Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling. If I was, this would be a book that you had paid to read, not a story posted on a fanfiction site. Are you paying to read this? No. This is because I do not own the world of Harry Potter, nor do I expect to make profit out of something that isn't mine.

Author's Note: Here's the next chapter. For those of you who have read the original "Core of Power' fic, you'll notice that there's a little something extra in there. This chappie can be seen on SIYE, but the computer was being mean when I tried to update it the last time - that or I just forgot about it. I only realised it wasn't on the site when I received numerous reviews, both positive and negative, about leaving out the Sorting. Oops. Well, now it's here, so I hope you like!

One - Beginning School

One-and-a-half hours later, Harry and Ron sat playing a game of Exploding Snap (Ron's idea — and Ron's cards too, for that matter) and munching on a bunch of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and Chocolate Frogs (Harry's idea, and Harry's money too — Ron had protested quite profoundly at this, so it had taken a while to convince him) among other wizarding snacks. Ginny was quite happy about this arrangement — she was currently at the weeping-tree, concentrating on him and therefore able to taste the food through him. They (Harry and Ron) were really getting into the game, and Harry also had more of a chance at beating Ron due to Ginny's constant providing of strategies and techniques, when…

"Will you have a look at this," drawled a familiar voice. Malfoy, an annoying and incessant boy who Harry had met at Madam Malkin's robe shop, now stood at the entrance to the compartment. "Why didn't you tell me you were Harry Potter?" Malfoy asked, sneering. This was directed at Harry, of course. When Malfoy and he had met at the robe store, Malfoy had asked a rather stupid and arrogant question; 'Your parents are our kind, aren't they?' Harry had been annoyed and offended at this — Ginny had told Harry about the mindless prejudice that 'pure-bloods' as they deemed themselves held against Muggles. Harry had been about to snap an angry retort at him when Ginny had told him, rather cleverly, to say; 'They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean.' This way Malfoy had no idea that Harry's mother had been a Muggleborn, making him a half-blood — Malfoy had (had being the key word, of course) been put under the impression that Harry was a pureblood. Bye-bye impressions, Harry thought bitterly.

One angry conversation with Malfoy involving one of his 'friends' (more like cronies) and a rather sharp-toothed rat (Ron's, who went by the name of Scabbers) later, Harry and Ron were talking to a worried boy named Neville and another girl who appeared to be his friend, Hermione. Neville was worried, it seemed, because his toad, Trevor, was missing.

"You'll find him, don't worry," said Harry sympathetically.

The hours on the train whizzed by before Harry and Ron (and Ginny) knew it. Before too long, they had arrived at Hogsmeade Station — they were almost there. And then…

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" called a… Harry's first thought was a giant, but straight after that Ginny dismissed it, saying, Hagrid's not a giant. Giants are at least twenty feet tall.

Hagrid? asked Harry. Who's… oh! That man. Forget I said anything.

That's not likely, said Ginny with a snort. I will hold you to your word on anything and everything, mister.

Hagrid turned out to be quite nice, if a bit roguish when it came to animals, and told them to get into boats on the side of the lake in groups of four. Hermione and Neville joined the boat in which Harry and Ron had gotten into, and off they sailed.

The first glimpse of Hogwarts was truly magnificent. Ginny, who was looking through his eyes, gave a muffled sort of squeal and fell silent — the first sign of behavior that betrayed her otherwise tomboyish nature. Harry stared at the magnificent, magnanimous white stone that rose in turrets, gleaming in the light of the glistening full moon. He couldn't — simply couldn't — take his eyes off of it. It really was beautiful.

Nothing much else happened from then on in during the boat trip. When they got off, however, Neville found his toad; ("Trevor!"), and then…

A tall, magnificent set of elegant double doors swung open, with an irate, stern-looking woman looking down at them from the newly revealed steps. The woman revealed her name to be Professor McGonagall. Harry half-listened as she droned on about the four Houses — Ginny had told him all about them in one of their many mind-conversations — but became considerably more attentive when McGonagall led them through the Entrance Hall (Harry only knew what it was called because Ginny told him) and into the Great Hall (again, Ginny informed him of its name).

Four long trestle tables lined the magnificent (magnificent was a word Harry was beginning to associate with this castle — everything was magnificent) hall vertically. Several raised steps led onto a platform on the opposite side of the hall, upon which another trestle table, this one horizontal, was mounted. This was obviously the table for the staff.

The ceiling, charmed to look like the sky outside, reflected the star-strewn night. Candles floating in the midst of this sky illuminated the room. The left two tables formed a narrow aisle, as did the right two tables, but the widest aisle was between the middle two tables. At the top of this aisle was where all the nervous first-years congregated as they waited for instructions as to what to do.

Harry (and Hermione, it seemed) were the only two first years who noticed the three-legged stool on which a tattered hat sat. Did that have something to do with the Sorting?

Apparently it did, because:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can top them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart.
You might belong in Hufflepuff
Where they are just and loyal,
These patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil.
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw
If you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning
Will always find their kind.
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

Harry's nerves mounted with every word the Sorting Hat sung. What if I don't get Sorted? he asked Ginny nervously.

Of course you'll get Sorted, Ginny said soothingly. Everyone worries about whether they'll get Sorted or not, although some don't admit it. There isn't a Sorting recorded where someone couldn't be Housed. You'll be fine.

His nerves somewhat assuaged, Harry glanced around the rest of the room. All the other first-years didn't have someone like Ginny in their heads, and it showed by the nervous glances they were all casting around the Hall.

At that moment (and after allowing for the bout of applause, courtesy of the older students) Professor McGonagall began calling out the names of the first-years, in alphabetical order. Harry didn't pay much attention, other than noticing both Hermione, whose last name was Granger, and Neville, whose last name was Longbottom, both became Gryffindors. He also noticed that Malfoy (whose first name was Draco) and his two 'friends', Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, all became Slytherins. And then…

"Potter, Harry!" cried Professor McGonagall loudly. Ignoring the whispers that broke out throughout the Hall, Harry clambered nervously up the steps, pulling the hat over his head and sitting down rather roughly on the three-legged stool.

'Ah', said a voice in his head. 'Harry Potter'.

Harry jumped. He hadn't expected the hat to talk to him — that was Ginny's department!

The Hat continued, clearly oblivious to Harry's discomfort. 'But what's this?' it said, this time sounding genuinely curious. 'Harry Potter has another half? Ah, you are full of mysteries, my boy… come out, come out, other half…'

Other half? Harry thought, confused. What other half?

The Sorting Hat made a sound that was clearly a laugh. Why, I believe her name is Ginevra. Come out, come out, Ginevra!

Harry gasped, and then Ginny said, Um… hi, Sorting Hat. Harry swallowed a laugh with difficulty.

'Now that I have you both here, I can sort you', the Hat announced. 'Now, let's see here… Lots of courage, yes, that you both have… And a nice thirst to prove yourselves that you both share also… Both of you have a ready mind and undeniable skill… There's loyalty, oh yes… And the mark of Voldemort…' at this, both Harry and Ginny gasped. 'Yes… that mark is Mr. Potter's, but your bond of the soul carries that over to Ms. Weasley as well… But will you look at this! You could go into all four houses! Never before have I come across anyone so like the two of you… A soul bond and a choice, all at once! I'll be looking out for you two…' Ginny gasped. But… but no-one has a choice!
'And yet you do', said the Sorting Hat tiredly. 'Well, what'll it be, then?'

Harry and Ginny were silent. Then…

Harry, can we go into Gryffindor? It's just, all the Weasleys do normally and I know Mum and Dad'll be proud.
That was Ginny.

Okay, said Harry. I don't really have a preference anyway… Um, Sorting Hat? We... we choose Gryffindor.

Harry could actually feel the Sorting Hat smile as it yelled, "Gryffindor!" for the whole Hall to hear.

Well, that was confusing,
said Ginny tiredly. I've got to go back and have dinner now, so… I probably won't get to talk.

The rest of the Sorting was pretty boring, in Harry's opinion. Ron got Sorted into Gryffindor, but other than that…

The rest of the night was pretty boring too. Harry would have found the Welcoming Feast phenomenal had he not gotten used to Mrs. Weasley's delicious lunches, but gotten used to them he had, and though the meal was certainly scrumptious, it was not that much better than Mrs. Weasley's cooking.

After having stuffed himself to the brim, Harry and the rest of the first-year Gryffindors followed Ginny's brother Percy, who was apparently a Prefect, up to the Gryffindor common room.

The common room, hidden from intruders by a portrait of a Fat Lady who required a password (the current one being Caput Draconis), was quite a decorative haven. Tapestries of lions hung from the walls, which surrounded plush, red-and-gold embroidered armchairs that were clustered and grouped around fireplaces that crackled merrily with flames. Harry, however, barely noticed all this as he ascended one of two staircases. The one he climbed led to the boys' dormitories, whereas the other led to the girls'.

The dormitory that Harry, Ron, Neville, and the two other male Gryffindor first-years (Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas) would share was fairly plain, but homely all the same. Five four-poster beds with each boy's trunk set out at the foot of the bed that was their own were arranged at the sides of the room — two on either side wall and one on the wall directly in front. Harry didn't clearly notice any of this detail either as he and the four other boys climbed into bed (Harry and Ron on the beds towards the left, Seamus and Dean on the beds to the right, and Neville on the bed out front). Barely able to muster a 'Goodnight, Ginny', Harry fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

-- -- --

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was truly an extraordinary place – Harry discovered this within the first very few days. His first class was Transfiguration, and Harry learned straight away that magic definitely wasn't as easy as it looked.

"Transfiguration is a very complex and dangerous branch of magic," announced Professor McGonagall sternly once everyone was in their seats. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

She then showed the class something rather interesting – she changed her desk into a pig and back again. (Cool! Ginny had exclaimed when she did this).

However, Professor McGonagall soon made it clear that they would not under any circumstances be doing magic anywhere near as complicated as that for a very long time and, in her book, it would be unwise to try. She first set the class to copying a lot of long and complex notes before telling them to try and turn a match into a needle.

Harry stared at the match, desperately trying the incantation (Matchius Transformus), but the match rather stubbornly stayed a match. Try willing the match to turn into a needle first, Ginny advised. Visualize it changing in your head. Then cast the spell.

Harry did as she said – and it worked! Well, sort of, anyway. The needle was still rather blunt and was missing the loop, but it was definitely silvery and metallic! The only person who accomplished as much as he did was Hermione.

Charms was the second class they had. Professor Flitwick, the teacher, was so small that he had to stand on top of a stack of books to see over his desk. He, too, set them too copying down some complex notes before allowing them to try a practical spell (Wingardium Leviosa, which was a levitating charm – they had to attempt to levitate a feather). Harry only succeeded in lifting the feather four inches (with the help and guidance of Ginny) whereas Hermione levitated hers two whole metres. (The rest of the class failed miserably).

The class that was by far the most boring was History of Magic – the teacher, Professor Binns, was the only ghost teacher at Hogwarts, but the only grain of excitement in his class was him floating through the blackboard as an entrance. The rest of the class was so boring that half the students fell asleep. Binns droned on about things that had the potential to be exciting, but instantly turned boring when he said them.

These two classes, along with Defense Against the Dark Arts, were supposed to be the only three classes where you performed practical magic – Professor Quirrell, the DADA teacher, seemed to be a bit of a joke. Quirrell wore a strange purple turban around his head, and that, along with the entire classroom, smelled strongly of garlic. Quirrell also seemed to have a strange sort of stutter whenever he even mentioned anything even remotely dark. The class often joked that the classroom had a layer of garlic on everything and the turban was stuffed full of garlic to ward off vampires.

Astronomy, the class where you studied the stars, was another class. It was held on Wednesdays at the stroke of midnight, and you had to peer through telescopes to identify the positions of stars.

Herbology was the study of plants. It was held three times a week in one of the three side-by-side greenhouses out on the school grounds. Professor Sprout, the dumpy little witch who was their teacher, taught them all about strange magical plants and fungi.

But by far Harry's least favourite class was Potions. And it had nothing to do with the subject.

It was the teacher, Professor Snape. He, for no seemingly apparent reason, hated Harry.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of Potion-making," he began the class with. After droning on for what seemed like hours, he then proceeded to take the register.

"Ah… Harry Potter," said Snape once he got to Harry's name. "Our new… celebrity." The Slytherins in the class all sniggered.

"Potter!" Snape suddenly snapped. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? Harry thought. On the other end of his mind-link, he could hear Ginny, who was making some sort of pie with her mother, asking Mrs. Weasley the question. A moment later she said, The Draught of Living Death.

"You would get the Draught of Living Death, sir," said Harry.

Looking annoyed, the greasy-haired teacher sneered, "And where would you look if I asked you to find a bezoar?"

Again, Harry repeated the question to Ginny, who replied with, In the stomach of a goat. A bezoar is an antidote to most poisons.

Harry repeated this to Snape as politely as he could, who shot back with, "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

This time, when Harry answered with, "They are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite," Snape looked livid.

"You cheat!" he cried. "One point from Gryffindor!"

Ginny had a lot to say about this, but the number of creative insults she came up with did nothing to assuage Harry's anger. That's totally unfair! Harry thought, over the top of, Greasy, smelly git! Go get some shampoo!

Snape then set the class to brewing a simple potion to cure boils. They had to work in pairs, so Harry and Ron set up a cauldron beside Neville and Seamus. Then, halfway into the class…

"Ouch!" cried Neville. Somehow, he had managed to twist the cauldron that he and Seamus were using into a hissing blob, and the potion was now seeping along the floor. People jumped up on chairs and tables to avoid the flow, but Neville, who had been standing right in the cauldron's line of fire, caught a faceful of the potion. Angry red boils popped up on his face.

"Idiot boy!" Snape snapped. "Didn't I tell you all not to add the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?" And then, after he had sent Neville, with Seamus escorting him, off to the hospital wing in disgrace, he rounded on Harry and Ron.

"Why didn't you two stop him? Another point from Gryffindor!" the greasy git snapped. Harry opened his mouth in horror to argue, but Ginny gave him the equivalent of a mental kick, saying, You'll only get into even more trouble if you try to rebuttal him!

As the class filed out of the dungeons (the Gryffindors miserably and the Slytherins gleefully), Ron said, "Cheer up, mate! Snape's taken off loads more than two points of Fred and George!"

At lunch Harry received a note from Hagrid, whom he had gotten to know quite well at Hogsmeade Station, asking if they (Harry and Ron) would join him for afternoon tea. Harry borrowed a quill of Ron's to scribble his affirmative answer, and the two walked cheerfully down to Hagrid's.

After a chat with Hagrid that revealed a suspicious-looking article about a Gringotts (wizarding bank) break-in), Harry 'escaped' from Ron and the other Gryffindors during the rest of their free period to take a detour to the library. Why? Because he and Ginny wanted to look up more about their 'mind-link' (or soul bond, as the Sorting Hat put it).

Where do I look? asked Harry blankly. The library's so big.

Try asking the librarian, Ginny suggested helpfully. Make sure to act inconspicuously, though – we don't want anyone suspecting anything! Harry agreed fervently with that.

"Um, excuse me?" Harry asked the scary-looking librarian. "Do you… do you have a categorizing system or something?"

Good idea, Ginny approved.

Madam Pince glared at him. "Yes," she said finally. "Over there." She pointed to the place she referred to.

After looking at the categorizing system carefully, Harry discovered the books he was looking for in an auspicious-looking, dark, dusty corner of the book haven. It was straight out of a movie, but Harry supposed that the books he was looking for would be dusty and in a dark corner, because people would rarely look at them. Harry selected a few informative-looking books that had the most specific tiles and walked over to a deserted armchair where he wasn't likely to be disturbed.

Okay, he said. Here's the first one – 'Soul Bonds and Other Relevant Information'. He flicked through the fragile pages, looking for something that might be helpful.

Aha! he thought. Here we go. Ginny, read through my eyes.

Alright, she said. What've you found, then?

19: Soul Bonds

Soul bonds, or soul links as they are more like, are incredibly rare. These are where true soul mates discover their bond, and its rarity is due to the fact that soul mates, though everybody has one, can live on opposite sides of the world, can be between Muggles and magical folk alike, and most people never meet their soul mate. A soul bond occurs when soul mates experience skin-to-skin physical contact. A soul bond involves the option of sharing dreams, the ability to communicate through the mind, feeling the others' senses and emotions, sharing all physical and magical skills, etc. A soul bond between a Muggle and a witch/wizard can even give that Muggle magical prowess, the same going for a Squib. During the first two to three years of the bond, a soul-bonded pair can be separated for up to twelve months without harm, but either after this time period or if something traumatic affects the pair, they must stay close without separating for more than two hours then they fall ill physically as well as mentally and emotionally. After one to four years (depending on the age of the soul mates, the older the longer) of this time period, which is deemed the 'second stage' of the bond, this need will disappear. If the 'other half' as it is deemed of a soul-bonded pair dies, it is said that the living 'half' cannot bear life anymore. The longest known 'life-before-suicide' after the death of a soul-bonded person's other half is 26 hours. If the bond is strong enough, it can even cause instantaneous death.

Another side-effect of a soul-bond is immediate legal marriage. Marriage through soul-bonding instantly cancels out any previous betrothals. As underage marriage causes instant removal of the Trace as well as instant rewarding of all of-age privileges, a soul-bond would, it is assumed, cause this as well, but there are no underage soul-bonds recorded (at least before this book is published) to go by on that.

Wow, Harry thought finally. Um, Ginny?

Yeah? she asked.

You were reading that, weren't you?

Yes, Ginny answered.

Then you do realize that this means technically we're married, don't you? Harry said.

There was a silence on the other end of the soul bond. Then –

A stream of disbelieving curses shot through the bond, and Ginny replied, Um… no offence to you or anything, but… Married? At the age of ten? You have got to be joking.

Nope, said Harry. Read it yourself. He looked directly down at the book so that she could read it for herself, and felt his eyes wobble awkwardly as she moved her eyes while he didn't.

-- -- --

Saturday was the day that marked the first flying lesson for the Gryffindors and the Slytherins. It was also, while Harry didn't know it at the time, the day that would mark his first two one-ups on Malfoy.

At breakfast that morning Hermione was trying desperately to find something in a library book – Quidditch through the Ages – that would help her have more luck on a broom. Quidditch wasn't something you could learn from a book, which was Hermione's specialty, so the only one who listened to her spouting out facts about broom inventions and flying strategies was Neville, who hung onto her every word, desperate for something to help him hang onto his broomstick later. As Hermione read excerpts of the Quidditch book to him, a parcel arrived for Neville.

"It's a Remembrall!" announced Neville of the little glass ball inside the parcel. "It glows red if you've forgotten something." He paused, watching the ball glow red. "I can't remember what I've forgotten."

At ten o'clock precisely, all the Gryffindor and Slytherin first-years filed out of the doors to the Entrance Hall and onto the Quidditch Pitch out on the grounds. Madam Hooch, the grey-haired Quidditch teacher/referee, stood waiting for them all with two rows of neatly laid-out broomsticks evenly spaced out in the middle of the pitch. She stood directly between the two rows of broomsticks.

"Well, come on, hurry up," she said. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. What are you waiting for?" There was a scramble as everyone tried to do as Madam Hooch said.

Harry glanced down at his broomstick. It was old and battered-looking, with the twigs at the bottom sticking out in all directions. Fred and George said that all the school broomsticks are really crappy, Ginny informed him. They said that they all fly towards the left a bit or start to vibrate if you get too high. Fred even thinks they're charmed to do the latter. Then again, they could be joking. Fred and George are always pranking people.

"Alright, everyone got a broom? Now, stick your wand hand over the broomstick and say, 'Up'.

"Up!" the class shouted.

Harry's broomstick jumped into his hand at once, but nobody else's, not even Malfoy's (who had claimed he was a flying champion) did. Hermione's simply rolled over on the ground, Neville's didn't move at all, and Malfoy's flew up past his hand to hit him on the face.

"Tut, tut," tutted Madam Hooch as she walked around, correcting people's grips and showing them how to mount them properly. "Now, on my count of three, everybody push off together, rise two feet off the ground and come straight back down. Three… two…"

But Neville, jumpy, frightened and worried of being left behind, pushed off one count before Madam Hooch's whistle. A horrified look on his face, Neville shot upwards like a cork out of a bottle, twelve feet… twenty feet…

"Come back down, boy!" shrieked Madam Hooch.

And it was only then that Neville came down… but it was without his broomstick that he did. He shot forward, over the front of his broomstick, and landed with an almighty thud and an ominous crack on the rippling grass.

Madam Hooch rushed to his side straight away, steering him towards the castle doors. "Poor boy… a broken wrist… we'll have to take you up to the hospital wing." Then, over her shoulder she called, "If I catch any one of you off the ground, you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'."

It was only when Madam Hooch was far from the scene that Malfoy had the courage to walk over to where Neville had fallen and pick something up from the ground.

"Oh look," he drawled. "It's Longbottom's Remembrall." He sniggered, the other Slytherins joining in.

"I'll just go and hide it from him," Malfoy continued, smirking. "How about… up a tree?"

"Give it here, Malfoy," Harry spat.

Malfoy smirked, obviously pleased that he had annoyed him. "Or maybe on the roof," he said lazily.

"I said, give it here," Harry snapped, angry now. He threw a leg over his broomstick when –

"No, Harry! You heard what Madam Hooch said, you'll get expelled!"

Two voices, both female, spoke at the one time. Ginny and Hermione. One spoke out loud and the other spoke in his head. But for once, Harry ignored not only Hermione but Ginny too (though quite rebelliously) as he kicked off from the ground.

It was extraordinary. The wind in his hair, the feeling of freedom as he soared towards the sky. Turning towards Malfoy in mid-air, Harry accelerated suddenly and shot sharply towards him like a bullet.

Malfoy looked startled at Harry's flying prowess. Seeing this, Harry decided to play upon it and said once again, "Give it here, Malfoy." He spoke in a calm yet persuasive voice.

Malfoy still didn't look convinced, so Harry said slyly, "No Crabbe and Goyle to save your skin up here."

The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy, who said decisively, "Well, if you want it, go get it, then." And he threw the little glass ball in the opposite direction.

Harry watched the Remembrall's rise and fall as if in slow motion. Then, all of a sudden, he shot straight towards the little glass ball as it fell towards the ground.

Harry's eyes were fixed so intently on the Remembrall that he didn't notice as he shot past one of the school windows, out of which McGonagall watched intently. But Ginny did. He sank forward into a flawless dive, chasing towards that little glass ball, snatching it out of the air as he swooped up barely an inch from the ground, landing flawlessly upon the glossy green pitch without so much as a scratch.

Cheers broke out amongst the Gryffindors, completely drowning out the booing of the Slytherins, who were led by Malfoy. Harry, however, wasn't listening to them as Ginny screeched, McGonagall's coming!

Harry didn't have the time to try and hide himself as the irate teacher strode across the lawns, yelling, "Potter!"

The cheers and boos were silenced at once. "Come with me," the Professor said to Harry, leading him away from his stricken-looking classmates.

You're done for now, said Ginny sympathetically. Harry could not help it but to agree with her.

Professor McGonagall led Harry up numerous staircases and through numerous corridors that he was beginning to lose track of when she halted suddenly in front of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

"Excuse me, but can I borrow Wood for a moment please?" she asked Professor Quirrell.

Oh, no way, said Ginny.

What? Harry asked her worriedly. Is Wood some sort of cane?

No, Ginny answered, sounding awed. Wood's the –

But she didn't get a chance to finish, because at that moment Harry saw for himself what – or who – Wood was.

Wood was a burly-looking fifth-year boy… a boy who wore the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain badge on his robes.

"Wood," said McGonagall formally. "I have found you a Seeker."

Oh, that is too cool, Ginny said, still in that awed voice. They never make first-years anything on Quidditch teams, let alone Seekers!

Harry was just recounting his more-than-lucky scrape to Ron when Malfoy and his two cronies walked past the Gryffindor table, despite the fact that they didn't need to to get to their table. Malfoy looked a lot more confident now that he was back on the ground with his two bodyguards beside him, and had regained his arrogant swagger.

The look on Malfoy's face was priceless as he took in the fact that Harry had not been expelled and was eating rather normally at his House table as if nothing had happened. Livid, he stalked towards Harry and Ron and said, "Having your last meal here, are you Potter?"

Harry smirked, reflecting the sneer on Malfoy's face with all the skill of a mirror. "You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you." Of course, there was nothing little about Crabbe and Goyle, but with a table full of teachers right behind them they could do nothing but scowl, crack their knuckles and move a little closer to Malfoy.

"I can take you on any time on my own, Potter," spat Malfoy. "Tonight, down at the trophy room. Wizard's duel." He smirked.

"Fine," Harry returned. "See you there."

As soon as Malfoy had turned his back, however, Ginny said in his head, Don't go, Harry. I'll bet you anything it's a trap. Malfoy's more likely to tell Filch than to turn up with you as his adversary – he's seen how good you are in classes. Harry grinned to himself. That good, am I? he asked Ginny. His own cheeks warmed and coloured at her resulting blush.

"Excuse me," said Hermione. "I couldn't help but overhear what you were saying-"

"Bet you could," muttered Ron.

"-and you mustn't go wandering around the corridors at night, what if you get caught? You'll lose all the points I got for knowing about Switching Spells." Hermione looked defiantly at Ron – it was quite clear that she had heard his comment, and that her way of retaliation was to outline the fact that she was more successful in classes than he was.

Spotting the brewing battle between Ron and Hermione, Harry decided to intervene before things got messy. "Of course we're not going," he said, to Ron's obvious chagrin. "Malfoy is more likely to tell Filch than to actually turn up."

Hermione looked at Harry approvingly. "Good," she said, smiling. As soon as she was out of earshot, Ron rounded on Harry and said, "You only said that to get her off our backs, didn't you?" He sounded almost accusing.

"No," said Harry. "What I said was the truth – if Malfoy isn't tipping off Filch right now then I'm a dragon."

The next morning at breakfast, Malfoy looked again livid at the fact that Harry was still at school. "See?" Harry asked Ron thickly through a mouthful of sausage. "The look on his face is enough proof that he was expecting us to be long gone."

"Genius, mate," said Ron, nodding. "Pure genius."

Thank you, Ron, for the compliment, said Ginny in Harry's head, causing him to choke on the mouthful of eggs he'd been consuming.

-- -- --

One-and-a-half hours and two classes later, Ron was grumbling yet again about Hermione. "She's a bloody know-it-all," was his favourite nasty comment. The class had been put into pairs to work on some new spells in Charms, and Ron had been put with Hermione (Professor Flitwick obviously couldn't see the impending danger that surrounded the two). Ron was once again disgruntled that Hermione had bested him. This time, however, Hermione had heard Ron's comment, and all that could be seen of her was her bushy hair and her hands, which had covered her face in an unsuccessful attempt to muffle her sobs.

Later that night at the Halloween feast, Hermione had not turned up for a single lesson, which was quite unlike her, nor was she at the Gryffindor table. The last that had been seen of her, Harry had heard, was when she had hurtled into the first-floor girls' bathroom.

Ginny was appalled at her older brothers' behavior towards the bushy-haired girl. Harry had had to put up with her snarling insults to Ron in his head all day, and she was still at it now.

Horrible asshole, she grumbled. I'd like to see his reaction if I insulted him for something he was proud of… Her anger was so solid that Harry could feel some of it himself, and had to refrain from repeating some of the insults to Ron's face.

The feast had just begun when the magnificent double doors to the Great Hall swung open rather forcefully and a voice screamed, "TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS! TROLL!" And then, quieter, "Thought you ought to know." Thud.

It was Professor Quirrell, and he had fainted straight after he had spoken (or screamed, rather).

Pandemonium broke out in the Hall. Professor Dumbledore had to resort to creating several purple firecrackers to get people's attention.

"All staff members go to the dungeons immediately," he said loudly. "Prefects, lead your House back to the dormitories."

Percy was, of course, downright delighted about this arrangement. "Gryffindors follow me," he announced, struggling to make his voice heard over the chatter. "Make two straight lines."

It was only when they reached the first floor that Harry remembered, for once without Ginny's help – "Hermione!" He dragged Ron off to the girls' bathroom by a handful of his robes.

Imagine their shock and horror when they found the troll smashing its way into the bathroom!

Harry and Ron rushed into the girls' bathroom without the thought that it was a girls' bathroom crossing their minds once. They found Hermione cowering behind one of the sinks, watching wide-eyed as the troll smashed through the wooden cubicles separating each toilet, looking for the source of the whimpering it could hear.

"Come on!" Harry told Hermione, extending an arm for her to grab. "Let's get out of here!"

Unfortunately, they weren't so lucky as to get out without the troll noticing first. Grunting and roaring, the troll swung an arm towards Harry, who only just managed to duck. Fortune wasn't smiling upon them that day, because when Harry ducked, his hand slipped from Hermione's arm.

"Harry!" she screamed as the troll made a swing for her. She wasn't as good at dodging as Harry was, and chose to dive behind a sink instead. The troll smashed through it easily, and water squirted her from the punctured tap.

Through the entire hubbub between the troll, Hermione and Harry, Ron stood forgotten in the corner next to all the smashed-up toilet cubicles. Lunging for the biggest piece of splintered wood, throwing it at the troll's head and yelling, "Oy, pea-brain!" Most likely the troll couldn't even feel the wood as it simply bounced off its head. However, it could hear Ron's yell, and so it decided to turn its attention to him rather than Harry and Hermione.

Ron cowered back against the wall, having nowhere to run. So whilst it was distracted, Harry quite rashly ran at full speed towards the huge troll, throwing himself at it and wrapping his arms around its neck.

The troll could feel him, but most likely – and hopefully – didn't know what he was. Bucking Harry forward, the troll caught his ankle and dangled him upside-down in midair.

Ginny?! Harry half-screamed, half-asked. What do I do?!

But Ginny didn't answer. From what he could tell through their link, Harry figured that she was almost unconscious – the blood had rushed to her head at the same time it had done so to Harry, and Ginny wasn't taking it so well.

Not having Ginny to call upon made Harry turn to his last resort – "Ron!" he yelped. "Do something!"

And do something Ron did. Whipping out his wand, he shouted daringly, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Normally Ron wouldn't stand a chance trying to perform this sort of magic. Being in this sort of situation brings out the best in people, however, and the club that the troll held in the hand that wasn't holding Harry was wrenched out of its hand, hanging in midair for a moment before dropping down onto the troll's head with a sickening crack like a gunshot.

The hand holding Harry's ankle slackened and relented, and Harry had mere moments to do something before he hit the ground. Twisting in mid-air and landing in a cat-like crouch wasn't what he had planned, but Harry didn't care what it looked like as he scrambled out of the way just in time before the knocked-out troll fell to the ground with a resounding thud.

There was an awkward silence. And then the awkwardness rose to a new level when the silence was broken with a, "What on earth were you thinking of?"

It was McGonagall. "You could've been killed," she continued, glaring piercingly at them. "Why aren't you in your dormitories?"

Harry and Ron looked at the floor, with Ron stuttering, "We – we were," in the background, when a high voice cut into the silence.

"Please, Professor, they were looking for me."

It was Hermione. Continuing and either not noticing or ignoring Harry's and Ron's looks of incredulity, she said, "I – I went looking for the troll because – well, I thought I could deal with them, since I'd read all about them. If – if Harry and Ron hadn't come to save me, I'd probably be dead."

Harry and Ron's mouths hung open in shock. Ginny, who had obviously regained her senses, had dropped the book she had been holding back at the Burrow. Hermione Granger, the teacher's pet, lying to one? It was unheard of.

Professor McGonagall stared at them all, shocked. This obviously wasn't what she had expected. Finally, gathering herself, she said, "Well, Miss Granger, if that's all you have to say for yourself, then – then five points from Gryffindor. If you're not hurt, then off you go." But when Harry and Ron moved to follow her, McGonagall stopped them.

"Five points each to Gryffindor," she told them, "and Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. Not many first-years could have taken on a twelve-foot mountain troll and lived to tell the tale. You may go."

And from that day on, Hermione became their friend.