The Hallowe'en decorations were the same as they were her first year, with live bats fluttering about and candles floating above. She resisted the same urge she had before to reach out and grab one. With each beat of the wings from the bats, the candles flickered, but they still stayed lit. Claire wanted to know why they were always like that, never dying, but everyone she asked didn't know the answer.

Everyone around her was festive, happy for the brief break in between school, however short. Exciting how a feast can take away the worry away from people. People filed in quickly, sitting down at their tables and chatting.

The gold plates appeared once the majority of the people sat down and the feast was allowed to start. Claire ate the wonderful food, breathing between bits and talking with Fred and George, curious about the prank.

And, when she was halfway through a potato and starting the sentence of, "So when does your prank start?" Professor Quirrell burst through the door, all flustered and out of breath.

He was screaming about a troll in the dungeons. He was frantic in his motions and Claire questioned what happened to the timid man she saw earlier in the day. "Troll—in the dungeons—thought you ought to know." The professor fell after his announcement, collapsed right in front of Professor Dumbledore's chair.

Then, the uproar came. A bunch of shouting people trying to get away. Claire was frozen, staring at the passed out man and at Fred and George, who looked like they had no clue what was going on.

It took a spell from the front of Dumbledore's wand to silence everyone. After that came, "Perfects, lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately."

Percy was ready the moment the words left the headmaster's lips. He stood and said, "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 Perfect." He repeated those phrases the entire climb up to the seventh floor. Claire hung back with Fred and George who were near the end of the parade of Gryffindors.

"Fred, George, what were you thinking?!" Claire was outraged, obviously, at the twins' thoughts of it being okay to bring a troll into the school. Her thoughts of their prank were what led her to this assumption, even though it was wrong.

"What? You think we did this?" Fred hissed.

"Of course I do. You said you were taking trick or treat to the next level." Claire wanted to yell, but kept her voice down as to keep the suspicion away from the twins. She may be angry at them but Claire didn't want to see her two best friends expelled.

"We didn't, honestly. We wouldn't even know where to find a troll!" Fred was angry at her assumption. He never would bring something dangerous into the school. Well, he might, if it weren't for George keeping him from something so...drastic. Even then he'd have to find one and lure it through the big doors of the school. The redhead would get caught immediately.

"Seriously, Claire," George said, stopping her on the staircase with a hand on her shoulder. "We're not that stupid."

The look in the twin's eyes told her he wasn't lying, that she was wrong to blame the pranksters. And, so, she told them, "Okay. I believe you. I'm sorry."

Together, again as one being, they nodded and continued climbing the stairs, only to discover three out of the Gryffindors were gone. One being Ronald Weasley.

Percy wouldn't let Fred or George out of the Common Room, and stood stock still in front of the painting. "No one is allowed to leave the dormitory," the older ginger argued. "There's a troll out there and I cannot allow anymore students outside."

"Ron is out there!" was Fred's argument, and it was a valid reason. The youngest male was left out there with a troll and a bunch of teachers, along with Harry Potter and Hermione. "We have to help him."

Claire only watched as the three went toe-to-toe, only to have Percy shut him down with the facts time after time. "If you ask again, Fred, I will have you sent up to your room and you will not come out until the danger has passed."

Fred's mouth opened and closed quickly, looking for words, but failing until he turned, grabbed George and Claire and went over to sit by the fire. "I don't understand why he's not worried about Ron," Fred huffed after a long silence.

"He's with Harry, Fred, and from what I hear Hermione is a wonderful witch. I don't think we have much to worry about, really," Claire offered. But nobody said anything beside that, so Claire leaned farther into the couch, thinking things about trolls and Professor Quirrell and the warmth of the fire until, slowly, she fell asleep against the twins.

Claire jumped awake, jolted by the movement of a twin underneath her head. She stood with fists ready, as if someone was attacking her. It was from her dream, though she could hardly remember it now as she stood in front of the two sitting redheads, that caused her to become so defense.

"Claire?"

Neither of the twins spoke, and then she realized. "Ron? You're okay?"

The redhead blushed and rubbed his neck. The fire had died down a while ago, now just dying embers, and she could make out the outlines of two other figures behind him. Harry and Hermione.

"We're okay, yeah."

"What happened?"

"It was my fault, Claire," Harry said, and it was the first real thing that he had said to her in ages. "Hermione was in the bathroom crying about something Ron said in Charms, and we went after her to protect her, I guess."

"We fought the troll." Claire had no idea which one said it.

The blonde felt this uneasy feeling of being a mother, of protecting the three, but she hid it, suppressed it greatly and it disappeared. "Go upstairs," one of the twins stated, motioning toward the staircase. "You need some sleep."

"I'm glad you three are okay," Claire whispered after them, sitting back on the couch next to George. It turned out he had fallen asleep as well, using the girl who used him as a pillow. He'd woken up when Fred nudged him, and Claire felt his movements in her sleep.

They watched the dead fire for what felt like hours, one fighting sleep, until Fred said, "We'll see you in the morning, Claire."

But Claire did not move from the couch, just stared. She was twelve and felt undeniably tired. She did not want to sleep, though, not right then. "I'm sorry, again, for thinking you two brought the troll in."

It was George that answered. His voice came from the bottom of the stairs. "Go to sleep, Claire."

It took the blonde a while, but she finally made her way upstairs and collapsed in her bed.