Respect for tradition. Absolute poise. Subtlety and cunning.

These were all qualities which Daphne Greengrass was familiar with, based on her upbringing as a scion of one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. But even her formidable composure was put to the test that Halloween night, when she was set against an enormous mountain troll with only her wits and her wand.

Not that she faced it alone, but most of her peers were frankly not up to task. The Muggleborn, Granger, was almost actively unhelpful, refusing to entertain their warning until the evidence could not be ignored. The Patil sisters and Ernie Macmillan fared a little better, but they at least understood the severity of the situation. The only person who'd managed to take everything in stride was Harry Potter. Not that surprising really, given that he was the Boy-Who-Lived.

The boy who'd all but executed the troll when it was already down, right in front of her eyes.

Wincing, Daphne pulled herself upright, gently prodding at her stomach beneath her robes. The creature's club had certainly hit hard, and her skin felt like it was just one massive bruise. Still, she was fairly certain she would survive. She would be fine until they reached the Hogwarts matron, so Daphne directed her attention towards her friend. He hadn't moved at all since taking down the troll.

"Harry," she coughed wetly. Fortunately, there didn't seem to be any blood coming from her mouth. "Harry! Are you alright? Can you hear me?"

Her friend did not respond. He was muttering under his breath, the words inaudible, and staring at nothing with unfocused eyes. Gore was spattered all over his uniform, the bloodstains still visible despite the dark fabric of his robes. Whatever strange weapon she'd glimpsed him wielding was nowhere to be found.

Bottling up her curiosity for now, Daphne cautiously reentered the wrecked bathroom. "Harry!" she called again. The boy remained unresponsive, right until she placed a hand on his shoulder. Bloodshot green eyes finally met her gaze, but it took several seconds before there was a spark of recognition.

"Daphne," he croaked. "You're – you're okay? What about Parvati and Ernie?"

"I'm perfectly fine," she told him. It was a little white lie, of course. She didn't want him to worry when Harry himself looked so terrible. The tiny blood vessels in and around his eyes had burst, making him look like he hadn't slept for a month. Blood was also dripping slowly from his nose. "Granger and the elder Patil are bringing them straight to the Hospital Wing. Harry, are you hurt? What happened to you?"

There was no reply, his eyes becoming unfocused once again.

Daphne grew even more worried, deducing that Harry must have suffered a head injury based on his behavior. Should she ask him to lie down? What little medical knowledge she could remember said not to move a person who had suffered head trauma. She decided to wait for help to arrive, hoping that the other first-years had already alerted the Professors.

It took all of her composure not to retch at the sight of the troll's corpse. The stench of blood, iron and other foul substances strongly permeated the air in the room, making the gruesome scene hard to ignore. She quickly casted the Scouring Charm on both of their robes, which helped to clear some of the more egregious gore.

Professors Snape and McGonagall abruptly burst into the wrecked bathroom, startling her. Both teachers looked rather grim and had their wands drawn. The Deputy Headmistress actually hissed like a cat upon seeing the motionless corpse of the troll. Snape remained impassive, only his eyes narrowing as he quickly cast some sort of spell. Something bright and silvery erupted from his wand to disappear back into the castle.

"Potter! Greengrass! Do either of require medical attention?" barked McGonagall. "What in Merlin's name happened here?!"

Daphne did her best not to break down with relief. "Harry has a head injury, Professor. I'm not sure how severe it is. My stomach is bruised and there might be some internal bleeding."

Both Professors immediately turned their attention towards her housemate. "No sign of external trauma," Snape clinically observed. He lit his wandtip and waved it back and forth. "His pupils are dilating, but Potter is not responding to external stimuli. I believe he shall have to remain conscious until Poppy can evaluate his condition."

"'m fine," said Harry suddenly, before falling silent once again.

McGonagall frowned. "Professor Snape will escort you two to the Hospital Wing," she decided. "I will stay here until the all-clear signal is given."

"As you wish, Minerva," Snape replied curtly. The Professor hit Harry with a spell Daphne recognized as a variant of the Body-Bind Curse, although he perhaps put slightly more power into it than was strictly necessary. Levitating the conscious but still unresponsive body of her friend, her Head of House silently gestured for her to follow.

They travelled quickly without speaking, reaching the Hospital Wing in minutes. Professor Sprout was present, quietly comforting a shell-shocked Ernie Macmillan. She could see Parvati Patil sleeping on a bed, her left arm completely wrapped up in potion-soaked bandages. Her sister fussed over her nearby, while Hermione Granger sat rather awkwardly behind her.

The Hogwarts Matron was Madam Pomfrey, a thin, no-nonsense witch who was nonetheless very well-regarded for her skill in medical magic. She hurried towards the Slytherins immediately, her wand already out and casting several diagnostic charms. "Miss Greengrass, the bruising around your abdomen is severe, but not life-threatening. I'll get you some ointment for it in a moment. Severus, how did Mister Potter receive his head injury?"

"My apologies, Poppy. I can only surmise that it occurred as a result of his encounter with the troll. Miss Greengrass, do you have any idea what might have happened?"

"I'm sorry, sir," Daphne shook her head, "I don't know either."

The Matron's lips compressed into a thin line. "Lay him onto the bed. Severus, please keep Mister Potter absolutely still until I can confirm my diagnosis."

Daphne sank gratefully into a nearby chair to watch the two adults perform their examination. The stream of medical jargon was far too technical for her to understand, but she did catch the word 'concussion'. Madam Pomfrey collected several potions from her office once she was done, administering them one-by-one to the Boy-Who-Lived.

A gentle cough brought Daphne's attention back to the Hogwarts Matron, now holding a jar of some greenish ointment in front of her. "Miss Greengrass, this Bruise Balm is for you. Would you like for me to help you apply it?"

"I'll prefer doing it on my own, ma'am," she said quickly. "Pardon me for intruding, but are the others okay? Is Harry going to be alright?"

The stern woman graced her with a rare smile. "Your concern is appreciated, Miss Greengrass. Everyone will be just fine after a good night's rest. But don't forget to take care of yourself, young lady. There's a privacy screen you can use over there. I'll be waiting just outside in case you need anything."

The Bruise Balm worked almost immediately, soothing the throbbing pain of Daphne's bruises into a dull ache. It was a relief, as she frankly wasn't all that used to that sort of pain. Madam Pomfrey did ask her to stay overnight in the Hospital Wing for observation, which was rather annoying. Luckily the Matron went back to fussing over the others once Daphne had been shown to her own bed.

Professor Sprout came to speak with her wearing a reassuring smile. The Hufflepuff Head of House looked rather frumpy at first glance. Her flyaway hair was gathered into a haphazard bun, while her robes were the tough, rugged sort Daphne normally only saw on wizards who worked long hours in the outdoors. Her expression was kind but firm, triggering memories of Daphne's formidable maternal grandmother.

"Evening, Miss Greengrass. How're you feeling tonight?" Sprout inquired.

"I'm doing well, Professor. I wasn't hurt quite as badly as the others."

"Good. I'd like to speak with you regarding the events of this evening, if you don't mind. I've already had a word with your friends, but I'd like to hear what happened from your point of view."

Daphne didn't bother correcting Sprout's assumption about her familiarity with the group. Out of the five first-years, the only two whom she might actually consider friends were Harry and possibly Ernie. She proceeded to give a quick account of what had happened, with Professor Snape making an appearance halfway through her story.

"Do you have any idea how the beast could have been… incapacitated in such a brutal manner?" asked her Head of House.

"No, sir," Daphne answered. She was more than a little curious about the strange weapon Harry had been holding, but was wise enough to keep it a secret for now. Actually, it might even be better if she muddied the waters a little herself. "Although… I think it could have been some sort of accidental magic, Professor."

Sprout's eyebrows rose into her hair at that little bit of speculation, while Snape's expressionless face revealed absolutely nothing. "Perhaps," he said curtly. "Is that everything you have to tell us, Miss Greengrass?"

There really wasn't anything else she wanted to say. The Hufflepuff Head left after wishing Daphne a speedy recovery, but Professor Snape remained behind. His dark eyes gleamed with some inscrutable emotion as he began speaking again in a low voice.

"You shall serve a single detention with me next week, Miss Greengrass. Mister Potter's punishment shall be decided once he has recovered," he said slowly. "Foolishly rushing in like some… reckless Gryffindor is never a prudent course of action, no matter the circumstances. Consider yourself extremely fortunate to have escaped death or severe injury."

"Privately, I must say that I am disappointed in you," Snape continued. "Befriend Potter if you must, but I do not wish to see you or any other of my students get dragged into danger because of his imprudent courage. You will act to curb his more… impulsive behavior in the future. Is that understood?"

Daphne let her head fall at the rebuke, not daring to meet the Professor's gaze as she nodded. A single detention wasn't worth starting an argument with her Head of House, even if she privately disagreed with him. She had tried to stop Harry from going, although she'd still gone along with him in the end.

"Very well. I shall leave you to your rest. Goodnight, Miss Greengrass."

The atmosphere certainly became much lighter after Snape left. The small group of first-years was still rather subdued, but that didn't stop Padma Patil from trying to lighten the mood. Even Granger opened up a little, although everyone determinedly kept the conversation away from why they were all in the Hospital Wing in the first place.

Fortunately for Daphne, Madam Pomfrey had parchment and quills available in her office. Her parents would not be happy if they didn't hear from her directly about what had happened. She began writing a quick letter to her family, making sure to include a few paragraphs addressing her little brother and sister.

She had just finished writing when Professor Flitwick stopped by the Hospital Wing. Daphne assumed he was here to speak with the Ravenclaw Patil and pretty much ignored him, only to be surprised when the Charms Master suddenly called out to her.

"Ten points to Slytherin for your bravery this evening, Miss Greengrass!" he squeaked. His tone suddenly changed, becoming almost conspiratorial. "Oh, and please do pass on my regards to your uncle for me when you have the time. I'm sure he'd be interested in how much Hogwarts has changed since his time here!"

Daphne blinked. Flitwick's expression was bright, cheery and open, yet it also revealed absolutely nothing. He quickly went back to talking with the other first years after that, leaving Daphne to ponder what the half-goblin could want with her Uncle Gareth.

Shrugging, Daphne pulled a second piece of parchment over and began to write. It was essentially a copy of her previous letter, a simple summary of what happened that evening. She finished just before Madam Pomfrey told them to go to bed, slipping each letter into two separate envelopes. One would be sent to her family home by her personal owl, while the other was addressed to her uncle's desk in the Department of Mysteries.

- BREAK -

Magical forensics was an art, much like potions brewing was. It was therefore no surprise that Severus Snape had such an exceptional affinity for the subject. His education as a Potions Master and background as a former Death Eater gave him certain… insights into forensics. At the Headmaster's direction, he had cordoned off the entire first floor corridor so that he could perform an investigation into the incident.

From what he could piece together, it was clear that Harry Potter had inherited that same foolhardy bravery as his father. Two months in Slytherin had clearly done nothing to dissuade him from leaping headfirst into danger like an idiot Gryffindor. At least the boy appeared to have also inherited a modicum of his mother's intelligence. Not many eleven-year-olds could claim to have survived an encounter with a mountain troll without significant injury.

Snape had very much hoped to have nothing to do with the Potter brat outside of class. But by Merlin's teeth, Potter had to defy all expectations and be Sorted into his House. It had taken every ounce of his professionalism and skill at Occulmancy not to tear his head off when he saw that detestably familiar head of hair in the Common Room that evening.

The Potions Master was well aware that the more… enthusiastic of his students would have taken any overt antagonism on his part as tacit permission to harass the Boy-Who-Lived. The last thing Snape wanted was to have to discipline his own Slytherins for bullying the boy. The irony would have had his despicable father laughing from beyond the grave.

It was galling, but Snape had to grudgingly admit that Potter was at least acceptable for a Slytherin. Certainly, the boy was a better exemplar of the founder's values than several of his peers.

"Good evening, Severus! How goes your investigation into what transpired here?"

Dumbledore's cheery greeting pulled Snape out of his sudden bout of introspection. It was now well after midnight, yet the Headmaster remained as cheerful as ever. "Albus," Snape bowed slightly, "I have concluded my investigation. Was there an attempt to breach the defenses around the Stone?"

"None that I can detect," Dumbledore assured him. "There were several halfhearted probes into the spellwork, but nothing beyond that." The Headmaster had decided to head straight for the third floor, ready in the event he had to ambush or confront their little guest. After all, a single troll was no match for most of the Hogwarts staff, let alone any of the four Heads of House.

"Do you think he let the in troll as a distraction?"

"Almost certainly, I would say. But whatever his plan, he appears not to have been able to take full advantage of the disruption." Dumbledore bowed his head towards the mutilated corpse. "Alas, poor creature." They shared a brief moment of silence before the Headmaster continued. "Have you discovered anything of interest, Severus?"

Snape took a moment to gather his thoughts, looking over the gruesome remains once more. "The cause of death is obvious. Extreme blunt force trauma, applied directly to the back of the head. The result of an overpowered Blasting Curse, perhaps." He waved his wand, casting a series of floating lights to illuminate the corpse.

"Two other areas exhibit similar damage," he continued. "The troll's right knee and the small of its back. Both were targeted precisely in order to immobile and incapacitate. I believe that the evidence points towards someone with significant experience in dispatching such creatures."

"Someone with significant experience? Not Mister Potter, then?"

"The Blasting Curse is a fifth-year spell at minimum, and Potter is no prodigy. Studious perhaps, but he is hardly Merlin himself, reborn or otherwise. And I doubt he has much experience slaying class four-ex creatures, no matter what those ridiculous rumors might claim."

Dumbledore stroked his beard, completely unaffected by the ghastly scene in front of them. "Hmm. Well I'm not quite sure if I agree with your deductions, Severus. The Blasting Curse is not a spell known for its subtlety. Yet force was applied to each target with incredible, almost impossible precision, with none of the characteristic damage done to the surrounding area. Most fascinating."

"Miss Greengrass claimed that accidental magic was responsible," Snape decided to add.

"Indeed? And do you believe her?"

"Of course not," Snape scoffed. "However, I do not know of any spell which would allow an eleven-year-old to accomplish this. The idea that Potter could be capable of casting something like the Blasting Curse at his age is laughable. I shall interrogate him after he has recovered, but I doubt – "

"Thank you, Severus, but that won't be necessary," Dumbledore interrupted. "I believe Pomona or Filius would be better suited to coaxing Mister Potter into telling us what transpired this evening." The Headmaster waved his wand, and Snape felt the thick blanket of a Stasis Charm envelop the area. "Now then, I believe that is quite enough excitement for one night! Would you like to join me in my office for a quick nightcap?"

Snape reluctantly agreed, despite the late hour. He shared a few shots of Firewhisky with Dumbledore before bidding the Headmaster goodnight. The castle was dark and gloomy at this time of the night, mirroring his own somber thoughts as he returned to his rooms in the dungeon.

Dumbledore was quite surprised when Snape burst into his office again less than ten minutes after leaving.

"Albus," he coughed, trying to get his breathing under control. "My quarters have been ransacked."

- END -

A/N: Bit of a shorter chapter this time. Gareth Greengrass is a canon Unspeakable from that weird Harry Potter AR game which I've never played. I'm just using his name and relation to the Greengrass family here, everything else will be pretty much OC.

Flitwick, Snape and McGonagall are all Masters at their respective branch of magic. McGonagall is also the Deputy Headmistress, Snape a former Death Eater and Flitwick a champion duelist. I refuse to believe any of them would have even mild difficulty in handling a troll. The only odd one out of the Heads of House is Sprout, but I'm making the assumption that she's just as talented.

Why is Firewhisky spelt without an e?

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter.