For rules see the beginning of the prologue or visit PadyandMoony's page. None of the characters are mine and any and all mistakes are also mine (d'oh!)


Chapter Six: Of Trolls and Trouble


Perhaps it was because he was now so busy, what with Quidditch practice three evenings a week on top of all his homework, but Harry could hardly believe it when he realised that he'd already been at Hogwarts two months. The castle would never be to him quite what the dark, secretive rooms of Pennsylvania Cottage were, but it had become almost a home away from home. His lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that they had mastered the basics.

Today was Hallowe'en and Harry was looking forwards to that afternoon with the usual, quiet excitement that a visit to his parents' graves always brought. Harry remembered very little of his parents, and what he did was just glimpses of two pairs of vibrant, laughing eyes, or the feeling of an ear pressed against a chest during speech. The snippets were bittersweet in a way that made Harry long to remember more, and wish he couldn't remember even this much.

Harry did not visit his parents' graves very frequently, a fact that made his Dad and Pads eternally grateful. Each of the three of them loved James and Lily Potter a great deal, but to visit their graves more than once a year raised suspicion among neighbours to the site and also made the chances of Remus or Sirius being seen and arrested.

But, once a year, every Hallowe'en, his Dad and Pads would draw him out of school for the afternoon and take him to visit his parents' graves. They'd take a single white Lily for his Mum and carve out a silly pumpkin face for his Dad James. The three of them explain to the dead couple what had happened since the last time they had visited and pay their respect before, normally, returning to Pennsylvania Cottage and making dinner together, sharing anecdotes and telling favourite stories.

This year, however, things were going to be slightly different. Harry was at Hogwarts and he had lessons all day Hallowe'en and there was no way that his Dad and Pads could simply pull him out of them, like they had done in previous years. Instead, they would wait until after Harry's last lesson, that ended at three, then he'd sneak out through one of the hidden passages into Hogsmeade where he'd meet his Dad and Pads and they'd apparate to Godric's Hollow. They would only have a couple of hours before Harry was missed, but none of them would break with this tradition for the world.

Their trip had been planned far in advance and, despite the nervous energy thrilling through Harry's veins, there was nothing particularly exceptional about the morning. Charms with the Gryffindors had been fun and it had given Harry the chance to catch up with Ron and the other Gryffindor boys, who had all become avid fans when they realised exactly how much Snape hated Harry and how Harry kept one-upping the git through getting his potions right.

After Charms they had double Transfiguration with the Hufflepuffs, then lunch and then, to Harry's great dismay, Potions. The rest of the lessons, he knew, would go fine, but something was telling him that this day - the anniversary of the death of his parents and one of the few times each year he had something he refused to not do - something would stop him. Sure enough, when Potions finally rolled round an obstruction, by the name of one Severus Snape.

Over lunch Harry had taken Stephen and Kevin aside and told them quietly that he was leaving the school for a couple of hours after his last lesson. Both boys had been watching Harry a little strangely throughout the day, all too aware of what had happened on that day ten years ago, and seemed relieved when he told them what he planned to do.

'Hey, no problem, Harry,' Stephen assured him. 'We'll get Ron and Draco to fight over some pointless thing again, or something, to distract the teachers, if they started asking.'

Harry rolled his eyes at he suggestion. Ron and Draco may both like him, but they hated each other - they wouldn't need provoking. But the thing that reassured him the most was Kevin's small smile of encouragement. Kevin never really said much and, just as he had at the beginning of term, he preferred to stick to the shadows, watching rather than partaking. Nonetheless, after his accident during Flying lessons and the way Harry had, within weeks, made everyone forget who he'd actually saved, Kevin had appointed himself Harry Potter's personal guard. Not so much physically, as he was just as small as Harry and wouldn't be able to fight off one of the other first years, let alone a full grown wizard, but he seemed to hear everything, know every rumour and ill intent towards Harry.

Kevin passed this information on to his friend and, in return, Harry gave him sanctuary. Harry was not bigheaded, living with a sensitive werewolf and someone bigheaded enough for three did that, but he knew that people watched him for something extraordinary. And so, if there was one more person following Harry around, who would notice? The safety Kevin could find in Harry's shadow was better than anything anyone else could offer and the friendship between the two of them grew.

Kevin was also, unfortunately, hopeless at Potions. Not quite as bad as the reported rumours of Neville Longbottom, but definitely the worst Ravenclaw first year and so, every Potions Lesson, Snape's scorning attention unfailingly turned to the boy at some point. Harry was usually able to whisper pointers to his friend without too much trouble, just as he did to help out others whose potions were failing badly, but that particular lesson he wasn't fast enough before Kevin's cauldron began to bubble over.

The potion didn't react explosively, but the scene that followed was like watching a train crash. One thing followed another until the dreadful result seemed inevitable. The cauldron bubbled over as Harry was returning from the stock cupboard with the next ingredient for his own potion. He didn't see the thick, viscous liquid puddle across the floor and so couldn't help but go flying when he trod in it.

The ingredient he was holding slipped from his hands and landed with a disconcerting 'plop' in someone's cauldron, causing that potion to fizz, then shrivel up into a husk in the bottom of the cauldron. Harry slipped and fell backwards, arms flailing in an attempt to stay upright and, in doing so, bashing another cauldron to the floor.

Snape watched the entire thing with black eyes that, for the first time, seemed delighted.

'Potter!' the Potions Master snapped. 'You have spoilt three people's potions, what do you have to say for yourself?'

Harry didn't glare up at his teacher, he couldn't risk further enraging Snape. 'I'm sorry sir,' he muttered.

'Sorry?' Snape snorted in the same tone of scornful delight. 'Sorry's not good enough, Potter. Since I do not wish to spoil my own evening you will serve detention beginning immediately after the lesson and for as long as it takes for you to brew three correct Forgetfulness Potions.'

Harry's head snapped up. 'But, sir!' he exclaimed in protestation. The potions would all take an hour and a half each to make, by which point the Hallowe'en feast would be over, never mind trying to sneak out before that to visit his parents' graves. Every year, without fail, and that… that… git had to go and spoil it!

'Twenty points from Ravenclaw, Mr Potter, and it'll be another thirty if you dare answer me back again.'

Harry didn't answer to that. If he could do what he wished he'd answer Snape back and more; he'd tell him exactly how much he hated him. The Professor had already taken away the one thing that Harry had been looking forward to for weeks now and he'd feel no regret if he ended up with detention from then until the Christmas holidays, but he would not lose points for his house.

Snape sneered, 'What, nothing more to say, Potter?'

Harry raised his tussled black-haired head slowly and looked his teacher directly in the eye. Then, in a voice that was so perfectly polite and emotionless it sent chills down more than one back, 'If you'll excuse me sir, but I wish to return to my work.'

Severus sneered again, but stepped to the side as the eleven year old brushed past him. The boy was infuriating! Admittedly, he was in a fouler mood than usual due to today being the anniversary of Lily's death, but - oh. Lily's death. Lily and James' death - Harry's parents. He had thought it a little unusual that this was the time when Harry would protest to the punishments given, as Severus had given more detentions for less than that before, but now he understood.

There had been rumours that three figures, undistinguishable from any distance, and disappearing when you got to close, would visit the graves of James and Lily Potter every Hallowe'en. Two adults and a child. Remus, Black and Potter. No doubt the three of them had had something similar planned for this day and Snape had ruined it for them. For a tiny sliver of a moment Snape regretted his actions, but then that feeling was gone and replaced with a self-satisfied smugness. For he, as ruled by The Old Coot, had never been allowed to see Lily's graves, nor pay his respects, so why should the Potter brat, werewolf and betrayer be allowed to?

Surprisingly the Potter brat was able to finish his own Potion, that Severus was sure the first year would not be able to save from ruin, but he gave no indication of his surprise, nor of the fact that, strictly speaking, Potter now only had two replacement potions left to make. When the bell rang Harry's classmates all filtered out, the one whose potion had been the beginning of all this grief in the first place, not saying anything, but touching Potter's shoulder briefly. Severus watched the movement with fascination, and was surprised to see a calculating gleam in the green eyes so like Lily's. Never, though, had Severus seen Lily's eyes regard Potions ingredients with such silent determination that turned a little victorious as countless unknown questions were answered behind the boy's eyes.

Then he watched in silent and masked astonishment as the eleven year old set up two cauldrons at the same time, retrieving the right amount of ingredients for two potions from his own and the dungeon supplies. Potter set to cutting and dicing with the same enthusiasm and gracefulness the boy only ever seemed to have when in the air. On Terra Firma the brat couldn't go a day without tripping over something, but in the air he had a confident elegance that, amazingly, seemed to also come to light when he began Potions.

But the boy had never been this firmly self confident in class, why would he begin now?

Harry didn't glance up often to see the teacher's expression, not really having the time with two cauldrons going at once, but when he did he almost laughed aloud to see the blatant look of astonishment that, though hidden in the man's expression, was clear in his obsidian eyes. He hadn't been sure, of course, whether or no it would be possible to do two of the Potions at once, but he had staggered the process by three minutes, allowing him to give each the time and care it needed.

He was furious with the man for stopping him going to see his parents' graves, but there was no point crying over spilt milk and there was still the chance that, if he could get the third potion started during the brewing time of the first two, he would still have a couple of minutes at the gravesite.

Then, as the first forty minutes drew to a close and the potions were prepared to stew for the next forty minutes, a foolish idea filled his head. It was stupid. Ridiculous. Pointless. He only needed to make three potions… but Harry was curious. He knew that he could make two at once; once he took the potions off the stewing stage, he only had to mix in a pinch of powdered moonstone and leave it to cool. But… could he… was it possible… three?

After all, he just had to ensure that one of the three potions was completed successfully, not all of them. It seemed like a disaster in the making, but, well, his parents had left him enough money to rebuild the dungeons if things went that wrong and the worst Snape could do was to take more house points and give him more detentions. So, with a determined look in his eye and refusing to look at the teacher who was now hunched over essays, scribbling away furiously in red ink, Harry hopped off the counter stool and set up another three cauldrons.

'Potter!' Snape snapped. 'What do you think you're doing?'

'Brewing the potions you asked for, sir,' Harry replied with the same, complete politeness in his tone, though it was spoilt slightly with the defiant look in his eyes.

'You really think you have the skill to brew three Forgetfulness potions at once, boy?'

Harry grinned widely, beaming. 'Nope,' he said, readily. 'But I'm curious to see if it's possible and you've already spoilt my day, so what have I to lose?'

Politeness was forgotten, as were the essays Snape had been marking as Harry hurried to the cupboard and began preparing the ingredients that were needed first. The first two potions were timely pulled off the boil, the moonstone powder added and left to cool as Harry worked around the other three potions, staggered from each other, this time by only two minutes. It made the schedule tighter, but it meant that he never had three things to do at once.

By the time the next three potions were pushed aside to boil Harry's face and robes were covered with splatters of potion and there was a suspicious looking burn on one of his sleeves. Harry quickly bottled the two first potions and placed them silently on Snape's desk, before returning to his work station and starting to clear away the mess he'd made in the past hour and a half. By the time the next potion was ready the moonstone was ready and waiting and the work top was cleaner than it probably had been in years.

The moonstone was added to each, along with a final stir and the potions were left to cool as Harry replaced the sealer on top of the powder and taking it back to the potions cupboard. Then the final potions were taken bottled and labelled, the cauldrons scoured and replaced in the cupboard. Harry placed the three finished potions on Snape's desk then stood back, waiting for the man's judgement.

Severus had devoted the boy his entire attention from the moment he had started the foolish endeavour of doing three potions simultaneously. Severus, himself, could of course create three of the Forgetfulness potions at once, if he wished, but he did it without getting splattered all over by dubious liquids. Still, for a first year to be able to complete the task with even two done to the level of success of the Potter boy… he would not let it distract him. The first two potions had been done to an exceptional standard, as all of Potter's previous potions had, though Snape had never said so. The last three, on the other hand, though good for any other first year, were far below Potter's usual standard. Severus smiled grimly within his head.

'Potter,' he finally addressed the boy. 'What do you call these?' he asked, holding up the three vials most recently placed on his desk.

'I know they aren't perfect, sir, but -'

'Shut up!' Severus snapped. 'Can you really not even follow simple instructions?'

Harry frowned up at his Potions Professor. What now? He wondered.

'I asked for three completed Potions, not five. Do you really lack that much self-confidence that you have to over compensate?'

Harry stayed silent as Snape snarled down at him.

'Ten points from Ravenclaw,' the man bit out. 'And get out of here before I double that!'

'Sir,' Harry said, barely louder than the slight squeak of the door as he ducked his head, pulled it open, and fled down the corridor, leaving the Potions Master with an entirely unsatisfactory feeling in his gut.

Because of the overlap, making the potions had only taken two hours and Harry still had a good half an hour before dinner and, even then, he doubted he'd be missed by anyone other than Snape, since everyone thought him in detention.

Rushing up to the Ravenclaw common room he grabbed the mobile phone his Dad and Pads had given him a long time ago to contact them. Then, hurriedly avoiding anyone he ran into, made his way out to the grounds to the Whomping Willow and then through the passageway to the Shrieking Shack. Finally, he'd made it there and out of the range of Hogwarts, making it possible to use muggle electric devices again.

'Dad? Yeah, I'm here,' Harry said, relief flooding his face as the next moment his Dad and Pads popped into existence to either side of him and enveloped him in a tight hug.


The half an hour spent at his parents graves, clutching tightly at his Dad and Pads's hands, hadn't been nearly long enough to tell his parents how he'd been and what he'd been up to, but it had been better than not being able to go. All too soon, he'd been pulled away after pressing a kiss to the cold, unyielding stone.

'See you next year Mum, Dad. I love you,' Harry whispered, before allowing his other Dad to pull him into a hug.

'Come on, pup, you need to get back before they miss you,' his Dad said quietly.

Harry sniffed slightly and buried his face in his Dad's coat front, revelling in the feeling as Pads hugged him too, from behind. 'I love you both too,' he whispered.

'Shush,' Pads said. 'We know. We know and love you too. Now come on,' he said and suddenly the three of them were back at the Shrieking Shack.

'You're happier, Pads,' Harry commented just before he said goodbye.

'You're happy, as is Remus. If you and Remus are happy, I'm happy.'

And it was the truth - things were that simple for Pads. Harry hugged him again, and his Dad again. 'I'll see you at Christmas,' he told them, then disappeared along the passageway up to the school.

Hiding the mobile in the folds of his uniform, Harry made his way straight to the Great Hall. A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

Harry settled down quickly between Stephen and Kevin, hastily telling them in whispers that he'd explain what had happened later. He'd just helped himself to a jacket potato when Professor Quirrell, their Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, 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.

In the uproar that ensued Harry couldn't help but turn to Stephen and Kevin and ask in a voice that no one else could hear, 'What happened to his stutter?'

It took a moment for Dumbledore to regain control, ordering the prefects to take the first years back to the common rooms and all of the teachers to go with him to the dungeons.

'What about Quirrell?' Stephen asked as they were herded out of the Hall.

Harry shrugged. 'Dumbledore's an idiot.'

'Too right!' Stephen chortled. 'Do you want to go looking for it ourselves?'

Harry considered for a moment, before he nodded enthusiastically. 'Kev? You going to come troll baiting with us?'

The other boy considered for a moment, then shook his head. The others understood, it wasn't about fear, but about the chance of drawing attention to himself. Harry nodded and Stephen slapped his back. 'Keep your ears open, yeah?' the pureblood asked.

'When haven't I?' Kevin retorted sharply, a grin blunting the sharpness of his words.

Stephen and Harry grinned back before the two boys slipped easily away and headed down towards the dungeons.

What they were quite thinking, neither boy really knew, but once the boys bumped into Ron and Dean, who were looking for Hermione, they changed course to get the bushy haired girl to safety before continuing their mission. The troll had, of course, found Hermione first and the situation had escalated from there.

The four boys had encircled the troll, who had spun around, trying to hit all of them at once, when Hermione had reminded Ron of the levitation spell they'd been working on in charms. With a swish and a flick the troll's club was ripped out of his hands and landing with a nasty clunk on his head. The troll toppled over, almost hitting Harry on its way down.

'Aw, Ron,' Stephen whined. 'What'd you have to go and do that for, I was having fun!'

Ron blushed and shrugged, though his gaze wandered back over to Hermione, who was getting unsteadily to her feet. Stephen and Harry shared a knowing grin - it would have been the hot-headed redhead who was the reason why Hermione was crying in the bathroom in the first place. Dean just rolled his eyes.

'Do you think it's dead?' Dean asked.

Harry kicked it and the troll groaned, though it did not wake. 'No,' he answered. 'Now get a move on, everyone. If we want to get out of here before the teachers come, we need to hurry.'

Nodding in agreement the Gryffindors bid Harry and Stephen a hasty goodbye and the first years all separated, quickly disappearing back to their common rooms. Once they got back, though, Harry and Stephen were greeted by a very pale Kevin.

'Quirrell,' the boy said. 'and Snape. There's a three headed dog on the third floor, where we're not supposed to go. They were both trying to get past it.'


AN: Good mark? Bad mark? Question mark? I'm not sure whether I've made Harry too smart in this. It's just, what with this being AU and him having two smart Potions-people as parents, and him wanting to do potions, rather than loathing it, I thought maybe I could make him smart at it. I never meant to make him super-smart. I also hope you don't mind the troll bit being a bit rushed, it's just that you already know basically what happens from the book. Only this time Dean and Stephen are there as well and they don't get caught by the teachers. I also realise that I'm doing this slightly out of order, but hey, it's all good stuff… right?

Leave me a review, pretty please?

Much love,
Cal
xxx