Of Charms and Trolls:
Before Harry knew it, Hallowe'en was nearly upon them. He had been at Hogwarts for two whole months. While there would still be more theory and fewer practicals than in later years, the first years were finally allowed to try some actual magic.
"Wands out children," Professor Flitwick ordered once everyone had settled down. The class burst into a buzz of excitement as the students scrambled to draw their magical focus. It was always interesting to see how the children took care of their wands, he noticed. Most magicals never actually used their magic for much more than household chores after they left school. They could leave their wands lying on a table and grab it when needed. Their children, as well as the muggle raised, hadn't truly internalised how intrinsic a wand was to a witch or wizard. They had their wands in their pockets or, as most were long enough to make that uncomfortable and they hadn't been using that at all, in their bags. On the other hand, those with jobs that required constant use of magic tended to prefer specially designed holsters which could be strapped to the thigh or the forearm and had passed this on to their children. The professor noted that Harry was included in the second group. He thought he remembered from all of the constant analysis in the press of Auror's report of that Hallowe'en night mentions that Lily hadn't had her wand on her. Presumably after something like that, you wouldn't want to let it out of arm's reach ever again.
"Remember the rules for using your wand in class. Place it in the groove on your desk when you are not using it. Only cast the spell when I ask you to, and only the spell we are covering in class. If I tell you to stop, or if anything unexpected happens, place your wand down and leave it until I tell you it is safe to continue. Avoid pointing your wand directly at another student whenever possible, especially when casting. Now, this is the first time any of you have consciously cast a spell. I want you to focus not on the outcome, but how it feels. Everyone's spell will be different. That is not something to worry about any time soon. Just get used to casting, what it feels when you are producing the spell and compare that to when you are not. The spell in question is the light charm. The incantation is 'Lumos' and there is no wand movement. Just hold your wand out in front of you."
"Just waving a wand and saying some silly words does not a witch or wizard make however. You need to exert your will on the world to make it happen. Remember the process we have been through. Imagine the result you want. Hold it clearly in your mind. You want the end of your wand to light up. What does it look like? What does it feel like? It isn't a candle flame, or a fire so it should stay cold. You will want something you are used to seeing with, so it would be best if it was somewhere on the spectrum of white to yellow, like the Sun or firelight. What shape is this light? Extending forwards in a cone? Radiating as an orb? How far does the light extend? In time you will learn how to adapt these parameters instinctively, but for learning a spell pick a single variant and stick with it until it is comfortable. Yes Miss Granger?"
The girl tentatively lowered her frantically waving hand. "Professor Flitwick, if we control what the spell looks like just through our mind, why do we use wand movements and incantations?"
"Excellent question. Take two points for Gryffindor. The basic answer is that a specific set of movements and words that you always use for a spell act as a mental shortcut. Rather than having to build up the spell like this every time you cast it, they act as a trigger to recreate the state of mind you have practiced associating with them. This makes casting the spell easier and more efficient. For your NEWTs in Charms, Transfiguration or Defence Against the Dark Arts, for any of you who continue with them that far, you will be expected to produce a few spells without wand movements or incantation. This is only viable for spells you are so familiar with that they are entirely reflexive, otherwise without something to focus your intent on it will fall apart. To take a mundane example, what we are doing now is learning to play a piece of music. You have the sheet of music in front of you and you are currently familiarising yourself with it. You are focussing on getting the correct notes in the correct order and not much else. Over time you will reach the point where you know the patterns well enough that you can let them flow and concentrate on giving the piece mood and feeling. This is equivalent to mastering a spell and being able to use different variation of it. The final level is knowing it completely off by heart, so that if someone stopped you in the street, for example, you could start playing it then and there from memory without missing a single note and still preserving all of the passion and nuance that you would put into a prepared concert performance. This is wordless, motionless casting."
"The longer answer is for the question 'Why these movements and incantations?' Partly it is arithmancy. The spell takes the power you put in and weaves into a shape to produce the desired effect. The length, rhythm and cadence and shape of the incantation and movements are designed to aid in this spell shaping. This can be seen in other branches of magic as well, such as stirring patterns in Potions or placement and orientation of runes. The other part is one of the least understood facets of magic, and even if you study for a mastery you will probably only touch on it in passing. Suffice to say that as witches and wizards use something for a purpose, be it an incantation or location or day of the year, it gains power. It is as if magic becomes used to being manipulated in a certain way, like a crease on parchment after it has been folded. This is one of the main contributors to the dangers of experimental spell crafting and why most of the spells I will be teaching you, especially in the earlier years, have such long histories. New or rarely used spells can be unstable. The 'groove', for a lack of a better term, that has been worn in magic for them is shallower or doesn't exist at all. This makes them more prone to warping into unexpected, and sometimes dangerous, forms. That is not to say that these are the only, correct ways to cast a spell. Around the world and throughout time many magical conventions have arisen, in Europe standard incantations tend to be drawn from classical roots, as even after the empire receded they remained the language of scholarship for easier international collaboration or dissemination. Yet there is no reason why an Indian or Amazonian wizard would use these. Closer to home the ancient druids of Britain, and perhaps even the founders themselves, would have used incantations derived from Celtic dialects which have since fallen out of use. Beyond that it is possible, although I would advise it would be a vast amount of effort for little to no gain, to blaze your own trail, after all every spell started somewhere. At Hogwarts, however, and for your Ministry set exams you will be expected to learn and use the methods that we shall teach you for consistency."
"Finally, while the simple spells that we will be covering for the first few years can be… brute forced if you would just through a clear imagination of the results, for more advanced spells that is not always possible. If you take a complex charm, there are just too many components for one to clearly comprehend at once. Take a packing charm as an example. I am sure more than one of you has watched a parent or other family member wave their wand and items from all around the house have flown into the waiting trunk without them needing to move a muscle. I would say that there are four broad parts to that spell. Firstly it needs to seek out an item that the caster wishes to pack. Then it has to levitate it gently. Items may be delicate, or like neatly folded clothes, you just don't want to disturb them too much. Next comes a modified summoning charm, which needs to plot a path for the item through the house, avoiding all obstacles static or moving in its way, including other things it is flying alongside. Finally they need to be carefully placed into the trunk in the correct order and configuration without any rumpling or damage. This has to be done for every single item, without even considering if something is in the bottom of a shut draw, or needs folding along the way. As can see, unlike with the humble light charm, it is necessary to specify not just the end result, but all of the processes required to get there. Quite a tall order even for your active imaginations. I shall leave the specifics of how this is achieved for Professor Vector to elucidate those of you who grace her classroom in years to come, but suffice to say that more complex spells are formed from 'base spells', such as the light charm or the levitation charm we shall cover next, not wholly unlike words in sentence. Elements of the incantations and motions of the base spells are incorporated according to the arithmancy so guide your magic."
As the professor wound down, he carefully observed his students. While for the vast majority magical theory beyond what was required to cast common household spells flew far above their heads. However, there were sometimes a few, usually Ravenclaws but one should never prejudge, who would latch onto this like a crup with a bone and dig deeper searching for answers that would raise yet more questions. It was this that made dedicating his entire life to teaching worth it.
"Yes Mr Potter?"
"Going back a bit, you said that casting without words or motions was the final stage. But what about wandless magic?"
"Hm. I would say for that analogy, it would be like having such a deep understanding of its fundamental nature you are able to play the piece perfectly from memory even if your accoster on the street handed you a random instrument with which you had no familiarity. The most common case of wandless magic I have encountered is with individuals who have worked in warehouses, stocking shelves or similar occupations. It is not too uncommon for them to be casting some sort of variant on summoning, banishing and levitation charms constantly, all day every day as they move small objects about until one day they forget to even pick up their wand. Anyway, that is enough chatter. Let us get back to business. If you can remember all the way back to earlier, or were even taking notes," a couple of the children look decidedly sheepish, "I had described aspects you should consider when imagining the spell. The willpower component you don't need to worry about for this one. It is too simple a spell for it to be noticeable. The last part is to give it power. This feels different for everybody, as we have discussed. You need to find that source inside of you and let it out, or push it forwards. This is what I want you to be most focussed on one you have formed the spell the first time."
It was something that Harry felt would stay with him for the rest of his life. His first spell. Yes he knew he had done accidental magic before, and he had sent sparks from his wand when he first got it, but those weren't the same. Before it was just something that happened to him. Now he was in control. With merely an exertion of his will, he had rewritten the rules of reality and created a light shining at the end of his wand. It was flickering slightly and was slightly yellowish, he thought, but it was still a light. He let out a whoop of excitement. Around him some of his classmates were also undergoing the same experience. It was clear that a few had used their wands before, they had probably had had tutors over the summer. The light went out. Try again. "Lumos"
Right. Professor Flitwick had said to concentrate on how it felt. He should be able to feel his magic flowing out of his body through his wand. Harry took a deep breath, and tried to sink into the meditative state that they had been practicing for the last few lessons. His wand winked out. "Lumos". Breath in. Breath out. Focus inwards. There! Harry thought he felt something. The faintest touch of something deep inside him leading outwards. His heart jumped in triumph, breaking the meditation. He had almost had it, try again.
By the end of the period, Harry thought he was getting it. It was impossible to describe properly. A bit like stretching a muscle, it was a unique feeling coming from inside him. A flow that seemed to lead from deep in his chest, down his arm and through his wand. He even swore he had found a way to 'push' it a bit, making the light ever so much brighter. He was also feeling quite tired somehow.
"Well done class," Flitwick praised them as they packed away their things. "All of you managed to consistently produce a light by the end of the class. This week is the first of the practice sessions for the Charms class. These will be taken by returning seventh year students. Even though I will not be there, these are still timetabled classes and you will be expected to treat them as such. The instructors are not permanent members of the staff, but they still have full authority to award or deduct points or assign detentions for misbehaviour. I will always tell you what I want you to focus on for each week, but please make use of the time to work on any casting you are having trouble with. I suspect you are feeling slightly worn out after that?" Some of the students nodded and the diminutive professor chuckled. "Students always underestimate that. There is a reason magic can't do everything. Every time you cast a spell you are affecting a change. The greater that change, for example the brighter the light or the heavier the object you lift, then the more effort this requires. At the moment even casting a basic light for most of an hour is enough to make you feel it. Don't be disheartened. Firstly you have only just begun to come into your magic. This is why Hogwarts is only open to those older than eleven. Over the course of your time here your magical capacity, both strength, the amount of power you can wield in a single spell and stamina, how much you can do over a short period before tiring yourselves, will increase dramatically. In addition, your magic is currently like an underused muscle. As you stretch and exercise it in your classes it will grow stronger. Obviously there is an upper limit, but those who use large amounts of magic on a regular basis, such as individuals working in magical constructing or myself during my duelling career, have an easier time casting spells than if merely used it for occasional household tasks. If at any point in class you feel that the spell is doing more than just tiring you out please stop. Pushing beyond your capabilities can do damage to your body's flow of magic, perhaps permanently if you are unlucky. Better to take a time out now and come back later than do yourself harm. Now, I believe your next class is waiting. Chop chop!"
The first spell they were tasked with in Transfiguration was changing a matchstick into a needle. In preparation they had been set as homework the week before to write an four inch essay on the differences between wood and iron. Apparently the trick here was to be able to visualise the starting item and the finished product in your mind, then imagine a smooth transition from one to the other. Professor McGonagall advised them to take this one property at a time. As a failed transfiguration would revert back to the original, they were able to try, try and try again without working their way through a forest's worth of matchsticks. By the end of the class, Harry was reliably managing the shape, rounding off the corners and pointing one end, and could have sworn he saw just the faintest silvery sheen before it snapped back. During the Transfiguration workshop that week he had reached the point of making the full transformation, and even making a couple of satisfying 'tinks' by mock duelling Michael before the magic ran out and they reverted.
The potions lessons continued to be a frustrating enigma however. Despite the comprehensive drilling that his mother had given him meaning that once they started actually brewing he was producing flawless potions, the teacher still seemed to hate him. In fact, Professor Snape seemed to take Harry's proficiency as a personal insult, stopping constantly to peer over his shoulder to try and catch his 'cheating'. The assistant demonstrators who helped during the brewing sessions seemed to follow their teachers lead, making snide comments as they walked past his desk and the few times he did put his hand up to ask a question pointedly ignoring him for minutes. He remembered what his mother had warned him about certain people, especially those associated with Slytherin house, may have been sympathisers or outright supporters of Voldemort and hated him for it. Harry couldn't believe that Dumbledore would hire a teacher that would think like that however, there must be more to it. He had written home, and received a very odd letter in reply. His mother asked him to wait until he came home for Christmas and they would talk about it face-to-face then.
While starting to use magic was a dream come true, Harry's favourite lesson would still have to be flying. Starting in the second week, and running for this term only the first years had a period a week with Madam Hooch, the school's quidditch coach. He had received a children's broom, highly limited in speed, stayed a couple of feet above the ground and ran out of charge after an hour or so, as a birthday present a couple of years back and Remus had taken him for rides for as long as he could remember, but this was the first time he got to fly himself. Even new to this he could tell the school practice brooms were barely functioning relics. He had been lucky enough not to pick one which was actively dangerous, but apparently Neville had been nearly carried away by one which refused to descend, having to jump off he ended up in the hospital wing with a sprained wrist. Draco Malfoy's loud jeering over this had damaged even further both Gryffindor-Slytherin relations for their year and Harry's opinion of the blond git. That aside, once Harry was in the air, he felt that he was born to it. According to Madam Hooch a broom was in fact a magical focus, like a wand, just specifically designed to make a self-levitation charm efficient and precise enough to be practical. This was one of the reasons that Quidditch was such an important sport in the magical world. The ability to fly complex, precise and fast manoeuvres on a broom, especially while simultaneously concentrating on playing a game, was often a strong indicator of one's magical power and control. While not anywhere near as fiercely individual as a wand, most brooms worked perfectly fine for everyone, the newest, trendiest broom wouldn't always be the best for a specific player, and the superstars and richer national teams would have custom brooms designed to match their particular rider. Yet even as a first year on a barely floating faggot, Harry knew that before he left the school he would make the Quidditch team as flying was in his blood.
The true excitement was saved for Hallowe'en. Even before the Statute of Secrecy, this had been a holiday that European magicals had claimed as their own. Part of it was revelling in a festival of magic and the unknown. For one day of the year the muggles huddled together, scaring each other with tales of sorcery and death, while the magicals flaunted openly that they had nothing to be frightened of. After all, magic was theirs to control and they knew all about ghosts. Were even friends with some. A cynic might also suggest that the party was also an excuse to keep an eye on people. Thousands of years of belief that the turning of the year thinned the veil between the living and the dead was not without its consequences. It might not be an actual astrological event, the equinox was back in September, but it was empirically a powerful night for those intending to carry out powerful magics and rituals revolving around death. If everyone was expected to be at social events, it made it harder for them to sneak off and do something underhand. This celebration of magic had been compounded in Magical Britain over the last decade by the anniversary of the fall of Voldemort. Pilgrims partied in the streets of Godric's Hollow, dancing around the memorial statue and having their pictures taken in costume in front of the decaying wreckage of the cottage. No one had ever accused witches and wizards of good taste. Many of the stories for the youngsters had shifted, with the monsters under the bed and the banshee on the roof being scared away by the 'Boy-Who-Lived', like he had got rid of the real-life bogeyman.
At Hogwarts, Hallowe'en was one of the three major feasts of the year, along with the Welcoming and Leaving feasts. The castle was decorated for the evening with muggle-inspired accessories taken to excess with magic. Suits of armour swathed in sheets of fake cobwebs jumped out at unsuspecting students, lifting their visors to reveal glowing green skulls floating inside. Chittering clouds of transfigured bats billowed across the high ceilings. Fortunately the magic had not been faithful enough to replicate the inevitable waste that would have resulted in if they were real. The winners for each house and year of the pumpkin charming competition adorned the banisters of the Grand Staircase. Even the portraits were in on the fun, with many dressed up as skeletons or fairy-tale dark witches, boils included, chasing the students along the corridors cackling maniacally.
Harry barely noticed any of this. For him and his family, Hallowe'en was a time for remembrance. It was on this day that his father had died, along with any chance he had ever had for a 'normal' life. Tonight was a night for family and stories of the lost, not just James, but school friends like Marlene and Sirius, or fellow members of the Order like the Prewitt twins and the Longbottoms. Yet here he was, away from home and surrounded by everyone celebrating, even worse celebrating him. As soon as classes were over, he slipped away from his housemates. He had been such poor company all day and they were so overcome with excitement that it wasn't hard. He met up with Neville and Susan down by the Black lake. None of them felt like talking, so they just sat there in silence. Like with many other things, their families had come to respect this day in the same way, though in the privacy of their own homes. It felt nice being with someone else who understood. At least Harry still had a mother to bring him up. He sometimes wondered which was worse. At least Neville could still visit his parents, but they were merely broken shells of who they once were. Susan had nothing. Even her older brother Laurence, three at the time, had perished in the raid on her home. The Death-Eaters obviously hadn't realised that she was there, tucked away in her bedroom upstairs at the time. Cruel fate had Amelia to be the first responder at the scene. She had had to leave the tortured and desecrated corpses of her brother, sister-in-law and nephew to search, hoping against hope, for the one member of the family who may still have been alive. Every now and then she wondered what would have happened to her if she had not needed to stay strong for her niece.
Eventually the cold, hunger and lateness drove them inside to the feast. They made small talk on safe topics. Earlier in the day in the Charms workshop, Hermione had been sitting with her housemate Ron Weasley. Obsessively reading the textbooks and a nearly psychotic attention to detail had stood the bushy haired witch in good stead so far this year. She had consistently been leading the class both in theoretical work and mastering the new spells they were just starting to be taught. This week they had started their second in Charms, the levitation charm. Having mastered it in the first lesson, and by this point even having reasonable control over the movements of her feather, she had tried to help Ron, who was still struggling. Unfortunately it was evident to anyone who interacted with her that tact, or frankly any form of social skills, were not her strong point. While well intentioned, her already frustrated classmate had reacted to her condescending tone by lashing out. After the class he had returned the favour by making a loud comment about "No wonder she doesn't have any friends!" which the witch had overheard. While unfortunately technically not really incorrect, it is not something anyone wants to hear being said about them. Neville reported that she had rushed off on her own after the last class, and checking with one of the other first-year Gryffidors as they entered the Great Hall, hadn't been seen since.
For all of the trio's mixed feelings, if there is any way to the heart of an eleven year old, it is through food. While the Hogwarts house elves were one of a kind when it came to mass producing indulgent spreads day in day out, it was for special occasions that they truly pulled out the stops. Taking the theme of the night as a challenge, everything possible was 'spooky'. The slices of meat were cut in the shape of the silhouette of a broom rider. The mashed potato was moulded into the shape of a muggle 'ghost'. The puddings were grinning pumpkins made from sponge and marzipan, filled with illusionary dancing flames. Everything was winding down, people beginning to drift off back to their common rooms to sleep on full stomachs. Suddenly the great doors creaked open. Given the level of noise and other various distractions only a handful, mostly those closest noticed immediately. The Professor Quirrell, the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, staggered in. By the time he had taken half a dozen steps, a wave of shocked silence had passed through the packed students. Therefore even the teachers, all the way at the high table could clearly hear the pronouncement.
"Troll! Troll in the dungeons. Thought you ought to know." The nervous man then collapsed forwards, like a marionette with it strings cut and lay unmoving.
After a stunned pause, the entire hall burst into a cacophony of noise as everyone began talking at once. Professor Dumbledore raised his wand and tapped his throat. "Quiet Please!" echoed throughout the room.
"Prefects, please return your houses to their common rooms. Teachers, follow me to the dungeons." He swiftly stood and exited by a side-door by the head table.
The hall was in chaos. The long tables and relatively small corridors between them were not conducive to every student getting up at once and organising themselves. It also wasn't helped as the Slytherins began to realise that they had just been told to go to the dungeons, where the Troll was, and took to standing in the way complaining loudly. As Harry tried to find a path through the confusion to where Arthur was attempting to herd the Ravenclaw first years, he felt somebody grab his arm. The problem with being a first year was that you were so much smaller than everyone else. It made just seeing what was going on hard, let alone making headway.
"Harry!" He spun around to find Neville tugging at him. "Have you seen Hermione?"
"No," Harry replied, confused. "Wasn't she sitting with you guys?"
"Nobody has seen her since classes. Parvati saw her running off to the first floor girls bathroom. Maybe she is still there."
"She won't know about the troll. We have to go and tell her," Susan gasped. She had been sitting just behind Harry on the Hufflepuff table, and apparently hadn't drifted far.
"There you are." Penelope squeezed between a pair of seventh year Hufflepuffs. Now is not the time for chatting." She turned to Harry's two friends. "Go and find your prefects."
"Um, Miss," Neville tentatively spoke up. "One of my friends. I think she is in the bathroom. She won't know about the troll."
"Merlin's knobbly knees!" Penelope cursed under her breath. Jumping up on a nearby beach, she seemed to be making gestures at various people throughout the hall. After a minute she climbed back down. "Ok, it is easier if you stay with me, Arthur is going back now. Percy seems to have already left with the Gryffindor first years, so I will drop you off later." She addressed Neville. A sandy haired boy, who according to his badge was a Hufflepuff prefect. "Hi Hydrus. Apparently there is at least one first year who has gone to the bathroom, and won't know what is going on. Can you check the nearest boys and I'll do the girls. Also this seems to be one of you badgers." She gestured to Susan.
"Eh, they seem to want to stick together," The Hufflepuff prefect replied. "We should probably meet up again in the Entrance Hall again afterwards anyway to swap anyone we find. I'll take my Puffs and Slytherins down and you can take the Gryffs and Claws."
"And do all of the climbing."
"Not my fault you lot are banished to the tops of the towers," he shrugged with a smile. "Anyway, the sooner we get started the sooner we can get on with it. I have an essay to finish tonight."
Even though it was the closest, it still took about five minutes to walk to the corridor of the first floor girl's bathroom. As they approached the first thing that they noticed was the smell. Like somebody had dug up part of a swamp and then aged it for a week in a sealed, warm room.
"Merlin's luxuriant beard!" Neville exclaimed, gagging slightly. Are the toilet's backed up or something?"
"I hope not. At least you don't have to use this toilet." Susan replied.
Suddenly a panicked scream rent the air.
"What!" Penelope exclaimed. Beginning to run towards the door. In response came a roar powerful enough to rattle some of the windows. The coming round the open door they saw it was about the worst it could be. Standing in the middle of the bathroom was the troll. Four meters tall, it towered above the sinks and stalls around it, nearly brushing its head on the vaulted ceiling. It was humanoid, with grey skin, long arms and short, stubby legs. Its face looked malformed and brutish, with no hair upon its head. It was dressed in what looked to be several untreated animal hides crudely stitched together, and was probably the source of much of the stink. In one hand it was carrying a massive broken branch as a club. It was currently trying to get to the source of the screaming, tearing away at the bathroom stalls.
Penelope took the natural course of action and screamed herself. While she had been a shoo in for prefect due to her maturity and common sense, facing down a fully grown troll was far above and beyond the call of duty, especially as she was still merely a fifth year. Even with the few spells they knew which stood a chance at incapacitating the creature in theory, she definitely didn't have enough power to overcome something that outweighed her by four or five times and with its thick skin and innate magic, could shrug off most physical or magical assaults. Fortunately, in retrospect even if it didn't seem so in the moment, she had managed to attract the troll's attention. It ponderously swung around, the trailing club reducing the row of sinks to porcelain rubble in an almighty crash.
"Back, back!" She yelled at her charges, ushering them backwards into the hall, and desperately wracking her brains for anything that could help. They had briefly covered trolls last year in DADA. Think. Think. While they may look human and have a rudimentary language, their intelligence is more on par with animals. They are also quite lazy and not particularly fast. When facing one try and distract it then run until it gets bored and looks for something easier. Well, she had to keep its attention. If it got bored then it would go after the first year again. She just had to keep it chasing her until the teachers arrived. They must have realised the troll wasn't in the dungeons by now surely?
"Incarcerous!" The conjured rope wrapped itself uselessly around one knee. "Spinthos!" A burst of colourful sparks jetted into its face. It wouldn't do any damage, but hopefully it would distract for a moment. Seeing the water spraying from a broken pipe onto the floor she had an idea. "Glacius!" Patches of ice formed on the wet floor. The troll stumbled as it stepped on one, but it grabbed onto the door frame with one hand and hauled its way through. Penelope was panicking now. Nothing seemed to be doing anything. "Flipendo!" The knockback jinx just fizzled out as it made contact. Now the club was swinging in her direction, picking up speed. She turned and ran. The Hufflepuff and Gryffindor were ahead. Where was Harry? She didn't dare turn to look, just kept running. She felt the air displaced as the end of the wooden club brushed by the back of her neck. Too close. What was she doing? She was a fifth year student for God's sake, she wasn't meant to be being chased by trolls. A yell sounded behind her and the troll let out a bellow. The first years up ahead of her had stopped, their mouths falling over. She risked a glance over her shoulder.
Harry had somehow managed to jump onto the troll's back. He must have climbed up the moulding around the window frame and jumped from there. He now had his legs wrapped around the beast's neck, hands desperately grasping its face as it tried it's hardest to shake him off. It suddenly jerked, shouting in what seemed to be more like pain. Looking closely she realised that Harry's wand seemed to have been driven up its nose. She knew she should be helping in some way, but there was nothing she could think of that might not make this even more dangerous for the young Ravenclaw. Also, to be honest, she was almost mesmerised by the scene before her. Finally the troll seemed to have had enough, and brought its club up above its head to swat its passenger. Just as it was bringing it down she heard two shouts of "Wingardium Leviosa!" from behind her. Susan and Neville were standing there with their wands thrust out in front of them in white knuckled grips, pitting their full minds and wills in a last chance to save their friend. Even though they were just first years and had only learned the spell that very week, it was just enough. The club jerked slightly, so rather than reducing Harry to a potion ingredient, it instead struck the troll itself cleanly on the top of the head. It looked at its hand for a moment, as if wondering why it had done that to itself, before collapsing on the ground in a smelly heap.
Harry slowly picked himself up from the top of the pile of troll. It had seemed like a good idea when he had first thought about it, but now the terror he had had to suppress in the moment was coming back full force. His hands were trembling so much that it took a couple of attempts to grasp the end of his wand. It was so embedded in the creature's nose that he had to brace himself with a foot on its chin to pull it out. He wiped it off on the troll's clothes, and then stumbled into the bathroom to wash it with one of the spraying taps. By this point Neville and Susan managed to catch up with him.
"What were you doing you idiot!" The redheaded Hufflepuff burst out at him. "You could have been killed!"
"I-I know!" Harry stammered. "I just felt I had to do something, we don't know any magic and it was so big so…"
Penelope cut off his rambling. "While everything worked out well in the end, next time you see a troll just run. At least until you have a few more years of school under your belt. I don't know if I am to give you points or detention for the rest of the year."
"We will be the judge of that Miss Clearwater. Could you please explain what on earth happened here?" Professor McGonagall's strident tones surprised all of them. Looking around they noticed that Professors McGonagall and Flitwick had all just arrived and were staring at the body of the troll. Professor Snape came around the corner at the other end of the corridor and Harry thought he might be limping slightly.
"It was my fault Professor." A small voice came from one of the few unruined cubicles, as Hermione stepped out, shaking slightly. Penelope motioned for her to be quiet and stepped forward. Taking a deep breath to compose herself, then coughing because of the stench, she started.
"Once Professor Dumbledore announced we were all to return to our common rooms, Arthur and I started rounding up our first years. Mr Potter seemed to have got separated from the rest and I went to get him, as he was a bit small to get through the crowds by himself. When I arrived Mr-" She looked quizzically at Neville.
"Longbottom, Neville Longbottom." He filled in.
"Longbottom informed me that he knew that someone, presumably this young lady, was in the bathroom at the time, and so wouldn't have heard the instructions. After communicating with other prefects" mostly with vague gestures, she left out "I went to check to get anyone in here. Hydrus, the Hufflepuff fifth year prefect, was dealing with the boys lavatory on the ground floor. As these first years were already with me and people were already leaving, I thought it would be easier to keep an eye on them myself, so they followed. Also it was their friend. When we got here we were just in time. The troll was in the bathroom and was trying to get at Miss-"
"Granger"
"Miss Granger. I, um, managed to distract it. I thought the best hope was that it would chase me until you followed it back up here. We all ran into the corridor, and I shot a few spells at it, but nothing did more than irritate it. I was running away after it took a swing at me, and I heard shouting. Mr Potter had jumped up on its back and it was trying to shake it off. When it tried to hit it with its club, these two." She gestured at Neville and Susan. "Cast a levitating charm on it, and it was apparently enough to make it hit its own head and knock it out. Then you came." She trailed off. Obviously the shock of what had just happened was catching up with her.
During her speech Flitwick had started conjuring bindings to secure the trolls, so it was McGonagall and Snape who were passing judgement.
"Well, I am not sure I have heard such a story of bravery and foolishness in all my time here," Professor McGonagall started.
"It is just like a Potter to jump in and try and take all of the glory," Snape spat. Even Penelope recoiled slightly at the sheer venom the man was projecting. "Detention and twenty points from Ravenclaw."
"Now now Severus," Professor Flitwick chided as he wandered over. "I am his Head of House, so I will decide what the verdict is. I think ten points for Ravenclaw for you Miss Clearwater for clear thinking under pressure and an exemplary dedication to duty. I will also put a reference on your file if I feel it is relevant for any job references you ever ask me for." The small man beamed at his prefect. "Miss Bones, Mr Longbottom, ten points each for excellent charm work. Do you agree Minerva?" The stern woman nodded. "And finally Mr Potter. I think you lose Ravenclaw fifteen points for recklessness and unnecessary trauma for your friends." He hadn't missed how desperately the others had been checking if Harry was alright. The boy deflated, as if he was trying to sink into the floor. "But you have also earned twenty points for bravery and willingness to help a friend in need." Harry immediately perked up again. "Now. I think we have all had enough excitement for one night. Lets go to the hospital wing to make sure you are all fine, and probably take a calming draught each. Then off to bed with you. Severus, could you wait with our friend until the headmaster gets here?"
As they moved off Penelope suddenly remembered something. "Oh. I told Hydrus that I would meet him in the Entrance Hall, so I would take the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, while he had the Hufflepuffs and any Slytherins he found."
"Don't worry Miss Clearwater," Professor McGonagall calmed her. "I'll go now and sort it out."
While Hermione wasn't really close to the three other first years, despite sharing a house with one of them, the shared trauma had them all leaning on each other as they trailed behind the teacher and the prefect.
"Thank you! Thank you so much!" Hermione sobbed quietly. "That thing came in and I-I thought I was dead. I would be dead after just two months of school and nobody would care."
"Don't say that," Susan admonished fiercely. "Of course we would care. Did you think we were just going to leave you?"
Hermoine shook her head silently. "When the teachers first arrived. They looked so angry. I thought you were going to get into trouble over me. I was going to say that I had been looking for the troll, and you had saved me."
"Why would you need to say that?" Neville asked, confused. "Why were you in the bathroom anyway. Nobody has seen you since classes.
"Um." Hermione flushed. "I was crying." She mumbled.
"What?"
"I was crying ok. After what Ron said earlier. About how nobody likes me."
An awkward silence began to stretch out, before Susan stepped into the breach. "Don't be like that. He lets his mouth get away from him, like when he challenged Malfoy to a duel." She desperately looked at her friends for help.
"He was just frustrated. You know what it is like. You are trying so hard to do something and it isn't working so you just feel annoyed," Harry hastily continued.
"It is not just that though. He was right. Parvati and Lavender are like long-lost sisters, obsessing over teen Witch Weekly." Harry was confused for a moment. He didn't know her that well, but Padma didn't seem anything like that. Well, maybe twins could be very different. They were in different houses after all. "Fay and Sally-Anne are always arguing over their Quidditch teams and nobody cares about me. I try and get a discussion on schoolwork, or get people to go to the library with me and nobody cares. I miss my parents and I miss my old school and all this magic is so new I feel so lost." Once she had got started it all seemed to start pouring out, like a dam had broken.
"If you want someone to do work with you can always wander up to our common room," Harry suggested, desperately trying to calm her down.
"Seriously."
"Seriously. I can show you the entrance tomorrow if you want. You just have to answer a riddle to get in, and the eagle makes it easy for us first years. If you can get Sue to shut up about how pens are better than quills we will literally pay you," He implored with wide eyes, making Hermione giggle.
Up ahead, Professor Flitwick had not become a duelling champion with dull senses. He smiled knowingly and started planning how to award his little raven more points soon. It was such a shame that the muggleborn never got a chance to prepare properly for Hogwarts, but it seemed that this one was finally getting a chance to find her feet.