"Wait, which way are we going?" asked Hermione breathlessly.
"Oh -somewhere - we'll run into Filch soon enough," said Ron
"Or someone else critical to plot development," said Harry, as they ran past an old-looking urn with blue night flowers springing forth.
"Right."
"No running in the hall," called a lazy prefect who did not bother to look up from his Lemony Snicket book.
"This way," cried Hermione and darted down a corridor in the opposite direction of the prefect.
As they neared yet another hallway they could hear voices. "Freeze!" whispered Ron, and they huddled against the wall. "There we go - someone's plotting now!" they listened wide-eyed to the voices coming from around the corner.
"I say now - same old clouds day in, day out.." complained a proper sounding British patriach.
"Oh stop your complaining, they're lovely."
"Damned plain enough to put a shrub to sleep, I tell you!"
"Funny they never do put you to sleep, you're always bickering, you two" added a third voice.
By now Harry and Ron were frowning in utmost consternation. Hermione sighed and pulled them into the hallway. "Look now this is what Dumbledore gets for hanging Constable landscapes around the place!" she complained, and she pointed to the source of the voices: a painting that featured bushes overlooking a valley in sunset.
"Oh well.. that's .. nice" Ron said, scratching his head.
"Come on, we've got to find Filch and get to the bottom of this mystery!" cried Harry and he pulled them further down the hall where there seemed to be significantly less light. Within a few moments they were out of breath and had to slow down.
"Funny, I've never seen this part of the castle before," breathed Ron, pointing at stone walls which had taken on a distinctively orange tone.
"If you had read Hogwarts, a History you would know that new sections of the school keep materializing in order to provide interesting changes of scene and new clues," said Hermione primly.
"Hey, you've gotten quiet, Harry.." Ron said. He turned to Harry, who was now trailing behind him and Hermione.
"Just thinking," answered Harry, his eyes cast downward. "You don't know how these dark and morbid corridors make me shudder - not for the bone-chilling cold; no, I am far too used to that - but rather with the innermost despair that not even the deepest warmth nor the brightest love could touch--"
"Harry!" yelled Ron.
"Hm?" he looked up, his eyes now lifeless and dull. Shapeless shadows ominously drifted across the walls behind him.
"You are having a moment of ANGST - don't DO that now, get a hold of yourself!"
"'Moment of Angst?' Sounds like a moment of 19th Century Gothic Novella to me," grumbled Hermione.
"Sorry," said Harry, straightening himself. "Let's find Filch."
After more wanderings, which included their encounters with Peeves the Poltergeist and a frisky oriental rug that they had never seen before, Harry, Hermione and Ron finally came across Filch. He was standing in an open area in front of a large mirror, clutching his beloved Mrs. Norris and muttering quietly.
"Shh - what's he saying?" whispered Ron, as they crept closer.
"Da dad.. doy.. was deaten.." They could see Filch grimacing in the mirror.
"Some kind of incantation?" ventured Hermione.
"Ventriloquism," said Harry, his eyes narrowing. "It is indeed a dark art."
"He must be practicing for when Mrs. Norris dies," added Ron with a chuckle.
"Ron, that's mean!" said Hermione. Harry was about to silence his companions, but too late. Filch turned around menacingly.
"What are you three doing now!?" he approached. Mrs. Norris turned her ears back in distaste.
"Er, uh - what were we going to do now that we found him?" Ron whispered in the direction of Harry.
"Mr. Filch," said Harry, as he stepped forward in heroic manner. "We wanted to ask you if you had … found Hermione's notebook."
Filch frowned and considered. "No."
The three students waited.
"NOW GET BACK TO BED! We ought to institute a six o'clock curfew.. can't do anything in peace around here," Filch grumbled.
"What - is that it?" asked Harry, confused.
"And do you want detention too?! I haven't seen any notebooks!" Filch turned back to the mirror as the students ran off.
"Maybe Filch wasn't the best answer," said Hermione once they had reached safer corridors.
"No, Hermione, I think it was the best answer, just… maybe not the right answer," said Harry consolingly.
"I still like my Snape answer," offered Ron, then he added for good measure, "he's such a greasy old git."
"Yes, he is," said Harry automatically. He scowled and began to ponder (fruitlessly) the possible reasons for Snape's apparent hatred.
"Well, I'm sure if we take this next left Hogwarts will conveniently produce a staircase leading us straight to his office!" said Hermione.
"Right, then we can send someone in to seduce him and steal the notebook back!" said Harry, in good spirits once again.
"HARRY!!"
"That wasn't necessarily a moment of Slash!" he protested.
"Yes, it was," snapped Hermione. They took the next left.