pain, he fell head first down, down, down. . .
He hit the ground floor head first, his skull crushing on impact. He briefly felt pain blossom in his head, but soon felt no more. . .
Slowly, the suit of armour went past the portrait hole and down the corridor, not even pausing to look down. If it had, it would have seen a sprawled body never to rise once more. The night passed by and finally Neville's body was found by students.
When the Gryffindors came down, they were filled with sadness and shock. They would never forget how his blank eyes stared up at them in frozen terror, how his mouth drooped open in surprise. It looked as though his spirit had left him on the wings of an owl.
And they knew at once. What you don't know CAN kill you.