A/N: There are some things I really need to address. They all happened last week in Europe. Two things. One, the Polish parliament banned kosher slaughter, which means Jews can no longer get kosher meat in Poland and have to have it imported from other countries, and the other, the European Union's boycott of the so-called "Israeli-occupied territories". The first thing – last time this kind of thing happened was in 1935, as part of the Nuremberg Laws, and that's eerily similar to today's situation. World's been in a bad economic situation for five and a half years and this is being passed along with other clearly anti-Semitic things happening all over Europe. The second thing – the boycott. It won't have too much effect on the West Bank settlements – and notice this only applies to Jewish settlements, not Arab towns and villages – but it will affect Jewish East Jerusalem neighborhoods and Golan Heights settlements, and it's more about the message this kind of thing conveys:
EU: Le GASP! The Israelis are slightly inconveniencing the Palestinians! Let's boycott said inconveniences!
Israel: Are you going boycott Assad for not-so-slightly inconveniencing the twenty-two million citizens of Syria, too?
EU: Assad? No, forget him. He may have killed one hundred thousand of his own citizens and displaced over one and a half million others, but at least he's not building settlements in the West Bank! You, however, may be a perfectly good democracy whose democracy is to be admired considering your lovely neighbors, who try to keep civilian casualties to a minimum, who have never discriminated between two people based on gender, race, or religion, thereby preceding the States and Switzerland, and who make sure citizens can live as well as possible as demonstrated by the high living standard in your country and you having the ninth-highest life expectancy in the world, but you build settlements and we can't have that!
So yeah, the EU is full of hypocrites. Ah well, nothing new there. What I'm more concerned about is the rising level of anti-Semitism in Europe. Things are not looking good for the Jews in Europe right now. It's getting eerily similar to the 1930s, and guess what happened then? That's right, WWII started in 1939 and the Holocaust started in 1940! May I add that WWII, or more specifically the Holocaust, was a direct result the Great Depression and how Jews were less affected by it (because we have a great mind, which South Korea figured out and decided to do the same thing we did to get it)? So yeah, there are comparisons between the current worldwide economic crisis, otherwise known as the Great Recession, and the Great Depression, and Israel, the Jewish state, was not as affected by the Great Recession as the rest of the world (because we're smart and South Korea thought it would be a good idea to imitate us). But enough of that!
Last chapter, Jonathan discovered that Harry had been beaten up by the Dursleys. Now, I know this is a much-debated question in the Potter series, and I want to make my opinion clear. I do think the Dursleys beat up Harry, as they are shown to be more than okay with Dudley beating up Harry and Dudley is always compared to Vernon, and there are many instances in the books that suggest that the Dursleys did beat Harry up – in Book Two, Aunt Petunia swung a frying pan at Harry's head for scaring Dudley and Harry was described as being trembling all over after the whole thing with Dobby and Petunia's cake. Now, something may be done about this later on in these stories, but since the Israeli system is modeled after the British system and that includes the justice system, I'm really sorry for everyone who wants the system to put a stop to that, because that's just never gonna happen. At least, not in Israel. Now, Jonathan's parents will try to push for something to be done, and I guess that eventually something will be done. That is, if Jonathan tells anyone about what Harry's been through.
Disclaimer: Do I really need to say it?
I woke up a bit late the next day, tired from last night's adventure. Dean and Seamus had already left, and Neville was still asleep. By the time I had gotten dressed and prepared the things I'd need for today's lessons, Ron and Harry were already up and dressed. We left the common room together and walked down to breakfast. While we were walking Harry told Ron and me about what he thought the dog was guarding – a package, removed from Gringotts on Harry's birthday by Hagrid, who had been accompanying him.
"It was in Vault 713, which also happened to have been broken into later that day," he said.
"Of course!" I exclaimed. "The vault had been emptied earlier that day!"
"How d'you know about that?" asked Harry.
"Hermione, Dean, and I visited Hagrid on Friday," I said. "I saw the clipping."
"Well, whatever that thing is, it's either really valuable or really dangerous," said Ron.
"Or both," said Harry.
But as all we knew for sure about the mysterious object was that it was about two inches long, as Harry had told us, we didn't have much chance of guessing what it was without further clues.
The look on Malfoy's face as we walked into the Great Hall was priceless. I wished I had a camera so I could take a picture. I had gotten over the terror of meeting the three-headed dog and thought it had been quite the adventure. I was looking forward to another nighttime stroll like that. However, neither Neville nor Hermione showed the slightest interest in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor. All Neville cared about was never going near the dog again, as he told us when we sat down.
Hermione gave me the cold shoulder throughout Friday and was outright refusing to speak to Harry and Ron. However, she'd forgiven me by Saturday. I told Dean all about our little adventure at breakfast on Saturday, and we started plotting ways to get back at Malfoy, none of which we got to carry out, as a much better opportunity arrived in the mail about a week later.
As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, my attention was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. I was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped it right over mine and Harry's heads. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel. I lifted the parcel off our heads and Harry ripped open the letter and showed it to me. It read:
DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.
It contains your new broomsticks – both Nimbus Two Thousands (just in case you need it, Mr. Alderton), but I don't want everybody knowing you've got broomsticks or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you two tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session.
Professor McGonagall
Harry was grinning from ear to ear as he handed the note to Ron to read.
"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron moaned enviously, passing me the note. "I've never even touched one."
I showed Hermione and Dean the note. Dean was staring at the parcel in awe and Hermione said, "I can't believe you two got rewarded for your stunt last week."
We all left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomsticks in private before our first class, but halfway across the entrance hall we found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the package from Harry and me (we were carrying it together) and felt it.
"Those are broomsticks," he said, throwing it back to us with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time, Potter, Alderton, first years aren't allowed them."
"It's not any old broomstick," said Ron smugly, "it's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" Ron grinned. "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."
"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle," Malfoy snapped back. "I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig."
Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow.
"Not arguing, I hope, boys?" he squeaked.
"Those two have been sent broomsticks, Professor," said Malfoy quickly.
"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at us.
"Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstance. And what models are they?"
"Nimbus Two Thousands, sir," I said, fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoy's face.
"And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that we got them," Harry added.
We headed upstairs, smothering our laughter at Malfoy's obvious rage and confusion. "Well, it's true," Harry chortled as we reached the Grand Staircase, "If he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall we wouln't be on the team..."
"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?" Hermione said, slightly amused.
"Yeah, I guess so," I grinned. "Rules are meant to be broken, after all."
"He has a point," said Dean.
"You two are such idiots," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.
We put the broomsticks under Harry's bed and went down to Defense Against the Dark Arts.
I was trying to keep my mind on my lessons, an impossible feat in itself with Defense Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic in the same day, but it kept wandering up to the dormitory where my new broomstick was lying under Harry's bed, or straying off to the Quidditch field where we'd be learning to play that night. I grabbed two pieces of bread from dinner, and then rushed upstairs with Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Dean to unwrap our broomsticks at last.
"Wow," Ron sighed, as the broomsticks rolled onto Harry's bedspread.
Now, I knew nothing about the different brooms, but I thought it was beautiful. Sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold near the top.
As seven o'clock drew nearer, Harry and I left the castle and set off in the dusk toward the Quidditch field. I'd never been inside a Quidditch field before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end. They reminded me of bubble blowers, except that they were fifty feet high.
Too eager to fly again to wait for Wood, I mounted his broomstick and kicked off from the ground. Harry quickly followed suit. I waited for Harry to reach my height and then said, "Race you to the hoops!"
"You're on," he said.
We shot off. It was a really great feeling – rollercoasters seemed dull next to this. The Nimbus Two Thousand turned wherever I wanted at my lightest touch. Harry beat me through the center hoop, but only slightly.
"Quit showing off, you two, and come down!"
Oliver Wood had arrived. He was carrying a large wooden crate under his arm. We landed next to him.
"Very nice," said Wood, his eyes glinting. "I see what McGonagall meant... you really are a naturals. I'm just going to teach you two the rules this evening, then you'll be joining team practice three times a week."
He opened the crate. Inside were four different-sized balls.
"Right," said Wood. "Now, Quidditch is easy enough to understand, even if it's not too easy to play. There are seven players on each side."
"Seven players?" I asked. "And you only have one reserve?"
"Well, our players are usually in shape," he said. "The reserve almost never gets to play in a real game – just in team practices. Anyway, three of the players are called Chasers."
"Three Chasers," Harry repeated, as Wood took out a bright red ball about the size of a football.
"This ball's called the Quaffle," said Wood. "The Chasers throw the Quaffle to each other and try and get it through one of the hoops to score a goal. Ten points every time the Quaffle goes through one of the hoops. Follow me, Alderton? Potter?"
"The Chasers throw the Quaffle and put it through the hoops to score," Harry recited.
"So sort of like basketball on broomsticks with six hoops?" I asked.
"What's basketball?" said Wood curiously.
"Never mind," said Harry quickly.
"Now, there's another player on each side who's called the Keeper - I'm Keeper for Gryffindor. I have to fly around our hoops and stop the other team from scoring."
"I'm great at that!" I said.
"Good," he said. "Maybe you can replace me after I leave."
"Three Chasers, one Keeper," said Harry. "And they play with the Quaffle. Okay, got that. So what are they for?" He pointed at the three balls left inside the box.
"I'll show you now," said Wood. "Take this."
He handed us both small clubs, a bit like a short baseball bats.
"I'm going to show you what the Bludgers do," Wood said. "These two are the Bludgers."
He showed us two identical balls, jet black and slightly smaller than the red Quaffle. I noticed that they seemed to be straining to escape the straps holding them inside the box.
"Stand back," Wood warned us. He bent down and freed one of the Bludgers. At once, the black ball rose high in the air and then pelted straight at Harry's face. Harry swung at it with the bat and sent it zigzagging away into the air - it zoomed around their heads and then shot at me. I swung my bat at it and it flew to the other side of the field, bounced off one of the hoops, and shot at Wood, who dived on top of it and managed to pin it to the ground.
"See?" Wood panted, forcing the struggling Bludger back into the crate and strapping it down safely. "The Bludgers rocket around, trying to knock players off their brooms. That's why you have two Beaters on each team - the Weasley twins are ours, though you'd make a damn good Beater too, Alderton - it's their job to protect their side from the Bludgers and try and knock them toward the other team. So - think you've got all that?"
"Three Chasers try and score with the Quaffle; the Keeper guards the goal posts," Harry said.
"The Beaters make sure the Bludgers don't bloody the players up too badly," I said, quoting Fred.
"That's an interesting way to put it, but yes," said Wood.
"Er - have the Bludgers ever killed anyone?" Harry asked.
"Right little ray of sunshine, aren't you?" I said.
Wood chuckled. "Never at Hogwarts. We've had a couple of broken jaws but nothing worse than that. Now, the last member of the team is the Seeker. That's you, Potter. And you don't have to worry about the Quaffle or the Bludgers –"
"- unless they crack my head open," said Harry.
"Keep this up and you'll break the world record for pessimism," I said dryly.
"Don't worry," said Wood. "The Weasleys are more than a match for the Bludgers – I mean, they're like a pair of human Bludgers themselves."
Wood reached into the crate and took out the fourth and last ball. Compared with the Quaffle and the Bludgers, it was tiny, about the size of a large walnut. It was bright gold and had little fluttering silver wings.
"This," said Wood, "is the Golden Snitch, and it's the most important ball of the lot. It's very hard to catch because it's so fast and difficult to see. It's the Seeker's job to catch it. You've got to weave in and out of the Chasers, Beaters, Bludgers, and Quaffle to get it before the other team's Seeker, because whichever Seeker catches the Snitch wins his team an extra hundred and fifty points, so they nearly always win. That's why Seekers get fouled so much. A game of Quidditch only ends when the Snitch is caught, so it can go on for ages - I think the record is three months, they had to keep bringing on substitutes so the players could get some sleep."
"That sounds good, but you'd need to get six more reserves in that case," I said.
"Well, that's it," he said. "Any questions?"
Harry shook his head and I said, "No, I'm good." I understood everything, it was just a matter of keeping track who I was replacing when.
"We won't practice with the Snitch yet," said Wood, carefully shutting it back inside the crate, "it's too dark, we might lose it. Let's try you two out with a few of these."
He pulled a bag of ordinary golf balls out of his pocket and a few minutes later, we were up in the air, Wood throwing the golf balls as hard as he could in every direction for Harry and me to catch. Harry and I were almost even, and Wood was delighted. After half an hour, night had really fallen and we couldn't carry on.
"That Quidditch Cup'll have our name on it this year," said Wood happily as we trudged back up to the castle. "I wouldn't be surprised if you two turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn't gone off chasing dragons."
We practiced Quidditch three times a week. Harry and I fit in great with the rest of the team, and Wood admitted that it having an extra Chaser and Seeker for practices made his life a whole lot easier. The lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that we had mastered the basics, and before I knew it, it was Halloween. I woke up on Halloween morning to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought we were ready to start making objects fly, something everyone had been dying to try since they'd seen my ability. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. My partner was Fay Dunbar, Dean's was Neville. Ron, however, was to be working with Hermione and it was hard to tell whether Ron or Hermione was angrier about this. Those two couldn't stand each other.
"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too - never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."
It was quite easy, although I suspected that had more to do with the fact that I had practice without my wand. Flitwick, of course, was very pleased and gave me two points for Gryffindor. Fay, however, wasn't as lucky, and I noticed she was slightly exaggerating her movements. I gently corrected her and she managed to do it. Dean and Neville weren't doing so well – Neville had somehow turned their feather into a chicken, which strutted out of the classroom. Even worse were Ron and Hermione.
"Wingardium leviosa!" shouted Ron, waving his long arms like a windmill.
"Stop, stop, stop," snapped Hermione. "You're going to take someone's eye out. Besides, you're saying it wrong – it's levi-o-sa, not leviosar!"
"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled.
Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand, and said, "Wingardium leviosa!"
Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above our heads.
"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Another two points to Gryffindor!"
Suddenly, there was an explosion. Seamus had tried to cast the spell and instead had blown up his and Harry's feather, along with his face.
Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of the class. "It's only three people in the entire school can stand her, and I bet even they're just trying to be nice," I heard him saying to Harry as we pushed our way into the crowded corridor, "she's a nightmare, honestly."
"Hey!" I said angrily. "First of all, Hermione's been my friend for six years and second, that's no way to talk to a person! You okay, Hermione?"
There was no answer. I looked around and saw Hermione's bushy hair disappearing in the crowd.
"Well done, Ron," I snapped.
"What did I do?" said Ron, looking a bit uncomfortable. "She must've noticed that you two and Neville are her only friends."
"Just shut up," I snarled.
Hermione didn't turn up for the next class and we didn't see her all afternoon. On our way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, I asked Parvati and Lavender if they'd seen Hermione. They told me that she was crying in the girls' bathroom and wanted to be left alone.
"Happy, Ron?" I asked angrily.
"What?" he said awkwardly.
A moment later we entered the Great Hall, which was decorated for Halloween. 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, which had been put in Jack-O-Lanterns, stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.
"You know," I said loudly to Dean, intending for Ron to hear me, "it's really a shame Hermione's hiding in the bathroom and missing the feast."
"Stop it!" Ron said uncomfortably.
"Why should I?" I said. "You're the reason she's hiding in the bathroom!"
"Just shut it, you two!" said Harry. "You're getting on my nerves!"
I was just about to retort when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. We all 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 an 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!"
"We have to tell Hermione," I told Dean.
"Right," he said and we slipped out of the line while a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs jostled past and hurried towards the girls' bathroom. As we got closer, we got a foul stench of a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean.
"Can you smell something?" I heard someone say. It was Ron.
"Hello," I said coolly, startling him.
"Jonathan! Dean!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"
"Rescuing our friend, who's only stuck in this mess in the first place because you're a git," I said.
"I'm not –"
"Quiet!" Harry snapped. "Something's coming."
I could hear 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 toward them. We 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 gray, 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 looking like it was thinking (the look did not suit it at all), then slouched slowly into the room.
"The keys in the lock," Harry muttered. "We could lock it in."
"No, you dolt!" I said. "Hermione's in there!"
Dean pulled the door open and we ran inside.
Hermione 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.
"Confuse it!" Harry said desperately to the rest of us, and, seizing a tap, I threw it as hard as he could against the wall.
The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw me. It hesitated, then made for me instead, lifting its club as it went.
"Oi, pea-brain!" yelled Dean from the other side of the chamber, and he and Ron threw a metal pipes at it. The troll didn't even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout toward Ron instead, giving me time to run around it.
"Come on, run, run!" Harry yelled at Hermione and we both tried to pull her toward the door, but she couldn't move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror.
The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started toward Ron, who was nearest and had no way to escape.
Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind and his wand went straight up one of the troll's nostrils. Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry clinging on desperately; any second, the troll was going to rip him off or catch him a terrible blow with the club.
Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright; Dean and Ron were staring; I pulled out my own wand and suddenly had a brilliant idea. Remembering what Flitwick had said, I swished and flicked, but said, "Wingardium leviofa!"
The troll was suddenly knocked back by an unseen force. Harry jumped off it and landed by its side. A humongous buffalo fell out of the ceiling on top of the troll.
The buffalo got off the troll and went out the door. The troll, still dazed, was trying to get up and Ron shouted, "Wingardium leviosa!"
The troll's club was lifted out of its hand. With Ron's wand guiding it, it bonked the troll on the head, and it collapsed.
It was Hermione who spoke first.
"Is it - dead?"
"I don't think so," said Harry, "I think it's just been knocked out."
He bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.
"Urgh - troll boogers," he said disgustedly.
He wiped it on the troll's trousers.
A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the five of us look up.
They hadn't realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars, and they definitely saw the giant buffalo if they were passing by. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart. Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Ron, Harry, Dean, and me. I had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white. We were definitely in trouble.
"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. We looked at each other. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory? And why is there a buffalo here?"
Snape gave Harry a swift, piercing look. Harry looked at the floor. Then a small voice came out of the shadows.
"Please, Professor McGonagall - they were looking for me."
"Miss Granger!"
Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last.
"I went looking for the troll because I - I thought I could deal with it on my own - you know, because I've read all about them."
Ron dropped his wand. Hogwarts was full of impossibilities – first Hermione didn't know a thing about the Wizarding world, and now she was telling a downright lie to a teacher.
"If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Dean threw things at it, Harry stuck his wand up its nose, Jonathan brought the buffalo down on it, and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."
I tried to look as though this story wasn't new to me. I succeeded. I was a good liar – not that I lied much.
"Well - in that case..." said Professor McGonagall, staring at the five of us, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"
Hermione hung her head. We were all speechless. Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending she had, to get them out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started handing out sweets.
"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."
Hermione left.
Professor McGonagall turned to the rest of us.
"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."
We hurried out of the chamber and didn't speak at all until we had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else.
"We should have gotten more than twenty points," Ron grumbled.
"Fifteen, you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's."
"Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admitted. "Mind you, we did save her."
"She might not have needed saving if you weren't such a git," I reminded him. "You should apologize."
"Right," he said.
We had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"Pig snout," I said and we entered.
The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for us. There was a very embarrassed pause. Then, none of us looking at each other, we all said "Thanks," and hurried off to get plates.
But from that moment on, Hermione, Dean, and I became much closer to Harry and Ron. There are some things you can't share without ending up becoming close, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.
A/N: Don't you just love trick spells?
Review or a buffalo will fall out of the sky on you.