Summary:
Halloween is here, what happens next to Harry, Severus, and the back of Quirrell's turban? Let's read and see.
Notes:
No money being made, can't stress that enough.
Harry was just helping himself to a baked 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." (JKR, Harry Potter and the Sorcerers Stone)
He then face-planted on the highly polished floor and broke his nose, because the little creep deserved it after setting a full-grown Mountain troll on a school full of underage witches and wizards.
Harry Potter glanced at his lacking-in-minimal-intelligence pal, Ron Weasley, and noticed that the know it all Granger girl was not sitting next to him. Harry felt the eyes of his personal superhero, Severus Tobias Snape, boring a hole into his back. He turned and caught Snape gesturing to him, then to Professor Quirrell, and then did his best baby mallard impression, quickly falling in step behind the swirling, inky black robes. They stopped right where blood was pooling by Quirrell's face. "Get up, you useless excuse for a wizard, and tell me where you planted that odiferous beast", Snape growled at the sad sack of excrement that Dumbledore hired as this year's candidate for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post.
If the proper defense for the Dark Arts were to cave in immediately, then Quirinus Quirrell was the perfect Professor, Harry mused, as he looked to Professor Snape for direction. "If you want to leave the Great Hall amongst the living, you will get your sorry arse up and direct me to that Troll!", bellowed Snape, who really had no time to waste on squirrel shit. "Sn-sn-Snape", the bloody-nosed, sniveling weenie stuttered, "how would I know where the tr-tr-troll went?"
"Drop the innocent, naive Professor crap, you are a Ravenclaw who did graduate studies in Albania, studying Eastern European trolls, if anyone can hide a troll in a school, it's you. Where. Is. It?", Snape demanded.
"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Snape, he's near Moaning Myrtle's girls room. The Granger girl is hiding in there. You get the girl, I'll banish the troll, and we can forget this unpleasantness ever happened", the back of Quirrell's turban sneered, in a dead-on impression of Quirrell. "You forget that all of Hogwarts has witnessed this chat", remarked Snape, who wondered how Quirrell replied when his lips definitely were NOT moving.
"Do you want Granger to be Troll chow? Get the know it all girl and let me deal with the fools in the Great Hall", the back of Quirrell's turban commanded (c'mon, we all know it's Voldemort, but it's called foreshadowing, bit - oops, witches). The wizard riding on the back of Quirrell's head, sharing the turban, obliviated the population of the Great Hall, leaving Snape and Harry to rescue Granger. Clearly a Troll would not rid Voldemort of one pesky boy who lived, he would need to be crafty.
"Professor Snape, why did Professor Quirrell put a Troll inside Hogwarts?", Harry queried, as the Professor escorted Hermoine and Harry back to the Gryffindor tower. "And how did he speak without his lips moving?", he added, totally ignoring Hermoine as she waved her hand in the air, trying to show off by answering Harry's first question. "Stop your ceaseless arm-waving and let me answer, Miss Granger. Those are both excellent questions, Mister Potter, questions that we will have to address at a later date. I will send you an owl before the winter holidays , so that we may discuss this further. Do not trust Professor Quirrell, do not allow yourself to be alone with him, and avoid attracting the attention of the Headmaster, he has Quirrell here for a reason, and it somehow involves you. Off you go, Potter, I need a word, alone, with Miss Granger". Hermoine preened as she basked in her perceived importance. The poor, delusional girl.
As Harry tumbled through the Fat Lady's portrait, Severus Snape aimed his wand at Hermoine Granger, whispering Obliviate, before turning on his heel and stalking away to the dungeons, leaving Hermoine wondering why she was standing outside the Fat Lady's portrait, alone, friendless, and hungry.
Notes:
Snarry authors RULE!
