Disclaimer: see chapter 1
The Misplaced Potter
Chapter 11
In which a troll is fought
"Oh, no," Hermione moaned.
With her hand over her mouth, she broke from the Gryffindor ranks and ran for the nearest girl's lavatory. She had thrown up twice already that day but stubbornly refused to see Madame Pomfrey.
Chris wanted to follow her into the loo for sympathy's sake but she had handed him his head when he had done that earlier in the day. After their shaky start on the train, Chris and Hermione had developed a solid friendship between them. Chris discovered that despite her claims to the contrary, Hermione had many sterling qualities and he waspleased to have her as his friend. She, nevertheless, did have one wicked temper and a very sharp tongue when that temper was lost. Discretion being the better part of valor even for a Gryffindor, he reluctantly continued on to the great hall and the Halloween feast that awaited there.
Chris was amazed at the decorations in the hall. Just inside the main doors, a quartet of animated wooden skeletons played lively dance tunes on a fiddle, bodhran, guitar, and tambourine. Truly humongous jack o'lanterns, any one of which Cinderella could readily use for her carriage, sat in each corner. Hundreds of bats swooped overhead. The ever-present ghosts added the perfect final addition.
The feast, however, had scarcely began when a wild-eyed panic stricken Professor Quirrell came running into the great hall with his turban askew. He skidded to a halt before Professor Dumbledore at the staff table.
"There's a troll in the dungeon," he stammered in breathless voice and promptly fainted. A troll in the dungeon meant nothing to Chris but the instant pandemonium that erupted in the hall told him that it was on a scale somewhat greater then a mouse in the cupboard.
Wide spread panic was averted, however, when Professor Dumbledore stood and set off several detonations with his wand. Everyone froze and every eye turned to the headmaster.
"Prefects," he said in strong, calm voice as he tossed a glass of pumpkin juice into the supine Professor Quirrell's face. "You shall, in an orderly fashion, take each of your houses back to your dormitories. Teachers, follow me to the dungeon."
"Gryffindors, to me," Percy Weasley, one of the Gryffindor prefects, called out assuredly. "There is nothing to fear. Stay together and follow me."
Percy Weasley was a pompous popinjay in Chris' opinion but he had to admit thatthe prefectwas handling the emergency very well. His self-assurance was a balm to the nerves of several of his charges that were seconds ago ready to run screaming into the night. In short order, Percy had the Gryffindor house students together and moving out of the great hall in a reasonably orderlyfashion.
One thing that Percy could not control was the foot traffic. As it happened, to get to their respective dormitories, the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had to cross paths. The unity of ranks was quickly lost as both groups tried to move through each other without knocking each other down.
"Oh, Damn," Chris said as he abruptly stopped.
"What is it?" Henry asked as he found himself face to face with his cousin.
"It's Hermione," he replied. She got sick and went to the girl's loo around the corner from the great hall. She doesn't know about the troll."
Henry spun him around. "Just follow us," he said. "We can cut down the next hallway and head back to her."
With a quick glance at his prefect, Chris joined in with the Hufflepuff mob.
The two boys darted down the corridor as soon as they came abreast of it. They rounded a corner when Chris grabbed Henry by the robe.
"Someone's coming," he hissed.
They jumped into the nearest room. Through a barely creaked open door, they spied Professor Snape running in the opposite direction.
"I thought the teachers were going to the dungeon," Chris said.
"I guess Dumbledore sent him to check some place else out," Henry said. "C'mon, the coast is clear."
Exercising more caution, the two boys continued down the hallway. They were nearing their destination when anincredibly foul odor assailed their noses.
"What is that smell," Chris groaned waving a hand in front of his nose. Before Henry could venture a guess a frightened scream rang out.
"Hermione," both boys shouted.
Without thinking and without hesitation, both boys ran to the aid of their friend. Water was shooting out of broken pipes when they burst through the door. They saw Hermione cowering in a corner. In the midst of the room was the troll. It stood over twelve feet high. A tiny head incongruently perched on colossal shoulders that swallowed any neck that the creature may have had. Sickly yellow skin peeked through long stands of thick mud matted hair that cover the creature from shoulders to the tops of its feet. In its hand was an enormous club.
The troll was methodically advancing on a cornered Hermione, swinging its huge club as it moved forward. Twisted lengths of metal and chunks of busted porcelain littered the lavatory floor where the troll had destroyed stalls and sinks in his effort to get Hermione.
"We're boned," Henry said faintly as he grabbed a piece of what had once been a commode.
"Spread out," Chris ordered as he picked up a heavy piece of pipe.
"Get ready to run, Hermione," He yelled as he flung the pipe at the troll's head.
It caught the troll solidly and it turned around on;y to have the commode chunk that Henry threw hit it in the chest. Hermione immediately rolled to the other corner. Her exit was still blocked but she was further from the troll. Henry and Chris began to rain a barrage of debris on the troll and continued to yell in hopes of distracting it. The troll wavered between attacking both boys but the reverberations of the shouts and the hailstorm of broken ceramics did not allow the slow thinking creature time to make a decision. Finally, in frustration, it swung his club and smashing the last remaining stall. The destroyed remains flew toward the two boys causing both to dive to the floor.
The troll's sharp ears heard Hermione moving behind it. With a roar,it turned on its heel and advanced on her. Hermione threw a piece of tile into the troll's face as Chris leaped to his feet and hurled himself on to the troll's back. He wrapped his arms tightly around its neck. The troll, bellowing in anger, tried to get Chris off by shaking its shoulders.
"Do something, Henry!" Chris shouted, his legs flying back and forth like a pendulum. "Before it remembers that it has a club."
Near Henry's hand was a long section of metal that had a sharp and jagged end. Henry snatched it up and charged the troll like a lancer. The metal tore deep into the troll's leg, cruelly ripping calf muscle, tendons and ligaments. Chris launched himself from the troll's back as it fell to its knees shrieking in agony.
Howling and rolling in pain, the troll lashed out blindly. A massive forearm sailed only inches over Hermione's head as she tried to get by. Hermione frantically dove away from the troll and collided with the wall. Henry was less fortunate. The troll swung its club swiftly catching Henry squarely in the ribs. He went flying backwards.
Hermione frenetically looked about her through the debris and the water as the troll struggled to rise. Spying the young girl, it raised its club and came toward her, dragging its useless leg along.
"I can't find my wand, Chris," Hermione yelled. "Use yours! Use magic on it!"
Chris pushed himself off the floor, pulled his wand from his robes, and pointed it at the troll. He shouted the first spell that came to his mind, the spell that they had practiced in Charms that morning.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
The troll's club wrenched itself from the grip of the troll and rose several feet above it. The troll stopped and stared at its empty hand. It finally saw the club floating several feet above its head. He stared up at it in confusion.
"Drop it! Drop it! Drop it" Hermione madly shouted when she noticed the position of the club.
Chris released the club from the spell and gravity took over. The club rapidly descended, catching the troll solidly between the eyes. The troll crashed to the floor splashing water about the room.
A haze of dust hung in the air as a dripping wet Hermione shakily got to her feet. Her hair hung in lank strands and she was bleeding from a cut on her chin. Chris, his own hands badly cut and scraped, stepped over a toilet seat and pieces of porcelain and steel to get to her side.
"Is it dead," Hermione finally asked in a weak voice.
"I think that it's just knocked out," Chris replied, his own voice unsteady. "Are you all right?"
"Yes," she answered. "Yourself?"
"Okay," he said. "How about you, Henry? Henry?"
Hermione screamed as Chris looked back. Gore clung to the rough, sharp edges of a shattered wall sink. Below it, Henry lay in a heap on the floor, his unmoving body lying in an ever-widening pool of blood.