Good evening, everyone. Happy Wednesday! I hope you're all doing well; I know that for many of you who are in school/college, that time of horrid final exams and papers is upon us. I wish you luck in all of your endeavors: and for those of you who have other things going on as well, good luck with those too! The holidays are right around the corner, after all, and hopefully if you are able to SAFELY see your family this year, you are preparing for that as well. :)

As always, I want to thank you for your favorites and follows, and especially the reviews. They always make a writer's day, I assure you! Feel free to do the same here.

Thank you for reading this far. Have a lovely week.

The next morning was far from peaceful. I was doing everything in my power—including proof-reading my Potions homework for the fifth time—to forget what had occurred the previous night, but it was admittedly difficult seeing as Harry and Ron were continually whispering about what they thought the three-headed dog could be guarding. They seemed insistent that the thing the Gringotts bank robber had been after was down that trap door.

After about fifteen minutes of distracted studying, I plopped my scroll down upon the table and shot Harry and Ron a glare. They blinked at my aggressive expression and stared at me, stunned, as I hissed, "Don't you think it's high time we dropped this topic of conversation? Whatever it is, it's well above our station!"

"But Belle, if it's something dangerous, don't you think we have a right to know what—"

Harry was interrupted by the mail arriving. I hardly looked up as Hedwig plopped a thin parcel in front of him; I knew the size and shape of that package.

It was a broomstick.

Ron's eyes were practically bulging out of his head. Excitedly, he whispered, "Come on, let's open it!"

And so we did; I couldn't help but wonder which model Harry might be gifted, perhaps it would be a Cleansweap 8 like mine.

When the broomstick was revealed, my mouth dropped open. Dumbstruck, I whispered, "It can't be…"

"It is," answered Ron, a humongous grin plastered across his face. Harry seemed speechless as well, his green eyes wide with disbelief. Ron tapped a finger against his chin as he mused, "But who sent it?"

As if to answer his question, Hedwig squawked and flew away from us and toward the High Table, where Professor McGonagall was waiting for her with an owl treat. She noticed our gazes and smiled knowingly before stroking the bird and bidding her to return to the Owlery.

"Incredible," I murmured, shaking my head. Now I was really jealous. What I would give to have my broom with me…

With this discovery, Harry immediately declared that he wanted to go lock the broomstick in the dormitory so it would be safe and sound for practices and games. Ron and I decided this was a fair idea, and since there was still forty minutes before Potions, we chose to accompany him.

The moment we left the Great Hall, however, we ran into Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. I sighed somewhat upon seeing the unwelcoming sneer on Malfoy's face—I was rather hoping that his outright hostility would lessen as of late.

Malfoy seized the package from Harry's hands and weighed it, as if trying to find out what it was.

Shoving it back at him, he grumbled, "That's a broomstick. You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them."

Ron seemed unable to restrain himself as he retorted with glee, "It's not just any old broomstick, it's a Nimbus 2000! What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet 260?" Noting Harry's look of mild confusion, he added as a side-note, "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. I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig," retorted Malfoy.

I scoffed and opened my mouth to defend my friend, but before I could do so, Professor Flitwick suddenly appeared, saying in his squeaky yet charming voice, "Not arguing, are we, boys? And Miss Skylar?"

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," Malfoy said quickly.

If he was hoping that Flitwick would distribute punishment for this, he was sorely disappointed. Far from doing that, the Charms Professor clapped his hands excitedly and said, "Yes, yes, that's right. Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. What model is it?"

"A Nimbus 2000, sir," Harry replied, not even bothering to hold back his justified grin. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it."

And with that, Harry and Ron marched forward, roaring with laughter.

I shook my head and made to follow them, but Draco's expression stopped me. He looked almost confused—and this was explained when he asked me, a fair bit of resentment in his voice, "What did he mean by that?"

"The Remembrall," I stated, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow. "When Harry caught it, Professor McGonagall found it… appropriate… to assign him to the Gryffindor Quidditch team as the Seeker. It would seem, Malfoy, that your plan to expel him has backfired. Again."

Before he could speak or rush to defend himself, I issued a sickly-sweet finger wave and made to move after my friends.

The next day was Halloween—or, according to Harry, it was the first day after he began his Quidditch training, which he could not stop talking about. While normally I would've loved to spend hours on end talking about the wizarding sport, we had a Charms test coming up at the end of the week, and we really needed to perfect the day's lesson, the Levitating Spell.

So it was that I found myself laughingly scolding my friend: "Harry! Levitating spells! We need to know them!"

"Oh, right," he said sheepishly, cut off from a lecture about how fascinating Bludgers were. Clearing his throat, he waved his arm in the specific flicking gesture that Professor Flitwich had taught us. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The feather we were supposed to be levitating moved only slightly, but Harry didn't seem dispirited. He jovially waved me onward, after which I too recited, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

My feather hovered about a foot off the desk, but then plopped back down, unwilling to fly any further.

From Professor Flitwick's desk, I heard clapping. Glancing over at him, I was amused to see that he was standing tip-toe on his pile of books, clapping his hands enthusiastically. "Well done!" he exclaimed. "You've almost got it, Miss Skylar, just a little more wrist now!"

To my left, I suddenly heard Ron shout, "Wingardium Leviosa!" But he seemed rather frustrated—I could see why. One, he was unable to cast the spell. Two, Hermione Granger was his Charms partner.

Ron practically threw his wand down upon the feather; of course, it didn't budge. Hermione seized his arm and commanded, "Stop it, stop it, you're going to take someone's eye out!"

His frustration only growing with this comment, Ron exclaimed, "All right, go on then. You do it if you're so clever."

Hermione sniffed at him and raised her wand: "Wingardium Leviosa!"

At once, her feather hopped in the air, rising two feet… four feet… it ascended higher and higher over all of our heads. Everyone stopped what they were doing to see who had managed to make their feather fly.

While Professor Flitwick had been excited by my progress, he was ecstatic at Hermione's success. I pursed my lips a little… I was rather hoping to perfect this lesson before her this time.

Nonetheless, over the course of the rest of the class, both Harry and I managed our successes, which was satisfying enough for me.

Once class was over, everyone returned their feathers—except for Seamus Finnegan, who had accidentally blown his up—and began to leave the room. Ron caught up to Harry and I, and silently, we proceeded to make our way back to the Gryffindor common room.

As we were walking, however, I sensed Ron's anger. Deciding it would be better to talk through his feelings sooner rather than later, I questioned, "What's going on, Ron? Something the matter?"

"'It's Levi-OH-sa, not Levio-SAH.'" Ron did his best to mimic Hermione's voice as he quoted her from the lesson. He was then silent for a moment… but his face was turning red, and I suspected that the tense silence wouldn't be held for long.

I was right. After another few moments, his anger got the better of him, and he exploded, "She's a nightmare, honestly! No wonder she hasn't got any friends."

While I commiserated with Ron's frustrations, I thought his insult was a little uncalled for. So I said, "I don't think that's—" but before I could get any further, someone budged in between the two of us.

I recognized the bushy mane of mouse-brown hair immediately: Hermione. She sniffled once and proceeded to walk forward, not looking back.

"I think she heard you," Harry mumbled quietly.

"So?" Ron retorted, but he was looking rather uncomfortable.

The rest of the day, no one could find Hermione. I attempted to locate her in the dormitory—no luck. I tried the common room—also empty. I even went to all the classrooms in which I knew she liked to study.

Still missing.

It was only during our trek towards the Halloween Feast that we received any word of Hermione's whereabouts—Parvati approached me, a concerned look on her face, and whispered, "Belle, do you know what's gotten into Hermione? She's been in the girl's bathroom, crying all afternoon!"

"So that's where she's been?" I inquired. I was answered with a nod.

I turned towards Ron and raised an eyebrow, but my friend simply squirmed uncomfortably and said nothing.

By this time, we had reached the Great Hall, where we gaped wordlessly at its transformation. Dozens of bats hung from the ceiling—and they were alive, as they proved to be when a few of them suddenly flew off the rafters to give their wings a stretch. Pumpkins were placed along all four house tables, candles inside them to form jack-o'-lanterns. Even as I looked at one, its face changed shape. On the golden platters was the Halloween feast… and even though everything was appropriately spooky and exciting, I couldn't get Hermione out of my head.

I felt incredibly guilty for not saying something to Ron the exact moment he had his outburst. I should've told him that she was my friend, even if he didn't think she had any.

My complacency caused her pain, and it was only right that I rectify that. Not to mention that it was sheer blasphemy that anyone should miss the Halloween feast.

I turned to my friends and said, "Hold on, save two seats. I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" Harry asked.

"To get Hermione!"

Harry nodded as I turned around, but Ron's face was a little stony.

I decided to ignore that reception and proceed from the Great Hall. Just around the corridor, I ran into Professor Quirrell, who looked absolutely terrified about something—before I could even wish him a happy Halloween, he darted past me and into the Great Hall.

A bit confused, I only shrugged and moved onward. After another moment, screams from the Great Hall could be heard; but I figured it must've just been a Halloween prank. Those were hardly uncommon, after all.

Finally, I reached the girl's bathroom. Pushing open the door, I could hear stifled sobs from behind one of the stalls. I paused for a moment, attempting to figure out which one Hermione was in, and once I figured it out, knocked on the door.

The crying stopped, and a heavy voice asked, "Who is it and what do you want?"

"It's me, Belle," I answered simply. "I want you to come to the Halloween feast."

"Why should I?" she retorted, sounding rather miserable. "I don't have anyone to sit with or talk to. Ronald Weasley made it quite clear that I'm unwelcome even in your little group. He's right in saying I don't have any friends."

Even though I knew she couldn't see the gesture, I found myself shaking my head while arguing, "That's not true. You and I are Herbology partners. We spend the evening hours before Astronomy working on homework and essays together. I have had fun with you in the past, Hermione. Even if you don't believe it, I consider you one of my friends."

There was silence—and then, the stall door opened just a crack. One of Hermione's tear-filled brown eyes peeked out, gazing at me skeptically before asking doubtfully, "You really mean that?"

"Yeah," I said, smiling a little. "I do."

She sniffed once. "Would you sit with me if I go, then?"

"Of course."

Now she smiled, and exited the bathroom stall completely. I grinned and offered her a hand, which she took, and we turned to exit the bathroom—

Only to come face-to-face with the largest and most disgusting creature I had ever seen in my life. Its skin was a lumpy grey, its body much too huge for its tiny head, and its ears too big for its squashed face.

Without a doubt, this was a troll… here, in Hogwarts.