Title: The Puir Laddie Who Lived
Author: Fojee aka Punk Bandit
Chapter 5
Wandering around at night, it was natural for Garbo to meet the illustrious Mrs. Norris. And being as it was that he took after his father, what happened next was something that may offend the readers' delicate sensibilities. Suffice to say, Argus Filch loathed the boy whose familiar had left his beloved cat with scratches all over her body. And he didn't change his mind even after Mrs. Norris had kittens.
888
"We found somethin' in yon rooms, 'arry, somethin' ye have need o' seeing," Killem declared one day after dinner.
"What is it?"
"A hiddlin," Hobble answered.
The two wee free men led Harry to an unused classroom on the fourth floor. Inside the room was a tall mirror on a stand. It was gilted in gold and had letters carved upon its frame. Erised. Desire. And indeed, the mirror showed him his heart's desire.
Harry watched as the cottage at the Chalk was shown, with Mistress Aching greeting him at the door with a smile. Behind her, Granny Weatherwax nodded in approval, her mouth twitching. And then the picture blurred and changed into the grounds at Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy stood and waved at him, before talking to him soundlessly, his face open, as if... as if they were good friends. The picture blurred yet again. This time, he was healing all sorts of creatures: lambs, unicorns, and even a baby in its mother's arms. He smiled. Even the mirror knows his indecision. He turned away from it, to see the two pictsies. They looked entranced.
"What do you see?" He asked them curiously.
Hobble answered first. "I see a big bottle of likker, and scunners to fight, and ships to steal."
"I saw 'em first!" Killem interjected.
Harry had to shush them before they stopped their threats. "The mirror shows you what you really want, that's all. You can't really get the liquor, or whatever else it shows you."
"We know," Killem said. "We tried going in, but it's no' a door."
"It could be," Hobble interrupted. "But there's non' inside now."
Harry sighed. "This place is full of secrets and surprises, isn't it?" He shuddered after remembering the shadow that had drank the unicorn's blood.
"Well, there's 'nother one," Hobble looked guilty for a second. "We found it ages ago, but we forgot."
"What?" Harry asked, as they walked back to his dorm room.
"There's somethin' on the third floor, a dog it is, with three 'eads!" Killem gestured wildly.
Hobble looked more sober. "We think the dog be guardin' something."
"Another hiddlin," Killem added.
"Yeah, this place is full of secrets," Harry said softly. "Sometimes, it makes me want to go home and churn butter with Mistress Aching."
"Aye. We all miss the hag." Hobble tried to pat Harry's head.
888
Halloween. In Lancre, few people celebrated Halloween. Granny Weatherwax didn't approve of children dressing up like her, then knocking on her door, demanding sweets. Of course, no one really dared knock on her door, and most ended up in front of Nanny Ogg's house, and Nanny always had sweets around for her numerous grandchildren. None of them were in witches' garb, although some of the girls wore paper crowns and pretended they were Queen Magrat. Granny didn't know whether to be grateful or insulted.
At Hogwarts, Halloween meant extra servings, with a bowl of multi-flavored jelly beans and chocolate frogs on the table for dessert. Harry, feeling a tad adventurous, was just reaching for a blue colored bean when Professor Quirrell burst through the doors in the Great Hall. "Troll! There's a troll in the dungeons!" He exclaimed, before fainting on the stone floor.
The Heads of the four Houses immediately ordered the prefects to herd the children back into their dormitories. Harry had met a troll before, the one that had guarded the bridge near Lancre, and he didn't see what the big deal was. You could usually talk your way out of a head-on confrontation, and barring that, use magic to get it to go away. But he remembered the unicorn and decided trolls may be something completely different in this world. He was about to join the group of Hufflepuffs heading for their room, when Killem and Hobble jumped on his shoulders.
"The trollie's big an' slow but there's a little hag cryin' in the privy nearby," Killem told him. "Can we kill it?"
"The hag?" Harry asked, confused.
"No, the troll, you spavie," Hobble muttered into his other ear.
Harry sighed. "Well I suppose we should save the little hag, whoever she is."
So he slipped past the others down into the dungeons towards the girls' privy near their potions classroom. He was in the corridors trying to follow the sounds of crying from around the next corner when he met face to face with the troll. He had expected it to be tall. Most trolls had to be to gain the necessary altitude for their brains to function. He had also expected it to look more like rock, maybe the igneous kind or the sedimentary, with layers on its skin. This creature however, had a face like doughy flesh mixed with gravel. And he did not expect the stench. It smelled like dried sweat magnified a hundred times.
It roared at him, waving its giant cudgel around. He felt the wee free men jump off his shoulders, scream their war cries and attack in blue blurs. He threw himself past it and towards the nearest door, where he flew into Hermione Granger's arms.
"Oof!" Harry's breath rushed out of him. They were both lying on the floor, face to face. He had time to notice the other girl's tear-streaked cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, before the door crashed open, and the troll entered. It was thrashing around, trying to get something off its back, as if swatting some errant flies. "Go hide in the stalls," Harry had time to scream into the girl's face, before he rolled over and reached for his wand. He had just gotten it out and pointed it at the troll's head when Killem dealt a blow directly to its head.
It toppled slowly to the ground just as several professors entered the doorway with wands drawn.
"Mr. Potter!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed, and then when she espied the other person in the bathroom, spluttered in shock, "Ms. Granger? What is the meaning of this?"
Harry lowered his wand, with an uneasy look at the troll. It started to snore. "It's ok, 'arry. Killem hit it good," Hobble whispered in his ear, before disappearing down his pocket.
"I'm waiting," Professor McGonagall said in a don't-dare-lie-to-me-young-man tone. She crossed her arms, while Professor Snape examined the troll's injuries.
"I…" Harry was at a complete loss for words. He looked at Hermione, who was still sniffling. Then he had an idea. "I heard someone talk about Ms. Granger. They said she went to the bathroom in the dungeons. So I thought I'd go and see if she was alright."
Hermione interrupted. "He saved my life, Professor. I hadn't heard about the troll, you see." She seemed to have calmed down, and looked more cowed than she usually did.
"What spell did you use?" Severus Snape asked with a raised eyebrow. "There doesn't seem to be any magical residue."
"Oh I didn't use any," Harry quickly replied. "The troll knocked itself out with its own cudgel."
The teachers looked like they didn't believe it, but Harry remained impassive until they shrugged and accepted him at his word. Professor Sprout awarded him five points for attempting to rescue a fellow student, although Snape had muttered, "He should be getting demerits for his foolhardiness, instead."
He smiled a little. Sometimes, it sounded as if beneath the vindictive words of the potions master, he actually cared about Harry's safety. The man was horribly unfair in class, but he also reminded Harry of the sharp tongue of Granny Weatherwax.
And he did agree with the professor's comments. It had been foolish of him to attempt to fight a creature he knew nothing about. Professor Quirrell had yet to cover it in class. They were too busy talking about amulets and charms of protection.
Harry was then asked to escort Hermione to the infirmary as she was still in a bit of shock and had some bruises from when Harry slammed into her. So he took a hold of her arm and led her away.
"So what was that all about?" Hermione immediately asked, as soon as they were out of earshot. "I could see something fight the troll. I thought it was a spell of sorts."
Harry looked at her quizzically. Her hair was still a mess, and her face was smudged with dirt and tears. But she looked back at him determinedly. He didn't know her very well, but she already had a reputation for a bloodthirsty curiosity that just wouldn't give up. He sighed and decided he might as well tell her.
"Thank you for not saying anything then. I guess I'd have to introduce you. The one on my right is Hobble. And the creature on my left is Killem All. They're brothers." The wee free men showed themselves, bowing theatrically at the stunned witch.
"What are they? And how did they manage to defeat the troll? They're six inches high, for crying out loud!" She blurted out, before covering her mouth in embarrassment.
Harry laughed a little. "They're what we call wee free men, from the clan Nac mac Feegles. They're like Scottish fairies." He had already noticed that Hagrid's Scottish accent and Professor McGonagall's soft burr was similar in tone to the pictsies' although they differed in dialect. "Don't underestimate them. They may be small, but they're very strong and fast. They were the ones who told me about you."
Hermione had recovered and curtsied to the two awkwardly. "Then I thank you for saving my life, Mr. Hobble and Mr. Killem All."
Hobble blushed which made him look purple. "Oh t'was nothing, wee hag. We hear't you cryin', is all." Killem snickered at his brother.
"So why were you crying anyway?" Harry asked, changing the topic.
Hermione looked embarrassed again. "I heard someone say something mean about me," she said in a low tone.
Harry could feel the two Nac mac Feegles about to declare their intentions to hurt that someone, so he shushed them. "What were they saying if you don't mind telling me?"
Hermione looked at the floor. "That I was a know-it-all, and I guess it's true."
"I did hear you always raise your hand in class, and always gets really high grades in the assignments," Harry began tentatively. "I suppose it could get annoying for people who aren't as interested in learning. You make them look like the lazy sots they are."
He was rewarded by a tremulous smile from the other girl. "I suppose. I am interested in learning everything, but only because I'm a muggle-born and I don't know all those things the others take for granted, you know?"
Harry nodded. "I feel the same way. To really learn something, one must be passionate about it."
"But I have no friend," Hermione exclaimed bitterly. "Except when they need help with their homework, and then they come to me."
Harry smiled at her. "Well we're friends now, aren't we? And I'm sure not all of your Housemates share that opinion of you."
"Maybe," Hermione looked like she didn't believe it. "Anyway, thanks again for the rescue. And I promise your secret's safe with me." She waved goodbye as soon as they were at the door of the infirmary. Harry waved back, before walking away towards his own dorm room.
"I like her," Hobble declared. Killem sniggered. "Oh shut up."
888
At the next Defense against the Dark Arts class, Professor Quirrell was limping. It got so bad that he cancelled the session thirty minutes into a lecture about protective circles.
Harry wondered why he didn't just go to the infirmary. He would have cast a diagnosis spell on the other man, but the particular spell he knew glowed brilliantly and would have given him away. From what he could see of the professor's movements, it was a leg wound, or several wounds. And it was still bleeding. There was a line of blood soaked into his trouser legs.
Wounds like that could be treated immediately, or the blood could at least be spelled to clot. It would be easy to heal even for someone at his stage of training. Of course, if he did it, there would be an unsightly scar. Madame Pomfrey, on the other hand, could do it without leaving much of a mark.
He wondered about it up until his potions class, and his diverted attention was immediately obvious to his professor.
"Mr. Potter, twenty points for dillydallying in my class," Professor Snape announced in a voice deceptively soft. "The potion will not brew itself. Attend!"
Harry was forced to focus on the brewing, even as his mind whirled a mile a minute. There was something he needed to remember, something that had bugged him about Professor Quirrell. He thought back to his first day at Hogwarts, at the feast… His scar! It had hurt when the professor had looked sideways, his turban swinging around. What did that mean?
Then he remembered the shadow at the Forbidden Forest and the awkward way it stood up from the ground after it drank unicorn's blood…
Harry shook his head. Even if it were true that there was something off about Professor Quirrell, who could he tell?
He handed the vial of his potion to Professor Snape while still deep in thought and only looked up when he felt a hand clamp down on his extended wrist.
"You are endangering the rest of the class with your absent-mindedness, Potter. Now, pray tell, what exactly is running through your insipid mind?"
Harry looked up into Professor Snape's dark eyes, and was surprised when he felt a stab of magic probing his thoughts. He tore his hand away as well as his eyes and made his excuses, leaving the dungeons at a run. Professor Snape knew headology! He didn't know whether to feel nostalgic or terrified.
Severus Snape watched Harry Potter run out of his classroom. The boy seemed to have sensed his legilimency attack, and his mind had a basic shield in place. Does he know occlumency as well? Curiouser and curiouser.