Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, which is why this is on Fanfiction and not being published as a book (not that it would make the cut, anyways).
The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers and dark green hills.
There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy Harry had passed on platform nine and three-quarters came in. He looked tearful.
"Sorry" he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"
When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"
"He'll turn up," said Harry.
"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him …"
He left.
"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."
The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap.
"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look …"
He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.
"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway –"
He had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.
"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth.
"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.
"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."
She sat down. Ron looked taken aback.
"Er – all right."
He cleared his throat.
"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,
Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."
He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed grey and fast asleep.
"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard – I've learnt all our set books off by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough – I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"
She said all this very fast.
Harry looked at Ron and was relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn't learnt all the set books off by heart either.
"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.
"Harry Potter," said Harry.
"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course – I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."
"I know," Harry said. "I've read those."
"Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best, I hear Dumbledore himself was one, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad … Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."
And she left, taking the toadless boy with her.
"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Ron. He threw his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell – George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."
"What house are your brothers in?" asked Harry.
"Gryffindor," said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. "Mum and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."
"That's the house Vol – I mean, You-Know-Who was in?"
"Yeah," said Ron. He flopped back into his seat, looking depressed.
"You know, I think the ends of Scabbers's whiskers are a bit lighter," said Harry, trying to take Ron's mind off houses. "So what do your oldest brothers do now they've left, anyway?"
Harry was wondering what a wizard did once he'd finished school.
"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts," said Ron. "Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the Daily Prophet, but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles – someone tried to rob a high-security vault."
Harry stared.
"Really? What happened to them?"
"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."
Harry turned this news over in his mind. He was starting to get a prickle of fear every time You-Know-Who was mentioned. He supposed this was all part of entering the magical world, but it had been a lot more comfortable saying "Voldemort" without worrying.
"What's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked.
"Er – I don't know any," Harry confessed.
"What!" Ron looked dumbfounded. "Oh, you wait, it's the best game in the world –" And he was off, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games he'd been to with his brothers and the broomstick he'd like to get if he had the money. He was just taking Harry through the finer points of the game when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn't Neville the toadless boy or Hermione Granger this time.
Three boys entered and Harry recognised the middle one at once: it was the pale boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop. He was looking at Harry with a lot more interest than he'd shown back in Diagon Alley.
"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"
"Yes," said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing either side of the pale boy they looked like bodyguards.
"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."
Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him.
"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles and more children than they can afford."
"Excuse me," Harry said. "That's not very nice of you."
Malfoy sniffed daintily. "I don't need to be nice. I'm a Malfoy. See, you'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort, like that blood traitor Weasley. I can help you there."
"There's no wrong sort but you," Harry said coldly.
"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riff-raff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid and it'll rub off on you."
"That's extremely offensive," Harry said, standing up with Ron. "Take that back," he said confidently.
Malfoy looked a bit nervous, but he pushed it down. "Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?"
"Sure," Harry said.
"Crabbe! Goyle! Seize the bloody-"
BANG!
The three of them - Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle lay spread outside the compartment. Harry's powers had acted up again, hadn't they...
"Blimey, mate!" Ron shouted. "That was amazing!"
Harry blushed.
"You've chosen the wrong enemy," Malfoy hissed, attempting to sit up. "Wait until my father hears about this!"
"Watch him try," Harry said. "I'll be ready for the bloody Death Eater."
"My goodness!" Hermione screeched. "What happened here?"
"E-er, nothing!" Harry exclaimed, waving his arms, as if he was trying to cover up the scene.
"You'll have to teach me how to do that, mate!" Ron exclaimed.
"WHAT HAPPENED HERE?" Hermione bellowed.
"I DON'T KNOW!" Ron yelled back. "But it looked pretty cool. Teach me, mate! Teach me!"
Harry smiled. "This is completely wandless and non-verbal-"
"Mate, you're the second coming of Merlin!" Ron exclaimed.
"We'll see about that!" Malfoy spat. "My father will hear about-!"
"You've already said that," Harry said.
"Don't interrupt me!" Malfoy continued. "When my father hears that you interrupted me-"
"Stop it," Harry said, annoyed. A force began guiding Malfoy out of the compartment, walking him down the hallway. To any observers, this movement looked completely natural and not forced at all. Harry had made sure his facial expression looked smooth, his legs were walking normally, and his hands were swinging.
Crabbe and Goyle sat up. "Boss?"
Malfoy turned around, his mouth opened to say something. Harry gritted his teeth. This was harder than he thought. Malfoy couldn't say anything, though.
"Close that mouth," Ron snickered. "Or else some flies will get in there."
Malfoy blushed red, turning back and walking.
"Boss?" Crabbe asked again.
Malfoy ignored them, walking further and further.
"I think your young boss wants you to follow him into the restroom," Ron said, snorting. There was Malfoy, latched onto the restroom compartment's door.
Lift his hand.
Malfoy's hand rose up against his will.
Curl his index finger.
Malfoy beckoned for Crabbe and Goyle to follow him.
"I think Boss went crazy," Goyle muttered.
"Right," Crabbe said.
Hermione had stayed next to Harry and Ron, her hands on her hips. "What just happened here?" she hissed.
"Ron," Harry said, sitting on his bed.
"Yeah, mate?" Ron asked.
"You wanted to know how I can use telekinesis, right?"
"Er, yeah," Ron said.
"Here's what you do. I brought my book copy of Matilda along with me, so here it is."
"What's Matilda?" Ron asked, excited. "Is it some manual to becoming the second coming of Merlin?"
"In a way," Harry said, grinning.
"Oooooh gimme!"
"One sec," Harry said. "Let me read out the important parts to you. You can read the rest of the book later."
"Okay," Ron said. "Definitely better than reading the whole book."
"It's not a long book," Harry said, searching for the right paragraph. "Right, here it is! Do you have a cup or something?"
"I have a quill," Ron said. "Is that too light?"
"No, it'll be good practice," Harry said. "What you need to do is concentrate. Focus."
Ron nodded, narrowing his eyes at the quill he had placed on the ground.
"Now shout the word 'Rise!'-"
"RISE!"
"-without saying it."
"W-what?"
"Think the word as loud as you can think it."
Ron narrowed his eyes again. Harry didn't know exactly what he was thinking, but the feather tentatively wobbled.
"That's progress," Harry said. "We have seven years to perfect this. I'm sure there's next time!"
"But mate, I want to learn it now!"
"It took me many tries," Harry said. "Just keep practicing until you feel tired."
"I will," Ron promised. "I will."
"What's happening here?" Dean Thomas asked, waking up.
"E-er, nothing," Harry insisted.
A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.
"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things – this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red – oh …" His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "… you've forgotten something …"
Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.
Harry sneered, lifting his hand. The Remembrall shot into his palm, and Harry handed it to a shell-shocked Neville. "Here you go!"
Malfoy's eyes widened, and he ran off. Professor McGonagall appeared. "What happened here?"
"E-er, nothing!"Harry exclaimed, waving his arms, as if he was trying to cover up the scene.
Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, grey hair and yellow eyes like a hawk.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."
Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.
"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say, 'Up!'"
"UP!" everyone shouted.
Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Harry; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.
Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows, correcting their grips. Harry and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly. On my whistle – three – two –"
But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.
"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle – twelve feet – twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and –
Harry stretched out his fingers, stopping Neville halfway. Neville was slowly levitated back down to the ground.
"Thanks," Neville muttered.
Madam Hooch turned around. "I'm lost. What just happened here? Neville, you look deathly pale. Let's go to the Hospital Wing."
Neville protested, but Madam Hooch levitated him up. "Nobody get on their brooms while I'm gone," she snapped, entering the castle.
No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.
"Did you see his face, the great lump?"
The other Slytherins joined in.
"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little cry babies, Parvati."
"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."
The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.
"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.
Malfoy smiled nastily.
"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to collect – how about – up a tree?""Give it here!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt on to his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well – hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"
Harry grinned, holding up his hand.
"Can't stop me now!" Malfoy shouted. The broom had too much power for Harry to stop it. But he could do something.
Harry summoned the Remembrall back to him. Malfoy looked at him, surprised. Wait a second-
He had used too much power, and the Remembrall was flying into a different direction!
Harry hopped onto his broom and snatched the Remembrall a foot before it slammed into the ground.
"What happened here?" Professor McGonagall shouted, striding down to the first years. Nobody responded.
Harry was just helping himself to a jacket potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the Hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table and gasped, "Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know."
He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.
There was uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.
"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately!"
Percy was in his element.
"Follow me! Stick together, first-years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first-years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a Prefect!"
"How could a troll get in?" Harry asked as they climbed the stairs.
"Don't ask me, they're supposed to be really stupid," said Ron. "Maybe Peeves let it in for a Hallowe'en joke."
They passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions. As they jostled their way through a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs, Harry suddenly grabbed Ron's arm.
"I've just thought – Hermione."
"What about her?"
"She doesn't know about the troll."
Ron bit his lip.
"Oh, all right," he snapped. "But Percy'd better not see us."
Ducking down, they joined the Hufflepuffs going the other way, slipped down a deserted side corridor and hurried off towards the girls' toilets. They had just turned the corner when they heard quick footsteps behind them.
"Percy!" hissed Ron, pulling Harry behind a large stone griffin.
Peering around it, however, they saw not Percy but Snape. He crossed the corridor and disappeared from view.
"What's he doing?" Harry whispered. "Why isn't he down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?"
Quietly as possible, they crept along the next corridor after Snape's fading footsteps.
"He's heading for the third floor," Harry said, but Ron held up his hand.
"Can you smell something?"
Harry sniffed and a foul stench reached his nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean.
And then they heard it – a low grunting and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. Ron pointed: at the end of a passage to the left, something huge was moving towards them. They shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.
It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite grey, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.
The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.
"The key's in the lock," Harry muttered. "We could lock it in."
"Good idea," said Ron nervously.
They edged towards the open door, mouths dry, praying the troll wasn't about to come out of it. With one great leap, Harry managed to grab the key, slam the door and lock it.
"Yes!"
Flushed with their victory they started to run back up the passage, but as they reached the corner they heard something that made their hearts stop – a high, petrified scream – and it was coming from the chamber they'd just locked up.
"Oh, no," said Ron, pale as the Bloody Baron.
"It's the girls' toilets!" Harry gasped.
"Hermione!" they said together.
It was the last thing they wanted to do, but what choice did they have? Wheeling around they sprinted back to the door and turned the key, fumbling in their panic – Harry pulled the door open – they ran inside.
Hermione Granger was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went.
"STOP!" Harry shouted, extending his fingers. The troll grunted as a force held him back. Unfortunately, he was magic-resistant, so...
"STOP!" Ron shouted too, extending his fingers.
"He's magic resistant, Ron!" Harry exclaimed. "I don't think it'll work!"
"STOP!" Ron shouted again, but the troll paid him no mind. "We need to do something-" The troll continued to advance on Hermione-
"HIT HIM!" Harry screamed, pointing at the club. The club lifted and knocked the troll back.
The troll grunted and tried punching the club.
"HIT HIM!" Ron shrieked, pointing at the club. The troll was literally right next to Ron, and Ron did not want it to wake up from its stupor.
The club lifted itself and bashed the troll's head - hard. The troll sank down onto the ground. Just then, the trio heard footsteps.
"What happened here?" Professor McGonagall asked, her hand clutching her chest in worry.
Hermione stepped forward.
Later, when the trio was out of Professor McGonagall's sight, Hermione turned around, looking at Harry and Ron.
"You two are going to teach me how you do this," she grumbled. "Are you like the second coming of Merlin?"
Ron leaned against the wall, trying to look as hot as possible. "Of course."
"W-wait, really?" Hermione asked.
"No," Harry said, snorting. "It just takes a little book called Matilda and a little bit of practice."
"Great!" Hermione exclaimed. "Teach me how to do it, please!"
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