-Author's Note:

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Malfoy couldn't believe his eyes when he saw that Jane, Ron and Jack were all still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired but perfectly cheerful.

Indeed, by next morning the trio thought that meeting the three-headed dog had been an excellent adventure and they were quite keen to have another one.

In the meantime, Jane filled Ron and Jack in about the package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and they all spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection.

"It must be really valuable" said Jack

"or really dangerous," said Ron.

"Or both," said Jane

.

But as all they knew for sure about the mysterious object was that it was about two inches long, they didn't have much chance of guessing what it was without further clues.

Neither Neville or Hermione showed the slightest interest in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor. All Neville cared about was never going near the dog again. Hermione was now refusing to speak to Jane, and was ignoring Ron and Jack's existence completely. But she was such a bossy know-it-all that they saw this as an added

bonus.

All the trio really wanted now was a way of getting back at Malfoy, and to their great delight, just such a thing arrived with the post about a week later.

As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by a long thin package carried by six large screech owls.

Jane was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in this large parcel and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped it right in front of her, knocking her bacon to the floor.

They had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel.

Jane ripped open the letter first, which was lucky, because it said:

DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.

It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody

knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch pitch at seven o'clock for your first training

session.

Professor M. McGonagall

Jane had difficulty hiding her glee as she handed the note to Ron to read.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand!"Ron moaned enviously as he passed the note to Jack. "I've never even touched one." He added in a whishful voice

They left the Hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private before their first lesson, but halfway across the Entrance Hall they found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the package from Jane and felt it.

"That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back to Jane with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be for it this time, Potter, first-years aren't allowed them."

Ron couldn't resist it.

"It's not any old broomstick,' he said, "it's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" Ron grinned at Jane. 'Comets look flashy,

but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."

"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle," Malfoy snapped back. "I suppose you and your brothers have to save up, twig by twig.,"

Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow.

"Not arguing, I hope?" he squeaked.

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

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Jane. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir," said Jane, trying hard not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoy's face.

"And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it," she added.

Jane, Ron and Jack headed upstairs, smothering their laughter at Malfoy's obvious rage and confusion.

"Well, it's true," Jane chortled as they reached the top of the marble staircase. "If he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall I wouldn't be in the team …"

"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?" came an angry voice from just behind them. Hermione was stomping up the stairs looking disapprovingly at the package in

Jane's hand.

"I thought you weren't speaking to me?" said Jane

"Or acknowledging our existence" added Ron pointing to himself and Jack.

"Oh yes, and please don't stop now," said Jack, "not when it's doing us so much good"

Hermione marched away with her nose in the air.

Jane had a lot of trouble keeping her mind on her lessons that day. It kept wandering up to the dormitory, where her new broomstick was lying under her bed, or straying off to the Quidditch pitch where she'd be learning to play that night. She bolted her dinner that evening without noticing what she was eating and then rushed upstairs to the common room, the trio found a relatively quiet corner in which to unwrap the Nimbus Two Thousand at last.

"Oh wow," Ron sighed, as the broomstick rolled onto the soft pursuant rug.

Even Jane, who knew nothing about the different brooms, thought it looked wonderful. Sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold near the top.

As seven o'clock drew nearer, Jane left the castle and set off towards the Quidditch pitch in the dusk. She had never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the pitch so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the pitch were three golden poles with hoops on the end.

They reminded Jane of the little plastic sticks Muggle children blew bubbles through, except that they were fifty feet high. Too eager to fly again to wait for Wood, Jane mounted her broomstick and kicked off from the ground. What a feeling – she swooped in and out of the goalposts and then sped up and down the pitch.

The Nimbus Two Thousand turned wherever she

wanted at her lightest touch.

"Hey, Potter, come down!"

Oliver Wood had arrived. He was carrying a large wooden crate under his arm. Jane landed next to him.

"Very nice," said Wood, his eyes glinting. "I see what McGonagall meant … you really are a natural. I'm just going to teach you the rules this evening, then you'll be joining team practice three times a week." And he opened the crate. Inside were four different-sized balls.

"Right," said Wood. "Now, Quidditch is easy enough to understand, even if it's not too easy to play. There are seven players on each side. Three of them are called Chasers."

"Three Chasers," Jane repeated, as Wood took out a bright red ball about the size of a football.

"This ball's called the Quaffle," said Wood. "The Chasers throw the Quaffle to each other and try and get it through one of the hoops to score a goal. Ten points every time the Quaffle goes through one of the hoops. Follow me?"

"The Chasers throw the Quaffle and put it through the hoops to score," Jane recited.

"Now, there's another player on each side who's called the Keeper – I'm Keeper for Gryffindor. I have to fly around our hoops and stop the other team from scoring."

"Three Chasers, one Keeper," said Jane, who was determined to remember it all. "And they play with the Quaffle. OK, got that. So what are they for?" She pointed at the three balls left inside the

box.

"I'll show you now," said Wood. "Take this."

He handed Jane a small club, a bit like a rounders bat.

"I'm going to show you what the Bludgers do," Wood said. "These two are the Bludgers."

He showed Jane two identical balls, jet black and slightly smaller than the red Quaffle. Jane noticed that they seemed to be straining to escape the straps holding them inside the box.

"Stand back," Wood warned her. He bent down and freed one of the Bludgers.

At once, the black ball rose high in the air and then pelted straight at Jane's face. Jane swung at it with the bat to stop it breaking her nose and sent it zigzagging away into the air – it zoomed around their heads and then shot at Wood, who dived on top of it and managed to pin it to the ground.

"See?" Wood panted, forcing the struggling Bludger back into the crate and strapping it down safely. "The Bludgers rocket around trying to knock players off their brooms. That's why you have two Beaters on each team. The Weasley twins are ours – it's their job to protect their side from the Bludgers and try and knock them towards the other team. So – think you've got all that?"

"Three Chasers try and score with the Quaffle; the Keeper guards the goalposts; the Beaters keep the Bludgers away from their team," Jane reeled off.

"Very good," said Wood.

"Er – have the Bludgers ever killed anyone?" Harry asked, hoping she sounded offhand.

"Never at Hogwarts. We've had a couple of broken jaws but nothing worse than that. Now, the last member of the team is the Seeker. That's you. And you don't have to worry about the Quaffle or the Bludgers –"

"– unless they crack my head open."

"Don't worry, the Weasleys are more than a match for the Bludgers – I mean, they're like a pair of human Bludgers themselves."

Wood reached into the crate and took out the fourth and last ball.

Compared with the Quaffle and the Bludgers, it was tiny, about the size of a large walnut. It was bright gold and had little fluttering silver wings.

"This," said Wood, "is the Golden Snitch, and it's the most important ball of the lot. It's very hard to catch because it's so fast and difficult to see. It's the Seeker's job to catch it. You've got to weave in and out of the Chasers, Beaters, Bludgers and Quaffle to get it before the other team's Seeker, because whichever Seeker catches the Snitch wins their team an extra hundred and fifty points, so they nearly always win. That's why Seekers get fouled so much. A game of Quidditch only ends when the Snitch is caught, so it can go on for ages – I think the record is three months, they had to keep bringing on substitutes so the players could get some sleep. Well, that's it – any questions?"

Jane shook her head. She understood what she had to do all right, it was doing it that was going to be the problem.

"We won't practise with the Snitch yet," said Wood, carefully shutting it back inside the crate. "It's too dark, we might lose it.!Let's try you out with a few of these."

He pulled a bag of ordinary golf balls out of his pocket, and a few minutes later, he and Jane were up in the air, Wood throwing the golf balls as hard as he could in every direction for her to catch.

Jane did not miss a single one, and Wood was delighted. After half an hour, night had really fallen and they couldn't carry on.

"That Quidditch Cup'll have our name on it this year," said Wood happily as they trudged back up to the castle. "I wouldn't be surprised if you turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn't gone off chasing dragons."

Perhaps it was because she was now so busy, what with Quidditch practice three evenings a week on top of all her homework, but Jane could hardly believe it when she realised

that she'd already been at Hogwarts two months.

The castle felt more like home than Privet Drive had ever done.

Her lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that they had mastered the basics.

On Hallowe'en morning they woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they'd seen him make Neville's toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practise. Jane's partner was Seamus Finnigan. Which was a relief, because Neville had been trying to catch her eye. Neville instead was Jack's partner, and Jack didn't seem to mind too much.

Ron, however, was to be working with Hermione Bishop. It was hard to tell whether Ron or Hermione was angrier about this.

She hadn't spoken to either of them since the day Jane's broomstick had arrived.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practising!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual.

"Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too – never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said "s" instead of "f" and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

It was very difficult. Jane and Seamus swished and flicked, but the feather they were supposed to be sending skywards just lay on the desktop. Seamus got so impatient that he prodded it with his wand and set fire to it – Jane had to put it out with her hat.

Jack had no trouble making the feather float and after ensuring Professor Flitwick had seen him achieve this once, and receiving 10 points for Gryffindor, he stepped aside and let Neville practice. Neville however seemed to be struggling as much as the rest of the class.

Ron, at the next table, wasn't having much more luck.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill.

"You're saying it wrong," Jane heard Hermione snap. "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the "gar" nice and long."

"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled.

Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her robe, flicked her wand and said,

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about two feet above their heads.

"Oh, well done!' said Professor Flitwick, clapping, "well done"

"Um Professor surely as the first person in class to achieve this I should get points" Hermione Sid in a snotty voice

"Miss Bishop, no student is entitled to points. It is the teacher who decides if you earn them or not." Squeaked Profeasor Flitwick, "I did however award points to the first person who achieved this charm, Jack Granger"

Hermione looked icily at Jack. Then folded up her arms and spent the rest of the lesson pouring

Ron was in a very bad temper by the end of the class as well.

"It's no wonder no one can stand her," he said to Jack and Jane as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor.

"I know mate, she's a nightmare, honestly." Jack muttered in agreement

Someone knocked into Jane as they hurried past her.

"Oy watch where you going" she snapped at the back of their head.

It was Hermione Bishop. Jane caught a glimpse of her face – and was surprised to see that she was in tears.

"I think she heard you."

"So?" said Ron, but he and Jack both looked a bit uncomfortable.

"She must've noticed she's got no friends." Jack added in a softer tone

Hermione didn't turn up for the next class and wasn't seen all afternoon. On their way down to the Great Hall for the Hallowe'en feast, Jane told Ron and Jack that she had overheard Hermione was crying in the girls' toilets, but when she'd tried to speak to Hermione, Hermione had just yelled and screamed at her, and told her she wanted to be left alone.

Both Ron and Jack looked a little more awkward at this, but a moment later they had entered the Great Hall, where the Hallowe'en decorations put Hermione out of their minds.

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

Jane was just helping herself to a jacket potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the Hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table and gasped,

"Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know." He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Percy was in his element.

"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!"

"How could a troll get in?" Jane asked as they climbed the stairs.

"Don't ask me, they're supposed to be really stupid," said Ron.

"Maybe Peeves let it in for a Hallowe'en joke." Jack suggested

They passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions. As they jostled their way through a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs, Jane suddenly grabbed Ron's arm.

"I've just thought – Hermione."

"What about her?"

"She doesn't know about the troll."

Ron bit his lip, and Jack looked uncertain for a moment. They wanted to help Hermione but what should they do?

"Oh, all right," Ron snapped. "But Percy'd better not see us."

Ducking down, they joined the Hufflepuffs going the other way, slipped down a deserted side corridor and hurried off towards the girls' toilets. They had just turned the corner when they heard quick footsteps behind them.

"Percy!" hissed Ron, pulling Jane and Jack behind a large stone griffin. Peering around it, however, they saw not Percy but Snape. He crossed the corridor and disappeared from view.

"What's he doing?" Jane whispered.

"Why isn't he down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?" Jack asked

"Search me." Ron said with a shrug

Quietly as possible, they crept along the next corridor after Snape's fading footsteps.

"He's heading for the third floor," Jane said, but Ron held up his hand. Both Jane and Jack stopped.

"Can you smell something?" Ron asked

Jane sniffed and a foul stench reached her nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean. And then they heard it – a low grunting and the shuffling

footfalls of gigantic feet. Ron pointed: at the end of a passage to the left, something huge was moving towards them. They shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight. It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite grey, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet.

The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

"The key's in the lock," Jack muttered.

"We could lock it in." Ron suggested

"Good idea," said Jack nervously.

"No bad idea" cried Jane "that's the girls bathroom"

Then they heard something that made their hearts stop – a high, petrified scream –

"Oh, no," said Ron, pale as the Bloody Baron.

"Hermione!" they all said together.

It was the last thing they wanted to do, but what choice did they have? Jack pulled the door open – they ran inside.

Hermione Bishop was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went.

"Confuse it!" Jane said desperately to Ron and Jack, she then bent down, and seizing a tap she threw it as hard as she could against the wall.

The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Jane. It hesitated, then made for her instead, lifting its club as it went.

"Oy, pea-brain!" yelled Ron from the other side of the chamber, and he threw a metal pipe at it. The troll didn't even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and

paused again, turning its ugly snout towards Ron instead, giving Jack time to run around it.

"Come on, run, run!" Jack yelled at Hermione, trying to pull her towards the door, but she couldn't move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror.

The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started towards Ron, who was nearest and had no way to escape.

Jane then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: she took a great running jump and managed to fasten her arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Jane hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Jane's wand had still been in her hand when she'd jumped – it had gone straight up one of the

troll's nostrils.

Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Jane clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip het off or catch her a terrible blow with the club.

Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright; Jack went to pull out his wand but the stumbling, staggering troll swung his clum causing Hermione and Jack to have to dive into the ground. Jack's wand spinning off across the floor far away from its owner.

Ron pulled out his own wand – not knowing what he was going to do he heard himself cry the first spell that came into his head:

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

The club flew suddenly out of the troll's hand, rose high, high up into the air, turned slowly over – and dropped, with a sickening crack, on to its owner's head. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

Jack helped Hermione to get feet before searching for his wand. He finally found it next to one of the now destroyed sinks.

Jane loosened her grip on the troll and staggering slightly got to her feet. She was shaking and out of breath. Ron was standing there with his wand still raised, staring at what he had done.

It was Hermione who spoke first.

"Is it – dead?" She asked in a shrill voice

"don't think so," said Jack.

"No, I think it's just been knocked out." Mused Jane as she bent down and pulled her wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy grey glue.

"Urgh – troll bogies." She groaned as she wiped her wand on the troll's trousers.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the four of them look up. They hadn't realised what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at the trio. Jane had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white. Hopes of winning fifty points for Gryffindor faded quickly from Jane's mind.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Jane looked at Jack who was now standing near Ron, trying to get him to lower his wand.

"You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Snape gave Jane a swift, piercing look. Jane looked at the floor.

Then a small voice came out of the shadows.

"Please, Professor McGonagall – they were looking for me."

"Miss Bishop!"

"Yes you see Professor" said Jane quietly "Hermione wasn't at the feast so she didn't know about the troll"

"And why were you not at the feast?" professor McGonagall asked Hermione looking at her sharply

"Yes, I wasn't feeling very well" said Hermione quietly.

Ron dropped his wand in shock, the trio all looked at Hermione in amazement. Was she really lying to a teacher?

"If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck her wand up its nose and Jack protected me 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." Hermione sobbed, tears were once more running down her pale face.

Jane, Ron and Jack all tried to look as though this story wasn't new to them.

"Well – in that case …" said Professor McGonagall, staring at the four of them.

"Miss Bishop I suggest you go to the hospital wing and see madam Pomfrey."

"I'll escort her there" Snape said sharply "I need to visit Pomfrey myself" he added and Jane noticed that he seemed to have injured one of his legs.

"Very well," said Professor McGonagall. Hermione followed a limping Snape out of the bathroom.

Professor McGonagall turned to the trio.

"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first-years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor twenty-five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. Now, you'd better get off to Gryffindor Tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

The trio hurried out of the bathroom and didn't speak at all until they had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else.

"As much as I appreciate the twenty-five points let not make a habit of fighting mountain trolls" Ron laughed

"It was good of Hermione to get us out of trouble like that," Jack admitted.

"Mind you, we did save her." Ron muttered

"She might not have needed saving if she hadn't been hiding in the bathroom all day" Jane reminded them.

They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Pig snout," they said and entered.

The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. The trio hurried off to get plates and join in the festivities.

Hermione Bishop entered the common room an hour later, looking much better than she had

There was a very awkward, very long, embarrassing pause. Then, after none of them moved or spoke she moved thanks to them and then hurried off to bed.

While she did seem to calm down a little from that moment on, Hermione Bishop did not become their friend. There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is not one of them.