The two returned to the castle the way they had come. As soon as they reached the third floor, George and Fred prepared to take a shortcut back to the Gryffindor common room.
Before emerging from the secret passage, they had already determined their route and repeatedly confirmed that their number one "enemy" for night prowling was still resting in his room.
"Ah, ah…"
Seeing George about to sneeze, Fred quickly reached out and covered his brother's mouth to prevent a loud noise.
"It's nothing, my nose is just a bit itchy." George rubbed his nose and stifled a yawn. He was starting to miss his soft bed.
"You might have caught a cold!" Fred looked at his twin sympathetically. "Let's go back!"
The two walked along the stairs to the fifth floor, preparing to go directly to the eighth floor through a secret passage.
"Meow."
An unfamiliar sound.
Fred froze. He raised his wand and probed forward. A dark shadow emerged from the corner. The two focused and saw that it was none other than Filch's cat, Madam Norris.
The cat spotted them, turned, and ran away.
Fred and George looked at each other, then suddenly burst into laughter. They both knew what the cat was going to do—Filch would soon be searching the entire castle for them.
But the twins didn't care. By then, they expected to be safely back in their common room.
The thought of Filch, sniffling with his cold and fussing around in the middle of the night, made them feel positively gleeful.
"Let's go, I want to sleep soon." George yawned again and again.
The two arrived on the eighth floor through the secret passage, passed through the dark and silent Gryffindor hallway, and stopped in front of the Fat Lady's portrait.
But the painting was empty. Their cheerful mood plummeted.
The Fat Lady had gone out visiting in the middle of the night.
At that moment, Fred and George realized they were locked out of the Gryffindor common room.
"What should we do?" Fred's expression darkened. They didn't know when the Fat Lady would return, and Filch was already awake. He and his cat were on their way to the fifth floor, moving faster than the twins had anticipated by using a shortcut.
"Albert really has a big mouth," George muttered helplessly. "I don't want to spend the night here; I'd definitely catch a cold. How about we find a place to rest first?"
Find a place to rest?
Compared to risking bumping into Filch, waiting somewhere safe until the Fat Lady returned seemed far more sensible.
Where could they stay?
The answer was the secret passages.
There were several on the eighth floor, but Fred wasn't sure which ones Filch knew. On the Marauder's Map, they saw Filch had already reached the fifth floor via a passage and was beginning to search for students out at night.
"Let Filch search!" George pouted.
"Still, be careful, lest we get caught," Fred reminded him.
He didn't want to be caught at all. Once caught, the outcome would be grim—not only facing Filch's annoying glare, but also Professor McGonagall and Percy. After losing a heap of points, the Gryffindor students would never forgive them.
Now, they could only hope Filch would give up his search soon, and that the Fat Lady would return quickly.
On the fifth floor, in the portrait hallway, Filch was patrolling with his oil lamp. His mood was foul. He had caught a cold that day, his head was dizzy, and he hadn't managed a proper night's rest.
Nothing. Nothing. Still nothing.
Filch swept his lamp through an abandoned classroom, straining his ears for the slightest sound. Madam Norris prowled elsewhere, helping him search, but they hadn't caught any students out of bed, nor heard any movement.
"Did they run away?" Filch muttered. "No, that's impossible!"
From Madam Norris's alert to his arrival had only taken minutes. Those brats couldn't have vanished so quickly.
"They can't have gone far. I'll catch them!" Filch told himself. No one knew the castle's secret passages better than him. No one could escape his grasp.
But Filch didn't know his every move was visible to the twins. They watched the inkblot symbolizing him on the Marauder's Map, tracking his progress through the passages, and saw Madam Norris split off to search separately.
"Filch really is familiar with the castle's passages. It must be hard for ordinary students not to get caught," George sighed.
"Now's not the time for that. We can't stay here—Filch might know this passage. We need to hide somewhere he doesn't," Fred said quickly, realizing their predicament.
"Why don't we check if the Fat Lady's back?" George suggested. If they could enter the common room, they'd be safe.
"Let's go," Fred agreed.
They left the passage and returned to the portrait, but the Fat Lady still hadn't returned.
"We must go. If Filch searches the eighth floor, we won't be able to hide. Let's try the Knight's Armor passage on the seventh floor. I doubt Filch knows that one. If we hide there, he'll never find us."
But Madam Norris was patrolling the seventh floor, and they risked being caught.
The twins planned to use the Hippogriff painting's passage on the eighth floor to reach another level, but saw Filch was already coming toward them along that very route.
"Run!" Fred whispered, quickening his pace. By the time they reached the seventh floor via the stairs, Filch had already emerged from the Hippogriff painting and immediately heard the sounds of running.
"I found you! Don't think you can get away!" Filch growled. He held his lamp high and charged forward. Madam Norris darted ahead to lead him straight to the culprits.
"No, Filch is coming this way!" Fred didn't dare open the Knight's Armor statue. Filch was moving too fast. If the passage couldn't be closed in time, he would discover it.
That was the last thing they wanted.
Besides, they had the Marauder's Map. They could run circles around Filch in the castle.
To be caught?
To see his movements clearly on the map and still be caught?
Impossible.
At that moment, George suddenly sneezed. The sound echoed down the hallway, immediately drawing Filch's attention.
"Hurry, Filch is coming this way!" Fred shot George a speechless look and urged him forward.
"What do we do now?" George panted as he caught up.
"What else can we do?" Fred shrugged helplessly. "He chases, we run."
And so, the game of cat and mouse officially began.