XII. TRUDY THE TROLL
Slytherin Beater.
Out of all of the positions that exist in the sport of Quidditch, that was the last one I expected to end up playing.
(and, while Harry's the youngest Gryffindor Seeker in a century, I'm the youngest female Slytherin Beater in-ever).
Flint had me hitting Bludgers for hours, all to ensure that I could maintain the kind of energy required to relentlessly smack them at the enemy team no matter how long a game runs on.
It would likely be a regular occurrence while I build up my arm strength, endurance/stamina, balance, etc.
Not that I minded; it was strangely cathartic.
According to Flint, who had a creepy grin on his face for the rest of the afternoon, I'm like a 'wolf in sheep's clothing'; an outwardly harmless 'little first year girl'...with a fiery temper and a mean swing. Even better, not only am I lethal with a Beaters bat, but the Gryffindors-and the rest of our opponents-would lower their guard and not take me seriously just like he did.
Then I'd swoop in and knock them off their brooms.
The benefits of being underestimated.
-infuriating though it is.
Craig Walsh, the heavy-set boy that leant me his bat, is my Beater partner-while the prat that said that me being pummeled by Bludgers would be "fun to watch" lost his position on the team.
I would've felt bad if he wasn't a massive twonk.
Not that Walsh is much better.
During our first official practice together, he told me to "stay out of his way" and he'd "stay out of mine" and made it clear that, while he had no choice but to accept that I don't suck and Flint wants me on the team, he isn't happy I replaced his friend-or that a little girl was his new Beater partner.
The Slytherin Keeper, Mr "A bit of entertainment before practice-good thinking, Flint", is a mean-spirited prick named Miles Bletchley. He was...well, a prick, but his snide little remarks had nothing on Malfoy's-and weren't nearly as creative. It was pretty easy to make a smart comment to shut him up.
Wit wasn't exactly one of his strong points, after all.
Something about that was almost disappointing.
The third Chaser(alongside Pucey and Flint), Isaac Dhar, is a tall sixth year boy with a dark complexion and longish black hair.
We don't really interact that much but he doesn't seem to mind me.
He sorta keeps to himself, but he's a decent enough flier.
I got on the best, overall, with Pucey and the team Seeker, Terence Higgs-which isn't really saying a lot, considering my relationships with everyone else(and Higgs not being comfortablewatching a first year girl get beaten to death mid-air by Bludgers doesn't exactly make us BFF's or anything).
Then there's Flint, who was...Flint.
Like with Harry, my position on the Slytherin team is classified/need-to-know information(and even though I was on the team now-out of twin loyalty, not pettiness...okay, maybe I'm just being petty, whatever-I kept my promise to Wood and my mouth shut).
So, naturally, I immediately told Harry and Ron.
I told Malfoy, too.
He might drive me mad, and I wouldn't trust him as far as an elf owl could pick him up and throw him, but...after hewent out of his way to help me, when he saw I wasn't harassing Flint anymore(and my colourful bruises from my 'try out'-and the bruises and scrapes in the weeks that followed; my body pretty much constantly hurts now, and I'm almost always dead on my feet-but in a good way)and asked if I'd finally managed to get him to let me on the team, I figured I owed him an honest answer. He swore he'd keep it to himself-half because he doesn't want to piss off Flint(he wants to join the team next year too)and half because he wants to keep my status as Flint's 'secret weapon' from the Gryffindors as much as we do.
Despite what he did, Malfoy and I are still constantly at each other's throats.
In fact, that very same afternoon after he'd dragged Pucey to the paddock to see me fly, he picked a fight with me in the common room just to make it abundantly clear that what he did for me(well, for the Slytherin team-and, let's be honest, because he wanted to one-up the Gryffindors and Harry; if they were going to get to bend the first year rule, then so would we)didn't mean anything.
Life at Hogwarts became infinitely busier now that I'd joined the Slytherin team.
(not that it hadn't when I was stubbornly training myself and harassing Flint to see me fly-and to stop being a *̥˚sexist asshole*̥˚, but I was so focused on trying to force my way onto the team that I didn't notice; I also didn't spend half the week being pelted by flying murder balls of death, either, so-).
I barely had time to catch my breath between practice-which was bone-breaking at best, homework-Hermione makes me do it when we meet up in the library, sniping back and forth with Malfoy, hanging out with Harry and Ron in between classes, and the classes themselves-which were becoming more complicated and interesting now that we'd finally mastered the basics.
As October progressed, I found myself constantly on the move, the only time the world stood still being my late-night visits to the common room fire, but I wouldn't trade it for anything.
It was invigorating and, god, I loved it.
I can't imagine why I was ever nervous to move up an age group in soccer; playing Quidditch with burly guys twice my age, team Beater, made 11+ soccer pale in comparison.
Almost in no time at all, I was waking up on Halloween morning, two months into Hogwarts-and wondering how time had flown so quickly.
So much had changed from the Sorting Ceremony-in a good way.
I went from being miserable and insecure about my house to making friends with my dorm mates-and Ron, despite his opinion on Slytherins.
Harry and I are solid, despite his opinion on Slytherins.
I'm actually proud to be in my house and, Voldemort(and, you know, Malfoy)or not, I've come to terms with the fact that I belong here-and I'm happy about that.
And, after fighting tooth and nail, I'm on the Slytherin Quidditch team(and sure, I have to fight for the same respect the rest of the guys on the team take for granted, but actually being a member gave me a foothold-and taking a Bludger to the back, and laughing, definitely went a long way-).
The corridors smelt like baking pumpkin and, even though I was aching from head to toe from yesterday's practice and exhausted after I stayed up finishing Hairy Snout, Human Heart(I cried so much), I was in an extraordinarily good mood.
Halloween is, after all, my favourite day of the year.
I didn't think to pack a costume, but Alistair sent me a cute purple witch hat headband to wear(he wanted to send me a headband with an axe sticking out of it-because I'm a 'pain in the axe'-but Dakota threatened to put a real axe through his head and he got the mini witch hat instead).
I literally sprinted to the Great Hall, excited to see the costumes, and the decorations-
The floating pumpkins and hundreds of live bats fluttering around the walls and ceiling and swooping over the house tables didn't disappoint.
The costumes, on the other hand-
"This is a miscarriage of justice!" I exclaimed as I paced back and forth in the aisle between the Slytherin and Hufflepuff tables.
Pansy and Bulstrode were sitting down the table.
Pansy took one look at me, said, "Nope," and walked off.
Tracey and Daphne weren't so lucky.
"It's a school day," Tracey attempted to reason, as she had been for the past ten minutes, "we have to be in uniform-"
"Hang uniforms!" I retorted indignantly. "Hang school days! Hang the rule that says you can't dress up on Halloween! It-it should be a bloody requirement! And what about the professors? Even the teachers at my Muggle school dressed up! Shit, last year, the headteacher came as Prince!"
"Whenyourun a school, you can require people to wear whatever you want-" Daphne told me dryly, "but, as it stands, the requirement at Hogwarts is our uniforms."
"Hang requirements!"
"Why would you put that out into the universe?" Tracey mumbled to Daphne under her breath, mildly horrified at the idea of me running a school.
"You just said costumes should be a requirement," Daphne pointed out, smirking slightly at Tracey's reaction.
"Hang your logic!"
"Okay-just-just sit down and stop-hanging things-" Tracey said exasperatedly as she got up, wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and led me-pouting in childlike outrage-over to take a seat between her and Daphne.
"I can hang whatever I want to hang!"
"Sure you can, Jewel," Daphne drawled.
"Hang you and your patronizing face!"
"I dare you to try."
"Look on the bright side," Tracey quickly offered, trying to defuse the situation to stop me from hanging things-or Daphne, "the Halloween Feast is going to be amazing tonight."
"I've lost confidence that that's true," I deadpanned.
"Come on-Pucey!" Tracey wove her arm about to catch the Slytherin in question's attention and, down the table, a startled Adrian Pucey looked up. "The Halloween Feast is amazing, right?"
"What?" he said, baffled.
You know, I don't think he knows who the hell Tracey is. A random Irish first year girl he'd never seen before just called his name from down the table and demanded to know whether or not the Halloween Feast was 'amazing'; ha, no wonder he's looking at her like she'd just invited him to ritualistically sacrifice her favourite lipgloss with her under a blood moon(or, more accurately, was giving off a mixture of 'wtf', understandable confusion, and slight awkwardness).
When he just kept looking at her weirdly, Tracey rolled her eyes and pointedly gestured her hands at me.
Pucey's eyes slowly followed her motioning.
When they landed on me, his furrowed eyebrows shot up and he abruptly straightened with newfound understanding.
"Oh-right, the Halloween feast is grea-fantas-it's-it's incredible-ly mindblowing?-" Pucey fumbled(likely due to Tracey miming for him to step up his adjective game), "uh, the staff go all out. Knowing you, Potter, you'll love it."
I narrowed my eyes at him slightly before sighing.
"Okay, I believe you-I can always tell when people are lying," I added to Daphne and Tracey offhandedly.
Daphne's eyebrow flew up.
"Wait, seriously?"
"My BS meter is never wrong," I informed her.
Seeing he was dismissed, Pucey-reminding me suddenly of a kid who was doodling in class when the teacher abruptly asked him to name the capital of Argentina(keep in mind, in this hypothetical scenario, he'd been under the assumption they were still working on Maths, not Geography)and somehow, against all odds, managed to get out 'Buenos Aires' thanks to his mate mouthing it at him from across the room-awkwardly went back to whatever he was doing.
The more I thought about it, the more optimistic I felt(well, as optimistic as a self-professed cynic can get).
"The literal bats-like, shit, are those real, or what? Is it just an enchantment, like the ceiling?Do they feed them? What's to stop them from going all-mind the totally intentional pun-batshit on the pumpkins? Did Hagridspritzthem with a special repellent, or is it a magic thing?Can we feed them? Or is it like at the zoo where you're not meant to feed the wild animals? Are they wild or are they domesticated? Where do you even get dozens oflive bats? Did someone on the staff go spelunking with a butterfly net and hope for the best, or does one of them just have a super convenient bat hookup? I mean, don't bats have rabies? What's to stop them from swooping down and going all Krav Maga on our asses? Are they trained? Who the hell trains live bats to act as Halloween decorations? Does PETA know about this? Wait, wait, wait; plot twist, they're actually really vampires.
"Then again, I wouldn't put it past Dumbledore...Oh, shit, they're vampires, aren't they? Are there vampire labour laws we're just casually breaking here? Is the vampire bat thing even true, or is it a myth? Back up, is that how Quirrell got traumatised? Did Dumbledore send him into a dodgy forest to abduct a bunch of vampires to string up as decorationsfor the Halloween feast? That feels morally questionable at best. But, you know, Dumbledore. And wasn't there something about a hag? I'm sure Hagrid mentioned a hag. Wonder how that fits in.
"-Uh, but anyway," seeing Tracey and Daphne's blank expressions-and realising I was rambling about vampire labour laws spelunking with butterfly nets and bat repelling pumpkins, I shifted gears with a sheepish cough, "bats, gravity-defying pumpkins-" I kissed my fingers, "love it, totally on point-and it'll be cool to see, and eat, all the Halloweeny food at the feast-"
"You're thinking way too hard about the bats," Daphne deadpanned, looking at me strangely(personally, I thought I had loads of brilliant points there-but I might be biased). "They're bats. Don't worry about it."
"Pfft. 'Don't worry about it'-" I mocked, scoffing. "Say that again when they morph back into vampires and stick a silly straw in your neck. Or while you're having your second or third rabies shot."
(seriously though-if vampires did try to suck her blood, I can totally imagine Daphne just casually flipping through Witch Weekly, completely blasé about the whole situation; Tracey would freak, Pansy would probably bitch at them, and I'd turn around and bite them back or, like, stab 'em with a fork-).
"I barely caught half of whatever you were saying about the bats-" Tracey quickly interjected before Daphne could retort, "and our defence teacher abducting vampires in a dodgy forest-but I'm glad you're feeling better."
Instead of settling me down, that just made me all hyper and excited again.
Daphne seemed to blame Tracey.
At least when I was pacing she could ignore me.
"You know, if you keep going like this," Tracey remarked as I bounced up and down in my seat like a hyperactive toddler, "by the time the feast rolls around you'll of passed out sleeping in a random corridor somewhere."
Downing my goblet of pumpkin juice with a slight grimace(I might not really like the taste of pumpkin, but I can't deny the seasonal aesthetic), I slammed it on the table in front of me for dramatic effect.
"Sleep is for the weak!"
Daphne snorted.
"She's been like this since we woke her up-" she said, "even when she was 'outraged' she was pacing. Forget waiting for her to pass out-if she doesn't let up, I'll hit her on the head and lock her in a closet."
Tracey did not seem opposed to the idea.
I pouted, slightly deflating.
"Where's your Halloween spirit?" I demanded, throwing my hands up. "Halloween is the best holiday there is!"
"Uh, no," Daphne stated, "my birthday is the best holiday there is-closely followed by Valentine's Day. I'd say Christmas too, but it's so..festive cheery, you know? And I can't abide by carolling and all the tacky decorations."
I wrinkled my nose at her.
"What? No. Screw that, Halloween is amazing! It's spooky and scary and it makes it socially acceptable to dress up and scare the shit out of unsuspecting people! I love Halloween! Every year, no matter where I am, I get my hands on a stack of horror movies and scare myself into having nightmares for weeks. Not to mention the cavities I rack up. And what do you mean, Valentine's Day? You mean, Scramble-To-Find-A-Date-So-You-Don't-Feel-Like-A-Sad-Pathetic-Loser Day? Pfft. If you need an excuse to stuff your face with chocolate, Easter's less humiliating."
Daphne and Tracey stared at me like they thought I was completely off my rocker-not like that's anything new.
"You give yourself nightmares for fun?" Tracey said, incredulous.
"Seriously, what is it with you and Halloween?" Daphne wondered.
"You lot just don't understand how greata good scare is-" I told them, "Look-watch this."
Raising a finger, I looked around the hall for a victim.
Catching sight of my target, I smirked wickedly.
Ron Weasley.
I'd go for Neville, but that seems like a bit of a cheap scare, you know?
Hopping up, I dropped to the floor before Daphne or Tracey had the chance to react-or try to stop me-and sneakily crawled around the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, ignoring the strange looks I received for my amateur 007 imitation(I'm literally dramatically humming The Pink Panther theme in my head as we speak). Seeing Ron obliviously digging into his breakfast, I carefully climbed back to my feet, quietly crept up behind him, and took in a huge breath-
"BOO!"
I grabbed Ron's shoulders and he let out a loud shout and fell backwards off the bench and onto the ground at my feet.
His fork went flying, landing a few feet away with a clatter.
Naturally, I pretty much instantly burst out laughing-hugging my stomach and hunching over in open and unashamed hysterics.
Harry physically jumped but relaxed when he whipped around, saw me, saw Ron, and realised what had happened.
"What the bloody-?!" Ron groaned.
I wasn't the only one who cracked up at the sight of the gangly redhead laying flat on his back with one leg still up on his seat-his face going from white to pink as he gaped up at me in shock and disbelief.
Fred and George gave me a standing ovation.
"Happy Halloween!" I announced cheerfully, throwing out my arms and grinning mischievously.
"No, no it isn't-why did you do that?!"
"Happy Halloween!"
"Stop saying that!"
I hugged Harry from behind.
"Happy Hallo-!"
"Jewel!"
Seeing Ron clambering up, I hastily turned on my heel and legged it.
"This has been fun-see you!"
"Jewel-that wasn't funny!" Ron yelled after me in frustration, just short of shaking his fist. "It-it wasn't-Stop laughing,Harry!"
With a flourish, I dropped back into my seat at Slytherin table.
"You are actually insane-" Daphne said.
Despite that not wrong fact, she and Tracey were laughing.
"I rest my case," I said smugly. "Now," I added, "I'd appreciate it if you'd wait until after the feast to knock me out and lock me in a closet; if I don't get to binge horror movies this year-because Muggle technology doesn't stupid work here, there's no way in hell I'm missing out on my cavities."
꧖ꦿꦸ⊰ ⊱꧖ꦿꦸ
Leaning against the wall outside of the Charms classroom, I waited for the bell to ring and the Gryffindors to be let out.
I got myself kicked out of Defense for being 'disruptive'(...aaand for asking Quirrell if he had a vampire costume I could borrow for the feast tonight, and showing up wearing fake fangs-not one of my more tasteful jokes, but it cracked everyone else up, even Malfoy)-and, assuming Quirrell wouldn't want me back seeing as class was pretty much over anyway, sorta just...wandered off.
Besides, I don't like being taught by Quirrell; it's hard enough even being in the same room as him-let alone for over an hour, multiple times a week, as he stutters his way through a Defense Against the Dark Arts lecture.
I think Snape might be my favourite professor(next to McGonagall, of course)purely because he's so silent. I look at him, and there's just blissful nothingness. At first, that freaked me out, but now it's kinda nice.
When I look at Quirrell, it's like watching two 3D movies simultaneously(one, a suspense thriller, the other, a documentary on waterfowl)...without 3D glasses.
It hurts my head.
I might even say hi to Neville while I'm here.
We haven't really seen each other much outside of Potions since we were almost eaten by that three-headed hell dog.
With everything that's been going on lately, I'd barely even thought about Cerberus-much less the third-floor corridor, any apparent trapdoors, or that grubby little package from vault seven hundred and thirteen.
I'm so busy with Quidditch, it's hard to think of much of anything but my bed.
The end of class was finally signalled and Harry and Ron appeared in a crowd of fellow first year Gryffindors.
Spotting a certain studious bushy-haired bookworm walking alone just behind them, and seeing they hadn't noticed me yet(I'll just run up and jump on them down the hall, give Ron another scare-he looked like he was in a foul mood, anyway), I snuck around and popped up beside her.
"Hey, 'Mione," I chirped.
Hermione beamed at me.
"Hello, Jewel-you're in a good mood," she commented.
I was literally jumping up and down.
"Halloween's my favourite holiday-" I grinned roguishly, "did you see me scare the literal freckles off Ron earlier?"
Looking amused, Hermione made to respond-
"It's no wonder no one can stand her," Ron's voice floated back, "she's a nightmare, honestly."
I didn't get a chance to wonder who he was talking about.
Hermione's face just dropped and her eyes watered.
Before I could react-or even try to save the situation,she'd already taken off past Harry and Ron and vanished down the corridor.
She knocked into Harry, who looked startled.
"I think she heard you," he told Ron after she was gone.
Despite his obvious discomfort, Ron didn't take it back.
"So?" he said instead. "She must've noticed she's got no friends."
"Ron!" I exclaimed furiously.
Harry and Ron wheeled around.
Seeing the dangerous look on my face, they both cringed.
"What the hell?!"
"Jewel, I didn't-I mean-" Ron stammered going red in the face.
Seeing people stop in the corridor to watch, he looked embarrassed.
Tch. Good.
"I'm Hermione's friend-and you know that!" I growled, marching over and threateningly waving a finger in his face causing him to almost fall back.
Ron visibly gulped.
"Come on, Jewel-you know how Hermione is-"
"'How she is?'" I repeated, voice rising and green eyes flashing. "You mean LEVEL-HEADED, HARD-WORKING, KIND and probably the bloody SMARTEST bloomin' person in the ENTIRE SCHOOL? Do you even understand how it feels to come from a Muggle family and suddenly be dumped off the deep end into a world you didn't even know existed? It's bloody SCARY! She's all on her own, trying to keep up with Purebloods like YOU, and she's a Muggleborn so she has to deal with all that prejudice BS-how about you cut her some damn SLACK? At least I hadHarry, someone-and we're stupid 'famous', whatever that matters-and I made friends fast-but Hermione didn't! So, instead of being a PRICK, maybe try to get to KNOW HER-because, if you did, you might actually LIKE HER, you HUMUNGOUS PRAT!"
Harshly shoving past the stunned boys, I raced down the corridor.
"S-she went that way-" a Hufflepuff student stuttered, pointing to the left.
I nodded in thanks and hurried in that direction.
Making an educated guess that Hermione must've beelined for the nearest bathroom stall-she was crying, so it was that, a random empty room/corridor/stairwell somewhere, outside, Gryffindor Tower...okay, damn, she literally could've been anywhere, I got so lucky-I checked three girl's bathrooms, even Moaning Myrtle's(she's an insecure teenage ghost that haunts one of the girl's lavatories on the second-floor-crying, moaning, and occasionally causing small floods), before finally tracking her down, not really giving a damn that I was extremely late to class.
Pushing open lucky door number four, I poked my head inside.
"Hermione? You in here?"
Hearing the sniffles coming from the far stall abruptly stop, I groaned in relief and walked in, door shut firmly behind me.
"Oh, thank god-this is the fourth bathroom I've been to-I was about to start looking in the boy's bathrooms-"
"You don't have to be here, Jewel-I'm...I'm fine," Hermione said in a stuffy voice that fooled nobody.
With a disbelieving scoff, I crossed the room to lean against the stall beside the one Hermione's badly stifled sniffling was coming from.
"No, you aren't," I said bluntly. "And yes, I bloody well do have to be here. Ron was wrong-and a total asshole!"
"But he wasn't wrong,Jewel!" she sobbed out. "Nobody can stand me-I-I don't even ha-have any friends!"
I cleared my throat.
"Okay, I won't pretend that didn't hurt..." I sniffed jokingly.
"What?" Hermione said waterily.
"You said you don't even have friends-" I pointed out, faking being offended, "I mean, what am I then?"
When she didn't say anything, I dropped the act.
-alright, now I'm a little offended.
"Look, you don't have to come out-just listen, okay?" I said, taking a shaky breath and crossing my arms. "I get how you're feeling-I've been there. I memorized my school books-I was that scared that I'd show up at Hogwarts and fall flat on my face. I mean sure," I added under my breath, "I would've done it anyway because they were interesting as hell and, you know, magic-but still.
"And with the friends stuff..." I grimaced uncomfortably but kept going, "back home, I don't have any. The only social interaction I get is school and soccer. I guess, a long time ago, I decided that it was easier to shut myself off from the world, alone, because...because I'm the only person I've ever been able to depend on. But with Harry...my relationship with Harry"-and Dakota and Alistair, "gave me back the courage to reach out to other people and try, even if I might end up getting hurt-and now I have Ron, and Daphne Tracey and Pansy...and you, if you want.
"Ron's an idiot-" I cleared my throat, swallowing through the lump in my throat, "What he said was wrong, okay, so just-ignore him. Screw what he, what anyone else, thinks. You're the smartest person I know-and you appreciate how much I love to read, and the fact that I'm not stupid, in a way nobody else does.
"Everybody's always so surprised when I say something even remotely intelligent, like they'd never of expected it of me-and yeah, maybe it's partially my fault, but it doesn't mean it feels good. And you're as fascinated by magic as I am, and I love hanging out with someone who can talk about books for hours and wants to go to the library with me-do you really think Ron would want to do something like that? You appreciate the nerdier side of me, and it's really nice."
When Hermione still didn't say anything(likely because she didn't have a clue what to say-I wouldn't of), I deflated.
"If you don't turn up, I'll come back after the feast, okay?" I offered, understanding why she wasn't feeling too chatty just now-while thinking about how much this just sucks and how, while Ron is my friend, he could be a complete and utter jerk sometimes. "I'll bring you some sweets."
I'd only just turned to go, when-
"Jewel?"
I spun back around.
"Thank you-" Hermione said in a wobbly voice, "for being my friend. And for what you said. I just-I just need to be alone right now, but-but that doesn't mean-"
"I know," I interjected with a wry smile. "I get it. Trust me. Take all the time you need, 'Mione. If I don't see you, I'll sneak back here with whatever goodies I can smuggle out of the Great Hall.We can eat and bitch about how stupid boys are. Ron being a prime example. It'll be great. Wonder if anyone would notice if I walked out with, like, an entire roast chicken or something-?"
When she spoke again, she sounded choked up.
"...I'd really like that."
"The chicken, or the bitch session?"
"The company. Not the chicken. Please don't steal a roast chicken."
"-No promises."
There were only ten minutes left of History of Magic.
Luckily, Binns was so lost in his lecture that he didn't even notice me sneak in.
Shit, I doubt he even realised I wasn't here the entire time.
In Binns' defence, I have Pansy or Daphne answer for me when he takes attendance, seeing as History is the only class where they can and the teacher will actually think I was the one who responded and that I was even in class(and not notice when I casually army crawl in mid-lesson). Then again, Tracey could and I doubt the ghost would bat an eye-and she's Irish(I'd say Binns is senile-the amount of times he's called me 'Miss Parker' or 'Miss Hopper' or 'Miss Pond' or even 'Miss Poppelwell' is amazing, but it's just as likely that he just gives literally zero shits; at this point, I'd take a 'Miss Porter', 'Miss Polter', or even a 'Miss Potts' and call it a victory).
When I slipped into the desk between Pansy and Tracey, they gave me matching startled/questioning looks.
I just shook my head, mood having taken a steep nosedive after Ron opened his big mouth, stuck his foot in it, and tore apart Hermione's already tenuous self-esteem-and the negative feelings it stirred up in me.
(I swear his mum dropped him on his head as a baby, a lot-and somehow, I feel like Fred and George were involved-).
I felt like I'd barely sat down before the bell forced me back to my feet.
"Hey, you okay?" Tracey asked me as we stepped out into the hall with Pansy Bulstrode and Daphne on our heels. "A bunch of people were going on about seeing you tearing Ron Weasley to shreds between lessons. When you didn't turn up in History by the half-hour mark, we figured you'd ditched."
She looked slightly worried.
Before I could figure out a reply, Malfoy butted in.
"Potter, I heard you went off at Weasley in the Charms corridor-" he remarked with a nasty smirk, "too bad it was over that Mudblood, Granger."
In an instant, I'd grabbed Malfoy by the front of his robes before consciously realising what I was doing, green eyes flashing.
"Don't call her that!" I snarled in his stunned face, not noticing the tears welling up in my eyes. "I am not in the mood-and I'm literally seconds awayfrom punching somebody-Do you really want to be that somebody?"
Malfoy frowned, something in his grey eyes subtly shifting.
"Are you crying?" he said rudely.
Scowling, I shoved him away and rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand.
"Just shut up, Malfoy-"
There was a small break in my voice.
Clearing my throat roughly, I spun on my heel, storming past my now very concerned-looking dorm mates.
-well, minus Bulstrode.
I could hear Tracey Daphne and Pansy all call after me as I took off down the hall, but ignored them(which I doubt Pansy appreciated, so I'd definitely have to deal with that later-which will be so much fun, I'm sure).
An unstable armed explosive of purposefully unlabelled emotions ticked away in my chest, and I just couldn't find it in me to crack a smirk and claw my scrappy/sparky/class clown-ish composure back into place.
Something about this situation just...resonated with me.
And not in a good way.
The Halloween feast was every bit as 'grea-fantas-incredible-ly mindblowing?' as promised, and enough to lift some of the dark(but admittedly aesthetically fitting, considering the holiday being celebrated all around me-in a Wednesday Addams kind of way)cloud swirling above my head, but I couldn't really enjoy it knowing Hermione was crying her eyes out in the girl's bathroom because people suck...and the bad memories that brought up for me.
I wasn't lying when I said I'd been there.
...Aaand then there was Pansy, who spent the first who-knows-how-many minutes going on about me threatening Malfoy and taking off-which, in her words, was "unnecessary" and "just me being melodramatic"-and how she was "genuinely concerned" for me and wanted to make sure I was okay.
'Making sure I'm okay' being code for: 'trying to get me to spill all the gory details of what went down between me and Ron'.
I didn't want to go into it, showing more interest in idly poking the food on my plate, which did not go down well with the brunette.
-So. Much. Fun.
Tracey's fussing and Daphne's more subtle concern weren't any better.
(a part of me did distantly appreciate it, though; I dove in headfirst from the train...despite an initially rocky start, but I'm still not completely used to this whole 'friendship' thing yet, much less people outside of my adoptive family noticing or even caring when I'm upset-it felt weird, like in the beginning when Dakota or Alistair would act like they cared about me as a person and not just sorta objectively-like when you see those really depressing ads on TV with the disadvantaged kids designed to make you feel bad, and donate, but after thirty seconds it's over and you've already continued with your day because it ultimately doesn't directly affect you, as blunt and cynical as that sounds-or as a meal ticket/hideous burden, and I didn't really know what I was supposed to do beyond brushing it off and silently hoping they'd cut it out so I wouldn't feel so awkward...let's not examine how sad that statement actually is, thanks...).
After a while, fed up and figuring I'd suffered through enough of this, I sneakily scraped my leftovers onto Tracey's plate while she was distracted and started to pick out things I thought Hermione would like-
When the sound of shoes slapping against stone caught my attention.
All of a sudden, Quirrell of all people was sprinting into the hall, his turban sideways and his face awash with fear.
-was he not at the feast this entire time?
Watching wide-eyed as he rushed up to the High Table, slumping against it in front of Dumbledore, I felt something in my chest tighten.
My stomach did an apprehensive pirouette.
"Troll-in the dungeons-thought you ought to know," he gasped loud enough for the entire room to hear.
Then, he promptly dropped to the floor in a dead faint.
And Pansy called me melodramatic.
There was a roar of terrified voices.
It wasn't until I registered the weight in my hands and looked down that it clicked, like an invisible sucker punch to the gut.
The plate dropped.
Hermione.
Several purple firecrackers exploded from Dumbledore's wand, breaking through the noise.
"Prefects, lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"
I could hear Percy all the way across the hall.
"Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!"
(I don't really think trolls give a damn whether or not you're a prefect, but go off, Perce).
As I stood up and found myself lost in a sea of Slytherins, my mind quickly flipped through my options and came to a decision.
The troll is in the dungeons.
The girl's bathroom Hermione was in is near the dungeons but far enough away that it's unlikely the troll will end up anywhere near it.
So logically I could leave it.
Hermione'll probably be completely fine.
If she stays put.
But if she leaves, she could end up-
And it's likely she'd only leave to check up on me, wondering where I am when I promised I'd steal a roast chicken and come keep her company/bitch about Ron and male stupidity, so it'd be my fault if she-
And that's a pretty shitty reason to want to do the right thing and warn your friend about a rampaging troll but, you know, I'd rather not have a pancaked Hermione on my conscience-
(and I'd charge up and tell the professors, but I doubt they'd listen-if anything, I'll probably get brushed off, patted on the head, and sent off to my common room; coming from me, they might even assume it's a stupid joke, and by the time they realise it isn't and go to the bloomin' bathroom-).
Mind made up, I pretended to follow my house prefects only to slip away when nobody was paying attention, using the crowd as cover as I-
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Malfoy hissed, snatching my sleeve and yanking me back.
Fiery green clashed against icy grey.
"Hands off, Blondie-" I snapped impatiently, my window of opportunity slimming the longer I stood in the Entrance Hall bickering with Malfoy.
If anything, his hand tightened on my arm.
"Are you crazy?" he seriously wondered. "There's a troll loose in the dungeons!"
"And where is our common room?" I retorted bluntly, not giving him a chance to reply(it was rhetorical, anyway), "if anything, I'm being smart going in the opposite direction from the bloody dungeons!"
"That-wait..."
Malfoy blinked in realisation.
"Our common room is in the dungeons," he said blankly.
"Dumbledore pretty much just sent us all off to be used as trollnip," I added dryly. "That or a distraction to give the less morally ambiguous houses a chance to escape. I figure they're just jealous. Evil is the new sexy."
"Evil's the new-?"
Malfoy gaped at me for a moment before shaking his head, refocusing.
"Okay, so you have a point about the dungeons," he admitted, looking slightly uneasy, "but that doesn't mean you can just go running about the castle with a troll on the loose. That's stupid, even for you-"
"'Even for me?'" I repeated, offended.
"I wasn't saying-" he looked frustrated, "You know that's not what I meant."
My chin jutted stubbornly.
"Look-" I messed up my hair, "I don't have time for this, Malfoy. Hermione's in the girl's bathroom and she has no clue about the troll. I need to go get her. I know you don't give a damn about anybody but yourself, but Hermione's my friend. I'm not going to go sit safely in our common-okay, play dungeon roulette and hope like hell the professors aren't using us as bait while she's waiting in the bathroom like a sitting duck with a troll wandering about the school playing bloody tourist!"
I neglected to mention that I seriously considered doing just that.
Mostly 'cause I'm lazy like that.
And the bathroom is kinda far, you know?
But whatever, my mind's made up, and when I've made up my mind on something it'd take a bloody miracle-and a lot of blunt force-to get me to change it.
Not that Malfoy, of all people, could've judged me for the less than heroic way I came about deciding to go warn Hermione(and it's not like I'm lying, I'm just-making it sound a bit nobler than 'if she left the bathroom and died it'd kinda be on me and I don't want that shit on my conscience').
Malfoy dropped my arm, his face hard.
For a second, I thought he might've even been slightly hurt.
"It's your funeral," he spat.
Oh, you'd love that, wouldn't you? I couldn't help but think wryly.
Not dignifying that with a response, I spun on my heel, weaving my way through the crowd and awayfrom the blonde.
꧖ꦿꦸ⊰ ⊱꧖ꦿꦸ
I had to dart into a random empty classroom and take cover when one of the Ravenclaw prefects almost spotted me but, as soon as the noise of students being herded away from the dungeons(-as opposed to the Slytherins/probable troll bait)receded, slipped out and legged it towards the bathroom.
...At least, until I heard a scream;a horror-movie-worthy, high-pitched, abso-bloody-lutely terrified-sounding scream.
I skidded to a stop.
-oh, shit.
For a moment, as brief as it was, I considered not running towards the scream even as I recognised who it belonged to(or, rather, who it had to belong to)-and felt like a horrible excuse for a friend for it.
But, I mean, I enjoy being alive.
It's not like I can be blamed for not wanting to get bludgeoned to death.
It's basic self-preservation.
You hear someone screaming like they're being chased by an axe-wielding maniac(who moonlights as a biology teacher), and there's a troll on the loose, the smart thing to do is to go the other way.
But, then again, I doubt Hermione's keen on being pancaked either.
And nobody else knows where she is, or that she ditched the feast('cause Ron's an asshole)and has had no idea she was in any dangerat all, and by the time it calms down enough for somebody to notice-
"Dammit," I groaned, throwing back my head. "I have to do the stupid right thing, don't I?"
Heaving a sigh, I started running again-
Only to almost immediately freeze when I heard two alarmingly familiar voices sound from around the corner.
"Hermione!"
Oh, for god's sake-
"What are you idiots doing?" I demanded as I stepped into the next corridor, staring Harry and Ron down.
Their eyes were glued to the girl's bathroom door(which set off all kinds of alarm bells), the looks on their faces so horrified that it was almost funny(life-or-death situation aside)-but, at my exclamation, they jumped violently and wheeled around to face me, jaws scraping the stone floor.
"Jewel?!"
"Yeah, hi, how ya doin'?-wonderful weather we're having," I rambled slightly, gesturing my hands. "Now, what the actual hell are you two knuckleheads-wait, scratch that-" I held up a hand, switching gears, "we'll come back to why you're lurking outside of the girl's toilets while a troll's taking an unsanctioned, self-guided tour of thecastle dungeons in a sec-"
"We aren't lurking-" Ron argued, ears going pink, "we were just-"
"-where's Hermione?"
That shut him up.
"Helllooo-Hermione Jean Granger, chop-chop-" I clapped impatiently when Ron and Harry just stared at each other like they were having a silent argument on who was going to be the one to tell me.
In sync, they wincingly pointed at the bathroom-and the key sticking out of the lock.
There was a crash and loud footsteps coming from inside.
Like earth-shaking footsteps.
My fingers made a rough trip through my hair.
"The troll's in the bathroom, isn't it?"
Their faces said I'd hit the nail right on the head with my metaphorical hammer.
"Of course it is."
I wanted to rip out my hair.
Or start crying.
Or both.
And maybe I would've-if a pesky little realisation hadn't smacked me in the back of the head.
The troll's in the bathroom.
Hermione's in the bathroom.
And, from the looks of it, these dumbasses locked the door.
(why was the key even hanging out of the lock in the first place? Whose genius idea was that? What was the thought process there? 'Hm...keys go in locks, this is the lock this key belongs to...aha, perfecto!' I mean, what if some asshole just came along and locked someone-oh, right-).
"We accidentally, er-" Harry looked sheepish, "I mean-" he and Ron shared a quick look, "the door's locked, and Hermione's in there-we've got to-"
"Oh, for Merlin's sake-just move, dimwits!" I ordered brusquely, not really giving a damn how this happened or what we've got to do as I swiftly pushed past them and wrenched the key in the lock.
As cautiously and silently as possible, I pushed the door open and peered around the frame to scope out the situation-only to stumble inside, and almost fall over, when Harry and Ron hastily followed on my heels and charged in blindly(which is either a them thing or a Gryffindor thing-either way, my Slythernness and well-developed survival instinct no likey-). Before I could shove them back out, I spotted Hermione and stopped short, mouth going dry.
She was pressed up against the far wall in terror as a massive, grey, strangely lumpy-looking mountain troll advanced on her, knocking off sinks and sending them crashing to the floor as it went.
"Now would be a good time to come up with a plan," I said breathlessly. "Like, of any kind. I'm open to anything."
"Confuse it!" Harry instructed me and Ron desperately, thinking on his feet.
Ron snatched up a nearby broken-off tap.
Suppose you're wondering what MY naturally brilliant course of action was, huh?
"Now I've had the time of my life!-"
Ron stopped mid-throw to stare at me, speechless.
"-No, I never felt like this before, yes I swear, it's the truth, and I owe it all to you-!"
"I said confuse it, not serenade it!"
Harry looked beyond incredulous.
"Then say that next time, blockhead!"
"I didn't think I had to!"
"Guys-the troll!" Ron hissed, reminding us of the situation at hand.
There was a loud crash in the background, and I winced.
"Oh, shit, right-uh-"
Floundering for a second, I impulsively ripped off my witch-hat headband and hurled it through the air, striking the troll in the back of the head.
"OI! YOU FOUL-SMELLING, UGLY BERK!" I cupped my mouth, "WHY DON'T YOU PICK ON SOMEBODY YOUR OWN SIZE? LIKE EASTERN EUROPE! Oh, wait, you said confuse not insult-shit, uh, SUPERCALIFRAGILISTICEXPIALIDOCIOUS?! A SHIP-SHIPPING SHIP SHIPS SHIPPING-SHIPS! PROCESS THE REALITY OF DEATH! WHO ARE YOU? LIKE, SPIRITUALLY-IN YOUR GUTS AND INTESTINES AND STUFF? HOW MUCH WOOD WOULD A WOODCHUCK CHUCK IF A WOODCHUCK COULD CHUCK WOOD?
"Uh, TEENAGE HORMONES? THE DOPAMINE AND NOREPINEPHRINE SURGES THAT RELEASE IN YOUR BRAIN WHEN YOU'RE IN 'LOVE'? WHAT THE HELL IS A 'QUINOA', AND WHY IS IT TECHNICALLY A FRUIT IF THE LEAVES ARE EATEN AS A VEGETABLE! AND IF IT'S A BLOODY SEED, WHY IS IT CLASSIFIED AS WHOLE GRAIN?!-"
As my voice bounced off the walls, Ron reeled back his arm and launched the tap with all his strength against the wall.
To everyone's immense relief, the troll stopped short before reaching Hermione(like, holy shit, my throat already hurts from all the shouting-oh, right, and Hermione isn't dead, which is also a very good and relieving outcome-), blinking around stupidly as it tried to find the source of all the noise.
Its eyes fell on Harry and, club raising, it began to make its way towards him.
Without thinking, I'd pushed the startled boy behind me-glaring furiously up at the troll as I dared it to try anything.
Grabbing a metal pipe, Ron more helpfully lobbed it at the bloody thing's head.
"Oy, pea-brain!"
(I mean, it hit its shoulder, and it literally did not react at all or even seem to notice, but the shouting was perfect-).
The troll turned in Ron's direction and, seeing our opening, Harry and I sprinted for Hermione who was sinking flat against the wall.
"We need to go!" I urged, grabbing onto her arm.
"Come on, run, run!" Harry was yelling.
She was paralyzed with fear, mouth hanging wide open.
No matter how hard we pulled and pressed and pleaded with her to snap out of it, she refused to budge.
I was about three seconds from bitchslapping her(because it's not often you get the opportunity to bitchslap someone and get away with calling it helping)when the troll went completely berserk, unable to handle all of the noise bouncing off the walls, and let out a hair-raising roar.
Its beady eyes focused on Ron, who was closest and had no escape.
Well, I mean, Ron's really more Harry's friend, you know-
Someone was running and, when I realised Harry was no longer beside me, I shot up in alarm and dropped Hermione's arm.
Before I could stop him, Harry had stupidly/objectively bravely/but mostly stupidly leapt onto the bloody troll's back and wrapped his arms around its neck(his wand, to my disgust, ending up flying up its nose).
The troll twisted around, howling and flailing its club.
"Harry!" I cried out and, just as thoughtlessly, lurched forwards.
The next thing anyone knew, my feet were leaving the ground and the troll, angry and confused by the sudden added weight to its club that did not exist a moment ago, was holding me up to eye level.
It looked about as confounded as I did.
"Jewel!" Ron exclaimed sounding shocked and worried.
(...which kinda made me feel guilty for thinking about letting the mountain troll eat him as a distraction to get me and Harry-and Hermione too, I guess-to safety; not to say he wouldn't deserve it-this whole situation could've been avoided if he wasn't such an insensitive prat-).
I'm pretty sure hanging onto the wooden club was giving me splinters.
But, you know, that's probably the least of my problems.
Harry gaped at me from over the troll's shoulder, mouth hanging open, while the troll itself just stared at me blankly, not seeming to understand what the hell I was doing hanging off its club(shit, I don't really understand the chain of events and I'm the reckless, impulsive dumbass that did it).
"Heeey, Trudy-can I call you Trudy?" I rambled, cracking a sheepish grin, "You look like a Trudy. About the whole calling you ugly thing-"
Shaking off its shock, the troll's face twisted and it suddenly roared in my face.
My ears started to ring, its rotten breath making my head spin counter-clockwise, and I coughed and gagged. My hold on the club slipped and, before I could pull myself back up, my world was being shaken up and down and around and around like I'd been dropped on my head into a food processor.
Trudy had decided to try to dislodge me, it would seem.
Fantastic.
"Jewel!" Harry yelled, "You have to let go!"
"Don't you think I would if I could?!"
My voice seemed to vibrate as I desperately clung to the troll's club.
Ultimately, the choice was taken away from me.
It all just happened so fast.
One second, I was being shaken side to side until I started seeing stars-and the next, the troll had clumsily grabbed onto its club with its other hand and flung it-and me-sideways and I was airborne.
I don't even remember letting go of the club.
-but I sure as hell remember how much it sucked when I collided with the wall.
"JEWEL!"
I slid down and landed in a pile of dust and broken sinks.
My entire body hurt.
(it was like tripping off a platform or a stage or something and landing roughly on the ground...only for the room to suddenly shift on its axis, sending me sliding downwards for round two-).
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Groaning in pain, I groggily tilted my head-only just catching the dumbfounding sight of Ron levitating Trudy's club.
The hunk of wood flew into the air, rising higher and higher, before slowly turning over and dropping right onto its owner's head with a nasty/audible crack. The troll swayed and, for a moment there, I seriously worried that that bonk to the head wasn't gonna do anything and it'd come for revenge-
Trudy toppled over and collidedwith the bathroom floor, face first, with a loud room-shaking thud.
Nobody was pancaked.
Which is something, I guess.
It's hard to be enthusiastic when you feel like you were just backed over by a runaway freight train.
"Jewel!"
Harry was suddenly leaning over me on his knees.
He looked terrified.
"I-I think I'm okay-" I groaned. "I just hurt-so much-"
Harry carefully helped me sit upright and I winced at the pain radiating in my back, hand holding onto my left shoulder.
It was worse than the bloomin' Bludger.
I was covered in dust and debris and my head was spinning.
Ron remained frozen across the room, his wand still raised, rendered speechless by what he'd done.
"Is it-dead?" Hermione breathed.
Now she snaps out of it?!
Seriously?!
After making sure I was okay-ish, Harry went over to check on Trudy.
"I don't think so," he replied. "I think it's just been knocked out."
Bending down, Harry pulled his wand out of the troll's nose.
"Urgh-troll boogers."
I cringed in disgust at watching my Gryffindorier half wipe the lumpy grey liquid on the troll's trousers.
A door abruptly slammed in the distance and I jumped-before quickly flinching at the pain that shot through my body at the movement.
Hurried footsteps came thundering in our direction.
In retrospect, we weren't exactly quiet about taking Trudy down, I mused wryly.
The door burst open and McGonagall appeared, closely followed by Snape and Quirrell.
Why they brought Quirrell, I have no idea, because the moment he saw the troll he grabbed his heart, whimpered, and sat down on a nearby toilet seat.
McGonagall stared from Harry to Ron, speechless and furious.
She didn't seem to notice Hermione against the wall, or me on the floor.
Snape bent over the troll-probably to see if it was still alive(whichHarry had already vaguely confirmed before they got here, though I doubt the Potions master would take his or Ron's word for it).
"What on earth were you thinking of?" McGonagall said, her voice cold and angry.
Harry glanced helplessly at Ron.
His wand was still up in the air.
"You're lucky you weren't killed." The Transfigurations Professor was beside herself, "Why aren't you in your dormitory?"
Snape gave Harry a piercing look that had him staring at the floor.
It didn't take a genius to guess he was wishing for Ron to put his damn wand down.
"Please, Professor McGonagall-they were looking for me," Hermione suddenly said in a small voice.
I looked back at her in surprise as she climbed to her feet.
"Miss Granger-" McGonagall gasped-only to gasp again when she saw me sitting on the floor surrounded by broken sinks and clutching my shoulder. "Miss Potter!"
"M'lady," I quipped with a forced smile that felt more like a grimace.
Snape looked up sharply, taken off guard.
For a split second, our eyes met, and I could've sworn I saw a hint of concern before he looked away.
I probably did, I mean-I'm surrounded by broken sinks, I have little cuts all over me, a splinter or two, my hands are grazed to hell, my entire body hurts...
Who the hell wouldn't be concerned?
It's a bloody concerning sight!
"Are you alright?" the deputy headmistress pressed, putting her imaginary can of whoop-ass back on the shelf for the time being(not to say we're out of the woods yet...but, thinkin' about it, I'm, you know, injured-so, if she gets mad again, I can just cash in my pity points and throw these dimwits under the bus-and use the pity points I get from said dimwits to keep them from getting too pissy with me later when I do said 'under the bus' throwing-). "What on earth happened?"
"The troll threw me at the wall-but I'm good-" I threw up my thumb, "I'm-I'm great-this-this was a great time-"
Letting out a huff, I dropped onto my back.
"Jewel!"
"Shut up, I'm dead,"I groaned.
Realising I was fine, Harry relaxed with a sigh of relief.
A dramatic little shit, but fine.
(-would it be weird if I tried to make snow angels with the broken sinks? That'd be weird, wouldn't it? Ugh, thinking is so much work-).
McGonagall looked at Hermione incredulously for an explanation.
"I went looking for the troll-" she lied, "I-I thought I could deal with it on my own-you know, because I've read all about them."
Ron dropped his wand.
I leant my head back to stare at her, wide-eyed.
"If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose-and Jewel grabbed its club to stop it from hitting him-that's when it threw her into the wall-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."
Harry Ron and I quickly schooled our features into somewhat innocent expressions-as if Hermione wasn't semi-lying straight to their faces.
Hermione Granger lying to a professor.
That has to be one of the signs of the oncoming apocalypse; 'the sky will rain down with blood, and Hermione Granger will lie to a professor.'
"Well-in that case...Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"
Hermione hung her head.
"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this. I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor Tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."
As Hermione walked by, I caught the edge of her robes.
She looked down at me, startled.
"Sorry about your roast chicken, 'Mines," I said a bit seriously but mostly in a playful way, knowing she'd get my underlying meaning('sorry these dipsticks made you cry and trapped you with a troll when we were supposed to have a bitch session, and eat whatever I snuck out of the Great Hall, until you felt better'). "It's not the same thing but, if you don't mind the company...breakfast sausages, toast, eggs, and bacon? We can sit together at Gryffindor."
Seeing the way her face brightened(both at the offer and, I suspected, the new nickname-of a preexisting nickname)made me feel marginally less guilty about considering leaving her to get pancaked by Trudy.
"I'd like that," she agreed softly.
I let go of her robes, but she didn't move right away.
"Thank you, Jewel-" her brown eyes shone with gratitude. "For today. And just...everything. You're a really good friend."
"That's what I've been telling everyone!" I complained jokingly to cover my discomfort, ignoring the rush of warmth in my face.
She just smiled knowingly, looking surprisingly happy for someone who had just narrowly survived a mountain troll attack.
After Hermione was gone, McGonagall turned back to me Harry and Ron.
"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win your houses five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."
Harry and Ron helped me stumble painfully to my feet.
"Not you, Miss Potter."
We looked up in surprise.
"You were thrown into a wall by a mountain troll-" her mouth tightened, eyebrows knitting, "you need to go to the hospital wing."
"I was lying-it was more of a light toss-I barely even felt it-"
"Potter."
McGonagall looked at me sternly.
"I just want to go curl up in my dorm-" I pleaded, "I promise, I'll go straight there after breakfast-the last thing I want is to screw myself up for Quidditch. Look, I didn't break, sprain, or fracture anything-I don't have any open wounds-I'm not bleeding-and I'm not concussed; if I was, I'd be throwing up-or all dizzy-or slurring my words, or something-I've had them before, so I know how they feel. I'm just one big human bruise, which I can deal with-tomorrow."
The deputy headmistress wavered.
Pity points; irksome but effective.
"Oh, alright," she sighed grudgingly against her better judgement. "But you'd better be in the hospital wing first thing. No excuses. No detours. No holding it off until the last possible second. I'll make sure to have you excused from your first lesson of the day-pending Madam Pomfrey's examination."
(I'm sure she wanted to tell me to forgo breakfast instead but, remembering my conversation with Hermione, seemed to think better of it; she might act all strict and no-nonsense, but McGonagall is such a softie-).
I nodded in agreement and relief.
"Potter-Weasley-help her to the dungeons. If it looks like she can't handle the rest of the way herself, I don't care how belligerent she gets, take her to the hospital wing immediately. Understood?"
Both boys nodded seriously.
I pulled a face, but didn't argue.
Harry and Ron helped me down the dungeon stairs-and, after making sure I could, debatably, walk by myself, reluctantly left me to it.
Getting the right wall...eventually, I grunted out the password and shuffled inside to find everyone sitting around with plates.
A table had been set up with leftover food from the Halloween Feast.
"Oi, Potter!"
Hearing Malfoy's voice, I looked up quickly, swaying a little bit dizzily on my feet at the sudden movement.
Malfoy hurried over, abandoning his food.
"Uh-Malfoy-hi-" I coughed, rubbing my head.
He took in my rough state in shock.
"What on earth happened to you?"
"Um-the troll was in the bathroom...?"
"What?!"
"Ha-" I snorted, pulling a piece of porcelain from my hair and dropping it, "I had some of the sink in my hair-"
Malfoy gawked at me.
At that moment, Tracey Daphne and Pansy rushed over.
"There you are!" Pansy huffed as they approached us, "we thought you were right behind us but, when we got to the common room, you were nowhere to be seen-we thought you'd been eaten or something-you better have a good excuse, freaking us o-oh my god!"
Catching sight of my stellar appearance, they stopped dead.
"Holy hell, Jewel!" Tracey squeaked, wide-eyed.
"What the hell did you do?" Daphne demanded, "Throw yourself down the Entrance staircase?"
"I got thrown into a wall," I sniggered.
"Are you laughing?" Malfoy said in disbelief.
"I dunno-see, I got thrown into a wall-"
"You said that," the blonde stated.
"Oh. Did I?" I squinted at him in surprise.
Even Malfoy looked concerned.
-okay, maybe I have a slight concussion.
Whoops.
"What do you mean you were thrown into a wall?" Pansy blurted.
I gave them a quick, disjointed run down only to get cut off mid-way through.
"...Please tell me you didn't grab a troll's club while it was holding it-"
Tracey looked like she wanted to both hysterically laugh and start crying out of sheer exasperation and incredulousness.
I cringed and made a 'little bit' gesture with my thumb and pointer finger pinched together.
Malfoy facepalmed.
Physically hit himself in the face.
"I'm eleven, and I can already feel myself going grey," Daphne was mumbling to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose in the same way Dakota does when I'm being especially exasperating, "you-you're turning my hair grey. It's stress. I'm going grey from the stress of being friends with an insane person-"
Pansy looked genuinely beyond words.
Pansy Parkinson; speechless.
-wow.
"In my defence, I was gonna let it eat Ron!" I exclaimed, waving my arms and grinning sheepishly as my face flushed pink.
"Oh, so you have some brain cells-that's nice to know," Malfoy muttered snidely but, I could swear, he looked almost amused despite the situation.
I opened my mouth to retort, but Tracey hastily intercepted.
"Okay!" she said loudly, "so, what happened next?"
She shot Malfoy a look, and he rolled his eyes hugely.
Taking a huge and slightly overdramatic breath, I resisted the urge to flip the grey-eyed boy off-or stick out my tongue or something-and continued on with my all-over-the-place retelling of the night's thrilling events.
"-Anyway, so I was hanging by the club-which is a completely..." I trailed away seeing Malfoy Daphne Tracey and Pansy's deadpan expressions, "-Okay, so maybe it was kinda reckless and stupid-" I conceded grudgingly, pouting slightly as my shoulders slumped, "and, in hindsight, wouldn't of actually done much to help Harry-and probably gave everyone a heart attack, but whatever-anyway, so Trudy gotall pissy-which I probably should've expected-and the club went whoosh and-"
"'Trudy?'" Tracey Daphne and Pansy repeated, taken aback.
"Who's Trudy?" Pansy added slowly, eyeing me like she was worried I might've officially lost it. "Aside from Potter Weasley and Granger, you didn't mention anyone else in the bathroom with you-"
Suddenly, Malfoy's eyes lit up in realisation.
"Wait-" he interrupted disbelievingly, "did you name the blood-thirsty mountain troll trying to murder you?"
"Uh, well, you know-"
Pansy Daphne and Tracey gaped at me.
"You named the-?!" Pansy sputtered.
"Of course you named the troll-" Daphne deadpanned, "you're a raging lunatic. Thinking about it, I'd almost be more surprised if you didn't. But, raging lunacy aside-why the hell aren't you in the hospital wing right now?"
"I told McGonagall I was fine-"
"Nuh-uh. Nope-"
Daphne grabbed my arm, and I winced.
"How is that fine?" Malfoy scoffed seeing my pained expression.
"The walk here was not kind," I mused.
"Let's get her to the hospital wing before she dies," Pansy huffed with an eye roll, rubbing her forehead.
"Hos-I'm completely fine! I don't need-" I argued only to abruptly grasp my aching head and cringe. "Ugh-my brain hurts!"
Malfoy facepalmed yet again.
"There is something psychologically wrong with you."
"I-think I've lost the right to argue against that for the moment," I mumbled wryly and he snorted.
"Just for the moment?"
I stuck out my tongue childishly.
"Come on, you bloody idiot," Daphne sighed.
"But I don't wanna walk that far-" I moaned, rolling back my head.
"Walk or die, Potter!"
"...Well, I mean..."
"How is that even something you need to think about?!"