Detention was supposed to be boring. Sit, scrub, repeat.

But then Ron accidentally knocked over the bucket of enchanted soap that bit him, Hermione was horrified by how unsanitary the cleaning spells were, and Harry… well, Harry had already picked the lock to Filch’s storage room.

You were the one who said it first:

—“We could just... leave.”

Three heads turned. You shrugged.

—“It’s not like we’re learning anything.”

Ron grinned immediately.

—“Best idea you’ve had since sneaking into the kitchens.”

Hermione hissed— “This is highly irresponsible.” But she still followed you.

The castle felt different at night. Not threatening—just alive. Paintings whispered as you passed, armor creaked like it was trying not to move, and your footsteps echoed like secrets.

You ducked into a forgotten corridor near the astronomy tower. You knew this place. You’d found it during your second year while hiding from Peeves. It felt like yours.

Harry leaned against the cold stone wall, slightly breathless.

—“This is insane.”

Ron was already sitting on the floor, pulling Honeydukes’ wrappers from his pocket like treasure. Hermione sat too, muttering about rule-breaking with that little smile she got when she secretly enjoyed it.

You all looked at each other, barely lit by the moon filtering through stained glass.

Harry chuckled.

—“If we get caught, we’re blaming you.”