Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

A/N: Hello again! Glad to see everyone again.

I've decided, due to a slower update schedule, to speed up the pace of the story.

As such, here is the very first action scene.

Enjoy.

Chapter 12 - The Folly of the Night

It was finally Halloween, and Harry would advance his plan.

On the way to the feast, he cast a silent compulsion charm upon the Weasley twins, suggesting that they take the chance to try and break into the Slytherin dorms. He watched for a couple of minutes, happy to see them smirk together, and then run off towards the dungeons.

With that out of the way, Harry was free to head down to the Great Hall, to join in the feasting. On his way, he picked up a long red cloak with a turned up hem, perfect for combat, as it would not restrict his movements. He sat down with his companions, and began to discuss trivial matters in hushed voices.

About an hour later, Quirrelmort came charging into the Great Hall, faking a fit of panic. 'A troll! A troll! Loose in the dungeons!' He skidded to a stop. 'Thought you ought to know.' He collapsed to the floor in a heap, feigning unconsciousness.

As expected, there was pandemonium the moment the announcement was made. First years, especially from the Hufflepuff table, whimpered. Several seventh year Gryffindors made idiotic suggestions of going after it, but none were that stupid to actually follow through.

'SILENCE!' Dumbledore bellowed. 'Prefects, will you take your houses back to the Common Room.'

Harry frowned. 'Really?' he said, raising his voice just enough for both Slytherin and Hufflepuff to hear him. 'But our, and not to mention Hufflepuff's, common room is in the dungeons, where the troll is.'

As predicted, this caused further chaos, where several students stood up, yelling rebellious slurs towards Dumbledore. The Prefects were caught in a rush of students, and none were successful in rounding up their houses.

Making sure no-one was watching him, Harry ducked into the crowd, slipping out of the main hall. Now was his time to enact his plan, now was the time to enslave the Weasleys.

Meanwhile, Draco was looking around the hall in confusion. He was not informed of this! It was clearly the machinations of Harry, for Quirrell was now bound to him. But what purpose did this serve him?

He turned his head to ask, but there was no-one there. He scanned the room, but no hint of his red cloak could be found.

Draco swore. He must have gone after the troll! But why? It was more likely to get him in trouble for foolishness than anything… unless he had something else planned. Something that would place someone in Harry's debt. But who?

Mind made up, Draco focussed on dissociating his molecules, turning into a fine vapour. He floated through the legs of the crowd, a translucent smoke rushing along the ground.

Draco solidified just outside the door, panting for breath. It was a difficult art, and an exhausting one at that.

He steeled himself, ignoring the danger he was about to place himself in, before sprinting as fast as he could, his destination the dungeons.

Harry arrived to find his, ah, victims huddled against the wall by the Slytherin dorms, shaking with fright. Perfectly understandable, Harry thought, especially as there was a fully grown cave troll leaning over them, sniffing them with its great nostrils.

Cave trolls are stupid beasts. They have a brain the size of a walnut, and only use ten percent of it. In fact, they are so stupid, they forget to use there eyes, relying on there sense of smell instead.

Because of that simple fact, many believed they were completely, or at least mostly, blind. They weren't, and had perfect vision, better even than an ordinary wizard. They just forgot they had eyes.

The typical behaviour of a cave troll is to lumber through their tunnels, looking for either food or an intruder. They lumber on, lacking any form of grace, and use their gaping nostrils to intake the scent of their surroundings. This, however, leads to a large deposit of mucus being left all over their caves, the signifying mark that it is a cave troll's lair and not any other form of troll. The mucus, however, deeply offends the troll, leading to a great deal of pent up rage, rage that they unleash on any living being that they come across.

According to muggle scientists, such a dim-witted beast should not be capable of survival, and that it should have been hunted to extinction by a wiser creature, or at least starved itself to death when it couldn't find any. But then comes the beast's redeeming factor.

A cave troll is among the world's strongest beings, with strength so astoundingly powerful that a charging elephant is seen as no more of a threat than a fly, a nuisance to be swatted away. It has incredibly dense skin akin to rocks, and a skull so thick, none had yet been successful at piercing one, except other trolls. For trolls, being as violent as they are, are prone to infighting, and many troll settlements have been driven to extinction as a result of boredom.

And now, the two pranksters were sitting under this monstrosity, covered in this offensive goop. And what was worse, the beast was armed.

A wild cave troll has been known to use tools on rare occasions - that is, they have thrown boulders at each other, and have used tree branches as clubs. But what the troll in Hogwarts was wearing could only have been made by goblins.

It was a little known fact that the goblins enslaved other creatures to guard their vaults. They had a blinded, albino dragon in their central foyer at the lowest level, but that was not all. They had heliopaths. They had firebirds and thunderbirds. They even had a basilisk. But most importantly, they had an army of hundreds of trolls: mountain trolls, bull trolls and the strongest of all trolls, cave trolls.

But raw strength isn't enough for goblins. These trolls are outfitted in mithril chest-plates and helmets, legs guarded by goblin steel: the two of the three substances stronger than cave troll skin.

But armour was not the only addition. No, they were also given a great and terrible weapon, its terrifying beauty unmatched. It was made Uru: the metal of the gods, the strongest substance in the world. It was a great axe, with a great jagged blade, yet it was also a hammer, a great block of steel protruding from the other end. The handle was sharpened to a deadly point, capable of piercing anything. And to compound its capabilities, it was enchanted - no-one quite knew what enchantments, as none had lived through an assault and lived to tell the tale. All they knew is that the injuries stubbornly refused the influence of magic - if you were stabbed or cut or crushed, you were likely to bleed out, unable to heal.

And in front of Harry stood a Gringotts troll. This was bad. Harry was expecting a simple bull troll, but Quirrellmort

The troll suddenly stopped, sniffing the air. It lunged away from the twins, looking directly at Harry. Its eyes were dead, unmoving, lacking any spark of intelligence.

Harry gulped. 'Uh, Fred? George? You might want to get out of here. It's focussed on me right now.'

George, wide eyed and stiff, nodded, before slowly standing up with his brother. He began to walk forward, but his foot caught on the sticky, slimy mucus, and he went tumbling over, skidding out into the middle of the floor with a painful groan.

The troll whipped round towards the sound, snorting filling the corridors. Fred stood petrified at the side, fearful for his brother's life.

The troll threw back its head, bellowing its war cry, and it planted a foot forward. And then another. Slowly, the troll pounded its way through its own mucus, heading for the Gryffindor.

'Wingardium Leviosa!' Harry intoned desperately, all plans falling apart. The spell took hold of George's collar, and the boy was sent tumbling into his brother.

The troll grunted in annoyance, skidding to a stop. Thump. Thump. Thump. Footsteps matching his pounding heart, the troll turned, glaring at Harry with its dead eyes.

Harry gulped. 'Uh, I don't suppose we could deal with this as civilised folk?' The troll bellowed with fury, and began to make its fateful path back down the corridor towards Harry. 'I guess not.'

The troll swung his weapon towards Harry, who narrowly ducked under the jagged blade. The sound of tearing followed, and Harry watched as half of his scarlet cloak was carried off by the troll.

'You… you… bastard!' Harry yelled, disbelieving. 'That was fine Acromantula silk! Do you know how much that costs?'

The troll bellowed in response, charging at the Dark Lord in waiting. The weapon trailed behind the barrelling beast, whose head was now functioning like a battering ram.

Steeling his nerves, he stared directly at the troll, picturing exactly what he wanted to happen. 'BOMBARDAS MAXIMA!'

A bust of power leapt out of his wand, a supersized blasting hex, planting directly onto the skull of the beast. A burst of heat later, and the troll crashed to the floor, head dangling loosely, connected only by the spine. At least, that was what was meant to happen.

Instead, a simple spark flew out of his wand, fizzling out with a squeaky pop. Harry looked on in disbelief. 'But… I worked it out. The Arithmancy was correct!'

He did not ponder it for long, however, as the troll connected its armour head with Harry's chest , who flew back several feet, skidding to a stop. His chest exploded with pain, with several ribs clearly broken, and one even protruding through his skin. He couldn't give up, however, as the troll was still advancing.

He trembled into a sitting position, whimpering with pain. He had to survive this, for the Greater Good. If he wasn't there, who else could fulfil his mission? He had to survive. He just had to.

Draco skidded through the mucus encrusted dungeons, following the great pounding footsteps that must have belonged to the troll. He focussed on heading towards it, ignoring the yells of the teachers close behind him, instructing him to head back to the Great Hall, to let the teachers handle it.

There was a bellow of 'Bombardas Maxima' that rang through the halls. Harry. There was no great explosion, though. Only a sudden scream, laden with pain.

'Harry!' Draco screamed, skidding round the corner to face the nightmarish scene. Harry, face a ghostly white, lay half-sitting, half-lying down, face contorted with pain. His chest was slathered with crimson blood, and a pale white something was sticking out of his chest. Bone.

Thump. Thump. The thudding of drums filled his head, a dreadful cacophony summoned by his beating heart.

Harry raised his wand, hand shaking. 'Penetribula Mortis!', he spluttered. Whatever it was meant to do, however, did not work. With its free hand, the troll swatted Harry into a wall. He slammed into it, sliding down. Somehow, he was still conscious.

Thump thump. Thump thump. Draco stood, petrified, watching the beast close in.

'Prorsus Repellia!' he tried, desperation dancing in his eyes. It did not work. The troll, rage incarnate, raised its deadly weapon above its head, the light from the torches glinting on the crimson stained blade. The deadly point of its handle fell, finding its home in the stomach of Harry. Blood spurted from the wound, and his pale face turned ashen. His face contorted into shock, and he gave a weak grunt of pain. He slid into unconsciousness, sliding to the floor.

Thump thump, thump thump. THUMP THUMP, THUMP THUMP. 'HARRY!' Draco screamed, rushing over to the body of his brother, the drums growing louder and faster than ever.

The troll pulled the spear out, before levelling it at him. In a fit of rage, he lunged up at the beast, hands gripping around its rock hard neck.

'AVADA KEDAVRA!' a voice yelled.

'STUPIFY!' yelled another.

The troll froze up, struck by the green curse. Seconds later, Draco followed, the red light sending him into unconsciousness, his last thoughts focussed on the dying form of his brother.

A/N: Oh no! Anyway, please check out my other fics. I currently have three other regular stories and a one-shot, with another coming out soon.

Please review! Reviews are the fuel this engine of imagination needs! (And if you're British like me, you'll know all about the fuel shortage).

See you on the 1st November!

By-ye!