Miracle

During class, she couldn't stop thinking about George Weasley. How kind he was, despite how much trouble he and Fred get into with their tricks and pranks. She couldn't understand why anyone would show her that sort of kindness due to her last name. Especially one of the Weasleys. Granted, Ron wasn't too bad. Not yet, at least. But it was only the second week of term. A lot could change in a month. And yes, it did storm quite nastily that night.

Chapter 10: Halloween Horrors

A lot did change in a month. As the term started to pick up speed in the year, Meadow soon realized that it was towards the end of October. Her notebook was filling up, detailing her days and thoughts; questions that came about which some had been answered during classes, homework, or tea with her father. Some questions she wanted to ask her mother exclusively. Meadow and Daphne had grown almost inseparable. The two fast friends were seen walking the halls, sitting together during class when possible, the library working on schoolwork, and the common room holed up in the corner behind the girls' staircase. Usually, the girls were joined by Theodore, but if he wasn't around them, he was with Gabriel and Bhu off somewhere. The three boys joined the two girls during the times they were studying; Meadow was the go-to girl for potions help. She didn't mind at all. Potions was one thing that Meadow excelled in and found to be relatively easy. She also had an easy time in Transfiguration as well, due to her burning interest in the subject. Meadow liked that her friends would come to her for help. In fact, it worked out quite well, as Bhu found herbology to be his talent. Gabriel loved charms, Daphne was the best at Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Theodore. . . well, Theo wasn't terrible at anything, he was by no means an amazing student, but he was an overall good student and friend. The group did well together in their studying and homework. As each one would lend a hand during times another was struggling.

During the times Meadow and Daphne weren't together, Meadow was seen with Shane, Harry, and Ron. Shane and Meadow were back on speaking terms. Shane gave her mixed readings of him, one moment he would be wary of her and the next moment sticking up for her. It was quite difficult to handle for Meadow, and often, she found herself missing their friendship. As for the rest of the Gryffindors she had made friends with, her and Harry got on very well. Their friendship seemed flawless and effortless. The two had a strong bond over his success in Quidditch, he received a broom a few weeks ago. A Nimbus Two-Thousand came by owls. Despite Meadow's best efforts to get Draco off the Gryffindor's case, he started a "heated discussion" about how Harry would most certainly be expelled over the broom. Professor Flitwick stepped in, announcing happily that Harry had special permission to have a broom, causing Draco's jaw to drop in horror, rage, and confusion. Harry started lessons with the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, Oliver Wood, to help him understand the game better and learn certain plays.

Her friendship with George Weasley, seemed to be on his terms. Though, since he was an upperclassman and they hadn't spoken more than three times, Meadow was hesitant to go up and chat with the redhead. Occasionally when their eyes would meet, he would smile at her and give a little nod in passing. Yet, he hadn't sought her out lately. Meadow figured that George had his reasons for not speaking with her lately; trying not to think too much about it. On the other hand, a younger Weasley had grown to not like Meadow as much anymore. Ron would make awful faces whenever she'd approach. Not directly calling her anything or saying anything to her. But Meadow would hear "Why do you even talk to her?" or "She's probably just as horrible as Snape," once she would bid Harry or Shane a goodbye and be a few steps away. It brought tears to her eyes and deter her from speaking to the Gryffindors for a few days before she'd gather up the courage again.

And, of course, there were times she'd chat with the second-year, Terence Higgs, occasionally. Usually when Theo and Daphne were off for a walk around the grounds, Bhu and Gabriel would be playing Wizard's Chess, which left Meadow in the corner of the stairs, alone. There were times she didn't mind being alone, since being an only child raised mostly by Ms. Kashmire, she had a lot of alone time anyway. However, Terence did leave his own friends to come check-in with her. The two formed a solid friendship, or at least, Meadow thought it was. As Terence knew just about everything about Meadow. With the exceptions of the three-headed-dog guarding a trapped door and Meadow's mother in the hospital.

Though all the navigating Meadow did though classes, friends between houses, homework, and spending time with her father, there was one thing she didn't forget about. Shane was ill again. When he came back from the hospital wing, he looked frail and fatigued, just like the previous month. In her journal, Meadow jotted down: Shane. Tuesday, October 22- gone to hospital wing at noon; Wednesday, October 23- out all day; Thursday, October 24- out all day; Friday, October 25- back at noon. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary beforehand. He refused visitors this time. Madam Pomfrey stopped me from entering the Hospital Wing more than three feet before she promptly told me to turn around as Shane was resting. I will continue to try and find out more.

Meadow put down her quill and watched as the paper soaked up the ink, it was rather satisfying to watch. The black liquid met with the soft mutated wood. And then, drying to forever uphold the words she wrote. Once she was sure the words had fully dried, she snapped the book shut and put it off on her nightstand by her bed. Looking around at the dormitory, Hestia, Tracey, and Daphne all had their curtains drawn around their beds, indicating they were sleeping. Tracey's light snores could be heard from beyond those green curtains. As Meadow climbed underneath her covers for the night, Bee jumped onto her bed, mewing softly. Meadow took a deep breath in, the air was crisp in her dormitory, but not uncomfortably cold. It was the right amount of warmth and freshness that Meadow adored. Her favorite season was autumn- the leaves changing colors, the air outside had a nice nip to it, it wasn't overly hot or cold, and of course, Quidditch season would begin shortly. As her head hit her pillow, her eyes were still open, and she draped her fingers over the young lynx's soft fur. Bee was one of the only living beings that could bring her comfort like Meadow assumed most mothers brought to their children. Soon after Bee's purrs began, Meadow floated into sleep.

-.-.-

Autumn wasn't all that had excited Meadow, with the basics being covered, her lessons were becoming more interesting, well, except for History of Magic. After the first lesson, Meadow, to, fell victim of the stuffy classroom and Professor Binns' monotone voice that just put everyone to sleep. Well, there was the environment, however, Meadow swore the last time she tuned into a lecture, Binns was still on about the Gargoyle Strike of 1911, and it had been two months of this bit of history. Alas, there was no deterring Binns from straying away from every little detail or even paying any attention to the class at all. Where those who were able to stay awake would be playing Exploding Snap or eating during samples of sweets that had been snuck in from the upperclassmen.

Herbology had surprised Meadow when Professor Sprout announced they would be learning Incendio, a fire spell. When explained, the Fire-Making Spell was a charm to conjure a jet of flames to set things on fire, as well as to deter dangerous plants from attacking. Despite Meadow being glad that she was placed with the Hufflepuff, Justin Finch-Fletchley, during the first week; the kind student later grew wary of Meadow and focused specifically on the classwork, much to the disappointment of Meadow. She had hoped that showing the boy she was someone not to fear would impact him to not allow her father's reputation to ink onto hers. Alas, it did not work as Meadow had planned. And Finch-Fletchley, had turned slightly cool towards her, not engaging in conversation or responding, "This doesn't focus on Herbology, so let's get back on topic. . ."

During Transfiguration, it was still slightly bland, as Professor McGonagall drilled the Transfiguration alphabet into the first years. She had a chalkboard behind her with the 26 characters translated from the English alphabet. Every morning, however, it was a clean slate, as they knew they were to be quizzed on the alphabet, each time frame growing smaller and smaller the further they got into the term. McGonagall wanted the transfiguration alphabet to be second nature, and thankfully for Meadow, due to her interest in the subject, had no problem memorizing and remembering each character. Once the quiz was completed, McGonagall would continue on with their lecture or practice. Meadow enjoyed the practice days, where McGonagall would have small objects laid upon the desks and direct them to change the object into another one. Much like the match to needle within the first week, now, they had gotten to a chess piece transformed to a small pebble. There was no letting up on homework from Professor McGonagall. She firmly believed that the material for Transfiguration was not just to be memorized, but to be fully and completely understood in order to master transfiguration.

And that was only part of what the first years had moved forward onto. As the next week flew by, Meadow's spirit seemed to depart. The excitement of fall was wearing off and the amount of looks and whispers about her bothered her more. Those looks and whispers were something she still had difficulties with. Especially since her father was known to favor the Slytherins, it seemed that most people, even in her house, still assumed that he would show her more special treatment. Despite being scrutinized more harshly, as demonstrated that first week of term, it did not deter people from that assumption. She wished she could shake off the feeling of guilt and resentment she had towards her father; particularly since living at school with him had brought the two closer together.

Professor Snape's critique of Meadow that Halloween morning surely did get to her more. She woke up to the castle wafting baked pumpkin throughout the corridors, slightly more sensitive on this day, for no reason other than just being more delicate. In double potions with the Gryffindors, the first years were brewing the Forgetfulness Potion. A very easy beginner potion that only consisted of four different ingredients and two parts of six steps. A simple potion. One that was very easy to remember, and not forget.

Meadow and Draco had become quite the pair during this class. As Daphne and Theodore were together and Bhu and Gabriel were partners as well. Flora and Hestia. Tracey and Parkinson. Sally-Anne and Millicent. Crabbe and Goyle. Which left Sebastian Daley, Niles Hanley, and Blaise Zabini being a group of three; which those three got on like the Giant Squid in water. She didn't pay much attention to or know the whole house of the Gryffindors to know who paired off with who; but she did know there was a group of three within the Gryffindors as well. She believed it was Seamus Finnigan, Neville, and Dean Thomas—she knew Neville was in that group, however, the other two boys she wasn't sure of, but thought that's who they were. Which the two groups of three preferred to not be paired with one of the other houses. Meadow wouldn't have minded being paired with a Gryffindor, however, her father would not have allowed for it and with the two groups of three, it made it easier to pick on the Gryffindors.

As said before, Meadow and Draco were able to become great partners at potions, mostly because Draco was not dimwitted and wasn't as atrocious of a partner as some of the other students Meadow could have been put with. Meadow prepped for the potion, adding in the generic starter potion as Draco went to gather the ingredients of Lethe River Water, Valerian sprigs, Standard Ingredient, and dried Mistletoe Berries.

Since her partner still wasn't back, Meadow started to copy down the blackboard instructions.

Part 1:

Add two drops of Lethe River Water to cauldron

Gently heat for 20 seconds

Add two Valerian sprigs to cauldron

Stir three times, clockwise

Wave your wand

Leave to brew and

Draco arrived back to the desk, he placed the ingredients down as Meadow sorted them out by order. The paled hair boy grabbed a dropper and stuck it in the jar of deep blue liquid. Meadow eyed him attentively as he started the potion, squirting two drops of the Lethe River Water into the cauldron.

"Can you heat it? You're better at controlling the heat than I am," Draco murmured softly to her as he replaced the stopper to the jar.

Meadow nodded and felt her magic pulse through her veins slowly and down her arms to her fingers. Gently she lit the fire with her wand, looking at the watch on her right wrist, and watched as the second hand moved twenty times. She took the heat off the cauldron and Draco put in two sprigs of valerian from a bushel he had separated earlier. As the flowers melted away into the mixture, the deep blue color had changed to a light purple. Meadow entered the ladle into the liquid slowly, not to make a splash or unexpected swirl.

"Three times, clockwise," Draco said to her, looking down at her notes.

She nodded in response and followed the directions given. She took the ladle out and then waved her wand over the cauldron. It hissed and let off a pink steam, signaling it was time to let it brew for about forty-five to sixty minutes. Draco looked at her and she nodded again, answering his question to if it was right.

Meadow returned to her notes and added the last bit.

Part 1:

Add two drops of Lethe River Water to cauldron

Gently heat for 20 seconds

Add two Valerian sprigs to cauldron

Stir three times, clockwise

Wave your wand

Leave to brew and return in 45-60 minutes

Part 2:

Add two measures of Standard Ingredient to the mortar

Add 4 mistletoe berries to the mortar

Crush into a medium-fine powder using the pestle

Add two pinches of the crushed mixture to your cauldron

Stir five times, anti-clockwise

Wave your wand to complete the potion

With her notes of the instructions now complete, Meadow glanced at the watch upon her wrist again. Even with taking her time only fifteen minutes had passed. She let out a loud breath of annoyance; even with preparing the standard ingredient and mistletoe berries it wouldn't have been enough time passed to return to the potion. Chewing her lip she watched as her father made his rounds towards the Gryffindors. He avoided Meadow and Draco until the end of class where their potion was complete.

"Are you excited for all the sweets tonight?" Meadow asked Draco quietly as the two watched Professor Snape rip into poor Neville yet again.

"Of course, but nothing will be better than the fudge my mother sends me," he responded smugly. "Are you?"

"I think so, it'll be different this year." Meadow said as her eyes trailed on Neville's hazel eyes and blonde hair. His bottom lip was shaking, along with the rest of his body trembling from fear. Meadow's heart gave a small pang, she liked the boy. And watching her father be so mean to a boy, who the two Snapes saw almost every time at St Mungo's to visit his own parents. . . it was horrible. "Normally, I'd go out, wearing a costume, with the Lupins, and collect candy from neighbors."

"Sounds awful," Draco made a face, sticking out his tongue.

"It was actually quite fun," Meadow replied nonchalantly, distracted by Neville's tears forming in his eyes from being reamed out for being an awful potions maker.

"I still can't believe your father made you go to Muggle school, and partake in Muggle stuff," Draco sassed, frowning at the Potions Master.

"I didn't mind," Meadow said, still distracted as she watched her father move onto Sally-Anne and Millicent, his face looked extremely unhappy with the potion the two girls had created. "Taught me a lot about the Muggle world. Besides, we're all supposed to learn how to avoid drawing attention to ourselves when we're in the Muggle world. No matter what our opinions on Muggles." Her voice was soft and distant, which is part of why Meadow wasn't becoming irritated or enraged at Draco's condescending tone. Her partner could tell that she wasn't fully engaged in the conversation and let it drop. Allowing time for Meadow to collect her thoughts as Draco studied her thoughtfully.

Eventually, Meadow looked down at her wrist, the minutes that had passed gave her enough time start preparing the standard ingredient herb mix and mistletoe berries for the second part. Two measures of the standard ingredient and four berries were added to the mortar, where Meadow crushed them into a medium-fine powder with the pestle. When she got the berries to the consistency she wanted them at, it reminded her of a pink and pepper speckled, rocky sand-like material. There were fine grains along with a few chunkier pieces.

It was time to start part two of the Forgetfulness Potion. Meadow watched as her partner added two pinches of the mixture from the mortar to the cauldron. She added the ladle in slowly and Draco gave her the instruction to stir anti-clockwise five times before waving her wand in a thought-bubble type manor to complete the potion. Of course, she didn't actually know the memory charm and the Potions professor had to officially complete the potion; however, Professor Snape wanted everyone to get in the habit of completing the potion despite not having the proper knowledge or power for certain spells and charms.

Before Meadow or Draco could raise their hands, Professor Snape was there casting the charm to complete the potion. He inspected it, his pointer finger resting just below his nose and his thumb pushing up under his chin. "Needs improvement," the potions master said finally. "The orange color is off, meaning the whole potion is not as effective as a properly brewed potion. Instead of waiting only 45 minutes, as I know you two did, you should have waited until the potion was passed adolescence and turned into a proper yellow-green."

As Meadow's ears took in her father's critique, his voice grew harsher and colder, echoing in her head. Disappointment slammed through her body like a wave crashing into a rocky cliff. "I suspect your Standard Ingredient and mistletoe berry mixture was not nearly a medium-fine powder as instructed. Let me see it," Professor Snape continued and put his hand out for the mortar.

It felt like bugs squirming under Meadow's skin as the embarrassment of handing over the mortar set in. The eyes from some students burned into Meadow, and her face became hot. Forcing herself to look up at her father digging through the mortar, grumbling and grunting at it, Meadow felt enormous pressure building in her head.

"Who made this?" her father said, slowly as he glared at the two.

"I did, sir," Meadow replied quietly.

"What was that?" Professor Snape said harshly, his voice sounding like drums banging in her ears. "Who made this?"

"I did, Sir," Meadow said again, louder this time.

His black eyes bore into hers. Almost identical, apart from the few specks of yellow Meadow was gifted from her mother's eccentric green eyes. "This is the worst medium-fine powder I have seen you make. It's atrocious." He drew out atrocious with a slow, drawn-out sneer.

As if Meadow couldn't sink any lower, her face continued to grow red with embarrassment. All eyes were now on her, the whole classroom was taking in that Meadow's potion work was below pristine. Persisting to rub salt on the wound, Professor Snape went on, "It seems like you forgot how to make a potion, Miss Snape. Clean up this wreck and get out of here."

"Yes, Sir," Meadow replied, her voice slightly cracked as she held back tears. She didn't expect to be great at everything, but she knew her potions. Regardless of her Forgetfulness Potion wasn't up to par, as Meadow knew she had been distracted today due, it wasn't a terrible potion. It wasn't her best potion she'd made, but it was by no means as atrocious as her father made it out to be.

She looked down, avoiding the gaze that was on her, knowing that everyone watched the brutal exchange between father and daughter. Meadow felt the water build in her eyes as she took in the sunset orange liquid. Taking a deep breath in, she reached to pick up her cauldron. Except, Draco already had his fingers grasping it. His steely grey eyes bore into hers with neither pity or sympathy, rather understanding was upon his face. He nodded at her, signaling that he'd take care of the clean-up.

Meadow blinked at him and raised her eyebrows, questioning that if it was okay for her to leave. "Go," Draco whispered as he lifted the cauldron off the table to bring it over to the dumping area. She didn't need to be told twice, Meadow grabbed her notes, stuffed them in her backpack, and darted out of the classroom. Tears immediately spilled out of her eyes.

Meadow knew the easiest place to go was the dormitories, but she didn't want to be found. She longed to race up to her bed and cuddle with Bee. However, she felt a pull towards the towers. A sort of comfort pulled her out of the dungeons, to the ground floor—her tears were pouring faster, over her cheeks as she climbed up the steps two at a time. She felt like racing all the way up to one of the towers, and laying out in the wind and sun—

A noise from the left of her came, and she darted up to the first floor down the corridor, and into the lavatory. It was empty, for now. She fell against the sinks on the wall, across from the lavatory stalls; the stone solid and cool against her back. Meadow sank to her bottom and curled her knees up to her chest. Her tears became louder, and she choked out sobs that rumbled her body. She shook, letting her wails echo along the stone walls. Her sobs her violent, shaking her whole body, salvia running down her chin and snot gathering under her nose.

-.-.-

When the small girl was able to regain her composure, she wasn't sure how much time had passed. Meadow did know one thing, that she wasn't ready to come out of the bathroom just yet. She turned on a sink, water rushed out of it. Meadow cupped the water, it was cold, but she didn't care. Putting her face close by the sink she splashed it, washing off her cheeks and rinsing her eyes.

Just as Meadow was about to open the door, it opened violently to a girl with bushy hair racing by, not noticing the Slytherin girl and threw herself into the closet stall, locking it with a clink. Frozen to her spot, Meadow listened to the girl heave her own sobs. Torn between wanting to comfort the girl and leaving unnoticed, Meadow raised her hands, lifting one higher than the other and then lifting the other higher and lowering the first one—like a scale weighing out objects.

Signing, her sensitive side won, quietly she crept closer to the stall, making sure she was unseen. And sat down, leaning against the wall about halfway between the toilets and door. This bathroom was possibly one of the smallest at Hogwarts. Still not tiny, as it had eight stalls across the back wall, eight sinks lining up on the front wall, and a large space between the two; however, it was one that Meadow thought to be the smallest in size so far, excluding the dormitory bathrooms.

As Meadow waited for the girl to let out her pain, she studied the bathroom details. Never once Meadow thought about how different this one was compared to another. Nevertheless, this bathroom had half walls filled with white tile, the other half a tan stone like the rest of the corridors in the castle. Silver pluming exposed from the sinks, twisting and turning in a variety of different ways before disappearing into the concrete floor. Across the middle of the floor, a large, rectangular drain ran from left to right, separating the stalls and sinks. Large, blackish-bronze torch holders had massive flames illuminating, which lit up the lavatory quite well; there was only one small window upon the wall Meadow was leaning on. This window, despite its small size, was difficult to miss, as a large arch had been carved out of the wall, giving a small lip of a step into the archway for roughly a foot-sized area to stand directly next to the stained-glass window. It was a beautiful and quirky bit of architecture within the bathroom. Over the sinks were different shaped mirrors: one tiny, one round with a thick gold border, a rectangle one that fit over two sinks, a square one with a wood frame, one mirror was cracked in the corner, a diamond shaped one, and one sink was missing a mirror. Reflecting in the mirrors, the toilets had large wood encasings around them individually, painted in a deep green color.

The girl in the stall had started to catch her breath and compose herself over her tears. Unsure of how to start the conversation, Meadow cleared her throat as the girl blew her nose.

"Hell—Hello?" the girl's voice asked, it was Granger, the voice confirmed it. Meadow suspected at the hair that brushed passed her, but no one could forget that know-it-all voice blurting out answers.

"Hellu," Meadow responded. "Are you alright?"

"I don't see how it matters to you," Granger responded with a harsh laugh. "Come to rub it in my face more that I've got no friends, and everyone calls me a know-it-all nightmare?"

"Would it be a nice surprise if I said I haven't come to do all that?" the blonde replied, wrapping her robe closer around her. Granger's sharpness took Meadow off guard, and suddenly she felt quite cold from the air.

"I don't know if I'd believe you. I haven't made any friends since I've been here because I know all the answers. Why would anyone be nice to me now that I've come crying into a lavatory?"

"Maybe some of those who tease you are just intimidated by how smart you are," Meadow shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe some of those find it difficult to relate to someone who never gets anything wrong. Or perhaps it may be the tone of voice used. . . I know I always get irritated whenever someone talks to me like I'm stupid; my temper becomes really short with people who have that posture and voice of 'I'm better than you.'"

Meadow feel silent as Granger mauled over what she said. "I suppose that's true," Granger said finally. "I don't mean to; it just comes out that way."

"Never said you did it on purpose," Meadow said, hoping it didn't come across that way. She still felt bad that Granger was getting picked on and bullied to the point of crying in a bathroom. "Maybe it's just something you try and keep in mind. You shouldn't hide how brilliant you are, because you are probably the smartest witch your age."

"All this stuff excites me; I came from a bland homelife compared to all this stuff at Hogwarts." Granger ignored Meadow's compliment, "The spells, brewing potions, learning charms. . . even Professor's Binns' History is intriguing to me." She laughed and Meadow joined in.

"That's got to be the worst class of our core classes," Meadow responded teasing. "What's your favorite class then?"

Granger fell silent again, thinking about it, "I'd have to go with Transfiguration for now, but I know we are allowed elective classes our third year. What about you?"

"Transfiguration is so challenging," Meadow smiled to herself, "I love it. I usually enjoy potions the best. . . but today was awful. . ."

The two girls were quite during a pregnant pause. Granger spoke up, "Professor Snape make it awful today?"

"One could say that. . . he's usually like that though, which sucks. I wish he'd be a bit more optimistic and kinder; I think he'd find that students would try harder for him and become more passionate about his class," Meadow replied, tears threatening to form in her eyes again. "I've watched him go off on other students before—feeling guilty during and after because I didn't stand up to my—my head of house. Professor Snape just never has gone off on me before."

"I assume that's what brought you into this bathroom?" Granger asked, hesitantly.

"Assume what you wish," Meadow replied, wiping off her under-eyes. "That's what everyone else does and judges based off that." She was being careful on her whining and complaining, but it felt so wonderful to finally tell someone all her troubles.

"I understand," Granger responded distantly, thinking about her own pain and reputation among students.

"Not exactly, but I know you mean well," Meadow said quietly.

"I was trying not to pry too much," the Gryffindor shrugged, her voice light and soft.

"Shall I assume you know who I am," Meadow stated.

"Only if I assume you know who I am, then yes," Granger replied. The air around Meadow cleared, it was nice to not have to face someone about the problems the two girls were talking about. "That was a brutal potions lesson today. . . I caught a glimpse of your potion before Malfoy dumped it. It was the best one in the class, better than mine. He shouldn't have spoken to you like that."

"He was trying to make me do better next time," Meadow said, defending her father poorly—she wasn't nearly as fierce without a hothead.

"That doesn't give him a good reason to embarrass you—"

The door opened, and two girls from Gryffindor walked in. "—in front of the whole Slytherin and Gryffindor class," Granger whispered, insisting that Meadow's father was in the wrong. "Professor Snape—"

"Hermione? Is that you?" One of the girls asked, she had almond shaped, rich brown eyes, and straight, black hair pulled back into a low ponytail.

"Parvati?" Hermione's voice questioned.

"Yes," Parvati responded as she entered one of the stalls. Her uniform was prim and proper; her robe swished behind her as she shut the door. "Are you going to come back? It's almost time for the feast."

"No," Hermione said quickly, her voice starting to be strained from the tears that probably grew in her eyes again. "I don't want to see anyone right now."

"What's Snape doing here then?" The second girl asked from looking at herself in the mirror, her round, blue eyes met Meadow's black ones. Meadow's eyes narrowed at the Gryffindor. She looked like a doll; those dark blonde braids had four small, lavender bows in her hair, her pale skin was very fair and natural pink cheeks.

"Don't worry, I won't do anything to Granger," Meadow spat out.

"Meadow's fine," Hermione's voice was high pitched. "Really, you two go enjoy the feast."

Parvati had opened the stall door and went over to wash her hands. "You sure, Hermione?"

"I'm sure!"

The two Gryffindors looked at each other, shrugged, gave one last look at Meadow, and headed out of the bathroom.

"Are they gone. . .?" Hermione asked, her voice small and shaking.

"Yes," Meadow replied. "They seem just peachy."

"More like they only care about gossip and boys," Hermione responded her voice slightly annoyed.

Meadow let out a breath, "Well, they sounded like they were concerned about you with me."

"That's just because you're a Slytherin and Snape. . ." Hermione said. "Anyway, Professor Snape, as great of a potion master as he is, is awful at motivating students to work harder and better for him. And obliterating his daughter's potion is no way to help others. Everyone knows how talented you are at potions—you have a gift, don't disagree—and for the best student to get chewed out like you did. . . well, now Neville is worried he's going to be poisoned next time."

The Slytherin wasn't sure if Granger's speech was supposed to be uplifting or not, Meadow was torn between feeling worse about Neville and feeling good that someone else understood the frustration she had with her father. Her face felt hot from the attention on her, especially since Hermione was the one who was just crying last. "Why help me? Why be nice to be? I'm both a Slytherin and someone who had been rude to you since the train ride." Meadow changed the topic.

"You were here when I ran in. You waited for me to finish up feeling sorry for myself. You asked me if I was alright. You stayed and talked to me, cheered me up—until I accidently brought up potions—"

"I brought up potions, we were talking about our favorite subject—"

"But I asked you what yours was, therefore, my fault—"

"It is not—"

"Anyway!" Hermione said loudly, stopping the two from bickering and interrupting each other to take the blame of who did what. "Despite me snapping on you from my own problems, you having your own pain to tend to, being in different houses. . .and whatever else had happened. You stayed and talked to me. You shown me the first bit of kindness at Hogwarts from another student since I walked onto that train."

"Well, to be fair, you were a bit arrogant," Meadow added.

Hermione fell silent and Meadow's heart immediately started to race, and her face heated up. She shouldn't have said that. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—" but her words were covered up by the Gryffindor laughing.

Nervously, Meadow cracked a smile. Before long, she had joined the other girl with laughing. "Yes, I suppose that's a bit true," Hermione finally choked out from her fit of laughter. "I never thought I'd be that person, but I became one."

"Ah, well, I set you straight now; you don't have to be that person anymore," Meadow teased Hermione, hoping that it was well consumed.

"Do you mind if I come out now?" Hermione asked, and Meadow knew that the two had become somewhat of friends.

"I suppose so."

Hermione unlocked the door, still wiping tears from her face, instead of rushing over to the sink to wash off, she barrowed over towards Meadow, throwing her arms around the smaller girl and hugging her. Shocked, Meadow froze before instinctually wrapping her arms around Hermione, who was crouched funny as Meadow was still seated against the wall.

"Thank you," Hermione said stiffly as she let Meadow go and stood up.

Meadow followed suit and stood as well, walking over to the large rectangle mirror and peering at her reflection in it. "If you ever need another vent session, let me know. This has been one of the best talks I've had," she said to Hermione as the girl went over to the sinks to wash off her face and hands; it wasn't necessarily a lie. Meadow did have a good time chatting with the other girl, especially since Hermione let her whine about her own day after Meadow had managed to cheer her up. Daphne was by far Meadow's closest friend here, but Daphne tended to make things about herself without realizing it. There were a few times where Daphne was able to empathize and let Meadow vent, but it was different. She wasn't sure if Daphne did it out of being a friend, or from being taught to listen and not interrupt.

"Same time?" Hermione was able to joke.

"Can't say no to that," Meadow jested back, cracking a smirk.

The door opened just as Hermione had finished drying her hands. A horrific stench filled Meadow's nose, a mixture of old, moldy socks and an overrun, outdated, sewer splattered public toilet that no one wanted to go in unless it was an emergency. The girls froze in their places, Hermione's face in shock as she stared right at the thing and Meadow's finger paused in lifting up her eyelashes out of her eye. Looking in the mirrors, Meadow was able to glimpse the source of the awful smell. Twelve feet tall, dull, granite grey skin, massive bumps along its lumpy boulder-like body, with a small head perched on top with large ears. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horn-like feet. It's arms were massive, roughly the width of an elephant's legs that nearly dragged on the ground they were so long, and within his hand, he held a huge wooden club, which scrapped the floor with a nasty "EEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRR."

"Oh shite," Meadow whispered, still frozen. "Is that what I think it is?"

"It's a troll!" Hermione cried before she let out a high, loud, petrified scream.

Meadow let out a scream as well, trolls were notoriously stupid, but also notoriously aggressive. Hermione had backed all the way into the furthest wall away from the door, knees buckled, about ready to faint. The troll took an interest in Meadow, he swung his club at her. Diving out of the way, the massive wooden club took out the sink she was standing in front of and the two next to it out. She ended up near Hermione, but not out of the reach of the troll's long arms. The troll scooped Meadow up, his hand easily wrapping around her body.

The bathroom door opened violently, slamming into the wall behind it.

"Confuse it!" Harry shouted desperately as he grabbed something and threw it at the troll.

Turning away from Hermione, the troll took Meadow, shaking her in the air as he grabbed his club with the other hand. "Oy, pea-brain!" Ron yelled from the other side of the chamber and threw a metal pipe a t it. The troll didn't flinch at the pipe hitting its shoulder but stumbled to turn and look at Ron. Harry dashed over to Hermione, still flattened and frozen against the wall. Meadow was able to glance Shane's shaggy brown hair also throwing objects and yelling at it.

It seemed that the shouting and echoes were driving the troll berserk. Its grip tightened on Meadow, causing her chest to throb in pain and breathing became squeezed and harder to get enough oxygen through her body. She didn't realize the screaming was from her own vocals. Suddenly, through Meadow's blurry vision, she was able to see Harry do something very brave and very stupid: he jumped onto the troll, fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind, and shove his wand up the troll's nose. It howled in pain, twisting and flailing its club at Harry, and its grip on Meadow tightened even more.

Meadow swore she felt a rib or two crack. Immense pain shot through her whole body and a scream erupted from her like a possessed woman getting an exorcism. A black ring violently flashed larger and larger around her eyes, tunnel vision growing smaller and smaller. The last thing she saw was Ronald Weasley brandishing his wand and then Harry, on the back of the troll's neck, grow further and further away. As if she had been thrown.

-.-.-.

When Meadow came to, someone was holding her head with their hands and leaning very closely next to her lips with their ear. She recognized that bit of hair anywhere. "What are you doing, Shane?" She whispered to him; however, what came out of her mouth was: "Whaaat… Shane?"

"I thought you were dead," he said softly back, keeping his hands on the back of her head and neck.

Meadow realized that there was someone else squeezing her arm, as she went to look at who it was, Shane rubbed his thumb under her jaw, stilling her movement, "It's Hermione. You have a bit of a nasty cut on your left arm. The troll threw you to try and get to Harry. Ron saved us all by using Wingardium Leviosa on it. Knocked the troll out with its own club."

"Is someone coming yet?" Meadow asked, it was difficult to breath, she knew she had at least one rib broken from the troll's death grip on her. Except what came out was a groan, she felt blood dribbling out of the corners of her mouth and down her jaw; she must have bit her tongue.

"Someone should be here soon," Shane whispered to her. "We made a lot of noise."

Meadow could hear Ron and Harry celebrating bringing the troll down. The door burst open yet again, smacking the wall with a bang. Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell entered. She heard a faint whimper, assuming Professor Quirrell had a faint heart at the sight of the troll. As McGonagall and Snape took in the sight of the lavatory, her father noticed Shane clutching Meadow. He rushed over, conjured a stretcher immediately, and levitated Meadow slowly and carefully onto the stretcher. She knew it was her father, as the scent of earth filled her nose over the stench of the troll briefly. Shane no longer held her head, however, he didn't leave her. Meadow still felt Hermione gripping her arm, she was thankful for the girl, it kept her grounded through her throbbing head, faint vision, and immense pain in her chest.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" Professor McGonagall exclaimed, cold fury in her voice as she looked between Harry and Ron. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

"Minerva, talk on the way to the hospital wing; we need to go," Dad said quietly and harshly to the other professor.

The Gryffindor Head of House looked up and saw Meadow in the stretcher. Of course, Meadow was cursing herself for being stuck looking at the ceiling, however, she was terrified to move in case she did more damage. "Very well, follow us, you all should be checked out by Madam Pomfrey," Professor McGonagall said sharply to her Gryffindors; the seven of them left Professor Quirrell in the bathroom with the troll.

"We're not hurt, Professor," Ron Weasley's voice spoke up, but McGonagall ignored him, as Professors Sprout and Flitwick rushed over as well.

"Help Professor Quirrell," McGonagall barked at them. "The troll's knocked out." She turned to the Gryffindors, "What happened? Why were you out in the halls?"

"Please, Professor McGonagall—they were looking for me," Hermione's voice was small as she still held Meadow's arm as they rushed through the corridors towards the Hospital Wing.

"Miss Granger!"

"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 tripped and nearly fell in the disbelief that Hermione Granger just lied to cover for the boys.

"I assume Miss Snape did not go with you?"

"No," Hermione agreed, "Meadow was just using the leu at the wrong time and wrong place. The boys came to look for me. And if they hadn't found me and Meadow—we probably would be dead. Harry stuck his wand up its nose, Shane was yelling at it and throwing bits of sink to confuse 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."

Meadow let her eyelids fall, she was tired and this way, maybe she wouldn't give away the lie just yet.

"Well – in that case. . ." Professor McGonagall said, looking between the five of them as they grew closer to the hospital wing. "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

Meadow wished she could comfort the girl holding her arm; Hermione's grip was the only thing she could feel on her arm, and it grew tighter as Professor McGonagall reprimanded her. Meadow's chest was on fire, she wouldn't be surprised if it actually was on fire with the pain thrashing in her body. Meadow was wheezing to get some breath in her body.

"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this. I'm very disappointed in you." Professor McGonagall knew all the words to make someone feel even worse. She turned to the boys. "Well. I still say you were lucky, but not many first-years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each will win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this."

Meadow knew they were at the Hospital Wing now, the group had slowed down and two pairs of feet rushed off to open both doors. "If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to the Gryffindor Tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses," Professor McGonagall's voice said sharply.

"Will she be okay?" Shane asked as Meadow felt herself get lowered onto a bed. The busy feet of Madam Pomfrey rushed around her and the matron's magic tingled around Meadow.

"Once I get her all fixed up, she'll be just fine," the healer said. "Miss Granger, if you could let go please."

"Meadow?" Shane asked her and she opened her eyes. His concerned face swum into her vision.

"It's okay, you can go," she said to him. Well, really what she slurred out was: "Itsssssokie, youuuuuuuu go."

"Hush now," Madam Pomfrey said to her. "You need some rest." Meadow watched the healer's face go in circles in her eyesight. "Severus? Severus? Severus?"

Why did Madam Pomfrey say Dad's name three times? Meadow wondered to herself, it sounded just like an echo.

"Meadow—Meadow. Drin—drink this—this," Dad said as he leaned over her. His face dancing in her vision. "Op—open—open."

Meadow parted her lips and she felt a cool liquid surpass her tongue and crash into her throat. She choked and swallowed after spitting some up.

"Time to sleep—sleep," Dad said to her as he filled her vision again with his worried expression.

She didn't want to sleep; Meadow fought the sleep. But her eyes grew heavier. The world blurred and spun faster out of control until she was forced to shut her eyes down. Her whole body tingled. At least her ribs didn't hurt nearly as much. . .

-.-.-