Hermione and I froze as we inspected the troll ahead of us. It was blinking, which meant it was likely alive, and the horrid smell it was emanating hinted that it wasn't an illusion, either. The only piece of luck we had was that the troll was just as surprised to see us as we were surprised to see it.

Noting that it was blocking the exit of the bathroom, I glanced towards Hermione from the corner of my eye and murmured, "Get back in the stall."

"Got it," she squeaked, and she began to tiptoe back to where I'd found her—

For better or worse, the troll didn't seem very interested in her. It had locked eyes with me and was scratching its head; my own head was pounding. If I were to move, would it reach out and try to grab me? Did I have the same option as Hermione to try and hide until help arrived?

I didn't know if I wanted to risk that. Maybe… just maybe… there was a spell I knew that could help me get out of this situation.

Swallowing hard, I withdrew my own wand—but that was when my eyes landed on what the troll held in its own hand. It was a humongous stick with pointed barbs laced in the wood: a club.

Before I could decide whether to attack, run, or hide, footsteps clopped across the tiles of the bathroom floor, and a familiar voice shouted, "Belle, Hermione!"

In barged Harry and Ron, their wands already unsheathed and pointed at the monstrous creature ahead of us. I seized this distraction to run to opposite sides of the bathroom, doing my best to force it to choose a target: them, or me.

The troll roared and turned back towards me.

"Bloody hell," I gasped, my hands shaking. There was no spell in my arsenal that would do much damage against an adult troll—Rictusempra was a minor jinx…

With greater speed than I would've expected, the troll swung its club in my direction. I shrieked and dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding being crushed.

"Confuse it!" Harry's voice cracked in desperation—he grabbed a broken sink tap and threw it at the troll's head.

Ronald quickly followed suit, yelling, "Oi, pea-brain!" and throwing a metal pipe at it. The troll hesitated long enough to stop focusing on me, during which time I sprinted towards the stall where Hermione was still hidden and yanked the door open.

She was still there, unharmed, although she looked as terrified as I felt. I lunged out and seized her arm, my fingernails digging into her skin, and shouted, "Come on, now's our chance!"

The troll was still looking towards Ron, and it had moved just enough to provide an opening that promised escape. Still holding onto Hermione's arm, I sprinted forward—but the troll's club had broken sinks and toilets alike, and now the floor was slick with water—

I yelped and skid across the floor, hitting the troll's ankle. Hermione froze in place, staring between me and the exit.

"Go!" I shouted.

The troll blinked and looked down to where I was laying, struggling to get back to my feet. It reached out a meaty hand to me—Harry leapt forth and managed to grab the troll around the neck, effectively confusing it.

Unfortunately, grabbing onto it did not seem like a good idea. The troll shook its head wildly, trying to buck Harry off. Both Ron and Hermione stared at him in horrification as he did his best to remain seated.

Harry could get thrown into one of the broken sinks or one of the walls because of me, because I'd slipped. My mind whirled; Professor Flitwick had said something about the tickling jinx, that if used enough times, it could affect an opponent of greater strength…

It was better than nothing. Pointing my wand at one of the troll's kneecaps, I shouted, "Rictusempra!"

The troll buckled to its knees on the bathroom floor; in the chaos, Harry shoved his wand up its nose.

An earth-shattering roar filled the walls of the bathroom, forcing all of us to cover our ears to avoid being deafened. Before Harry could regather his bearings, the troll seized him from where he sat upon its neck and lifted its club, obviously preparing to hit him with it.

"Do something!" Harry shouted.

Panicked, I scoured the room for anything I might find useful, anything at all. My eyes landed on a sharp piece of broken porcelain—I seized it from the ground and, with a mighty yell, drove the point of the shard deep into the back of the troll's thigh.

The roar that followed was even louder than the last; all four of us threw our hands to our ears in order to block the sound a second time. But there was a slight ray of hope—if anyone was nearby, they absolutely would have heard it.

As the troll reared back for a blow to Harry's head, Ron pointed his wand at it and yelled, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The club escaped the troll's hold and floated easily in midair. The troll, startled to find its weapon no longer residing in its hand, searched wildly; when it finally looked up, Ron dropped his wand, therefore breaking the spell.

CLUNK.

The wooden club hit the troll directly on the head, causing the dull thunk to echo around the room. Harry was unceremoniously dropped, and he hit the ground with an, "Oof!"

Ron and I scrambled to back away from it to avoid being squashed by two tons of mountain troll—we barely escaped its breadth and, once it was fallen, stared at each other with wide eyes.

With the fight over, I scanned the bathroom. A few of the sinks were in shatters, the porcelain strewn all about the floor. Some of the tiles from the floor had popped up, leaving craters. The mirrors were mainly intact, but one or two had been broken, sending shards of glass everywhere. Some of the stalls had been destroyed.

The first of us to speak was Hermione, who asked, "Is it… dead?"

"I don't think so," Harry said, approaching it. "Just knocked out."

His eyes fell on his wand, which was still stuck inside the troll's oversized nose. With an expression of utmost disgust, he pulled it out—it was covered in slimy grey ooze. "Eughh… troll bogies," he groaned as he began wiping his wand on the troll's flimsy shirt.

A loud SLAM and hurried footsteps broke the quiet that had settled between us. A mere second later, Professor McGonagall appeared, Professors Snape and Quirrell trailing her steps. Quirrell took one look at the troll and nearly fainted, clutching at his heart.

Professor Snape inspected the troll as Professor McGonagall stared at me, Harry, and Ron. Our slight smiles faded as she whispered, her nostrils flared, "What on earth were you thinking of? You're lucky you weren't killed! Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Before we could answer, Hermione stepped out from behind the shadows. "Please, Professor McGonagall, they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!"

"I went looking for the troll because I… I thought I could deal with it on my own—you know, because I've read all about them."

Both Ron's and Harry's mouths dropped open, and I was certain that my eyes were nearly bugging out of my head. Hermione was lying to a teacher for our sakes, despite what had occurred earlier that very afternoon.

"If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck its wand up its nose, Belle stabbed it with a broken piece of glass, and Ron knocked it out with its own club. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

The three of us exchanged quick looks and came to a silent conclusion: we needed to do our damn best to make it look like this story wasn't complete and utter rubbish.

As it was, Professor McGonagall didn't challenge it. With a shaky inhale, she exclaimed, "Well, in that case… Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a fully grown mountain troll all on your own?"

Hermione dropped her gaze to the floor.

"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this. I'm very disappointed in you. But you are not hurt at all, are you?"

Either unable or unwilling to speak, Hermione shook her head.

Professor McGonagall next turned to the three of us. "Well, I still say that you lot were lucky. Not many first years could have taken on a full grown mountain troll and lived to tell the tale. You each win Gryffindor five points, and Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may…"

She trailed off, her eyes locked upon me. "Miss Skylar, what happened to your hands?"

I glanced at them and jolted. My palms were bleeding, most likely having been cut when I stabbed the piece of porcelain into the troll's muscle. I hadn't noticed the injury until Professor McGonagall pointed it out, but now that it was brought to my attention, it began to sting.

Knowing that my Head of House expected an answer, I pointed towards the shard embedded in the back of the troll's leg. All three professors stared at the shard as I said, "I stabbed it with that. It probably cut me, too."

A brief silence. Then—

"Come with me, Miss Skylar. We'll get you patched up in the hospital wing. The rest of you, return to Gryffindor tower. Students are resuming the feast there."

Something turned in the pit of my stomach at the words 'hospital wing.' That was the last place that I wanted to go; I hadn't been in any sort of doctor's office or hospital ever since I was seven years old…

"Please, Professor, I'd like to accompany Belle to the hospital wing," said Harry, placing a hand on my shoulder. It seemed that he had noticed my distress, and was trying to make me feel more comfortable.

Professor McGonagall, however, had not noticed it. She narrowed her eyes. "Nonsense. You've pushed your luck as it is, Potter. Return to your common room."

Harry opened his mouth as if to protest, to mention how pale my face had become in a matter of a few seconds—but I grabbed his hand, squeezed it once, and forced a small smile across my lips as I murmured, "It's all right. I'll be fine."

He paused for a moment, inspecting me. Realizing that he had little to no choice on whether to obey or not, however, he merely nodded curtly and let me go.

I followed Professor McGonagall out of the girl's bathroom, trying to ignore the churning in my stomach. The water that had spilled onto the floor in the lavatory was now trailing into the hallway, which was conspicuously empty. It was likely the rest of the school had been barricaded somewhere for safety, once news got out that a troll was in the castle…

After we turned a few corners, Professor McGonagall finally asked, "What was the real reason you were all in the girl's bathroom?"

I was not surprised in the slightest that she didn't believe Hermione's story. It had looked like Snape wasn't swallowing the explanation either, and that was without mentioning how Harry's, Ron's, and my bug-eyed looks didn't help matters.

"Hermione was upset by something we said earlier, Professor. She hid from everyone in the bathroom. When I figured out where she was, I went to go apologize and bring her to the Great Hall—but before we could return to the feast, the troll found us. It was blocking the exit. We had no choice but to fight it."

Professor McGonagall looked at me sternly for a moment. "I see." She waved her hand, issuing me onward, and of course I obeyed. "How have you been adjusting to Hogwarts since last we spoke, Miss Skylar?"

The change of topic was a surprising one, but I didn't mind. It was nice, to have my Head of House inquiring after my welfare… it was a welcome distraction from where I was heading, too.

And so I thought about all my classes, my friends, and the progress we'd all made in memorizing the school passageways. With a toothy grin, I replied, "It's been great so far, Professor. I've enjoyed almost everything here."

"Are you and Mr. Malfoy getting along in Transfiguration? When crafting those seating charts, there was one Slytherin and one Gryffindor remaining. And out of all my students, I thought… perhaps you'd be the most capable of tolerating a difficult situation."

This last was said with a knowing glint in her eye, and it almost made me laugh. I was admittedly proud to be the person that Professor McGonagall had held the most faith in, and it was with this newfound confidence that I said, "Actually, we're getting along great. Don't get me wrong, sometimes he can be a great jerk, but working as Transfiguration partners has been entertaining. We keep competing to see who can master our lessons first. I almost always win."

If Malfoy was going to accuse me of sucking up like he had in the beginning of the year, then I was going to do exactly that.

As it was, Professor McGonagall chuckled and let it go from there.

We reached the hospital wing, where it appeared Madam Pomfrey was waiting for us, already fluffing up some of the pillows upon the hospital beds. "Well come in, come in! When I heard there was a troll loose in the school I figured there'd be at least one student who'd need patching up."

I glanced toward my Head of House, who smiled and gestured towards the head nurse. My nervousness had returned by now, however, and it was hard to conceal how uneasy I felt; my legs were both heavy and wobbly. Sweat began beading upon the back of my neck. But still, I walked over towards Madam Pomfrey, who took a glance at my hands and asked, "Now how did that happen?"

"I stabbed the troll with a sharp piece of a broken sink," I said, my mouth dry.

Madam Pomfrey stared at me for a moment before sighing and retrieving her wand. "At least this is easily fixable. Put your hands out for me, would you?"

She grabbed them—I flinched.

The gesture was not unnoticed by either Madam Pomfrey or Professor McGonagall. It was the head of the hospital wing who seemed to understand how afraid I was first. She released my hands with a small smile and said, "My apologies. Please, take your time."

"Thanks," I whispered. Color flooded my face due to my embarrassment… the last thing I wanted was for two of Hogwarts' staff to think I was a crybaby or a scaredy-cat.

But I couldn't help it.

I took a few moments to collect myself, stretching my fingers and taking deep breaths. The last four years of my life, doctors had visited our house. Robbie took extra care to keep me away from hospitals; I'd practically lived in St. Mungo's for a long while when I'd been seven, waiting at my mother's bedside for her to get better.

She never did.

I couldn't stay standing in front of Madam Pomfrey forever. Even though I wasn't entirely sure I was ready, I took one last deep breath and held out my hands—apparently noticing my lingering distress, she gently grabbed them and went to work.

Slowly, steadily, she waved her wand over my hands; even as I watched, the cuts upon my palms slowly began to knit together, the bloodstains upon them washing and ebbing away. The concentration and confidence on Madam Pomfrey's face was fascinating to watch—there was a kindness in her eyes while she was working that brought me a modicum of peace.

The task was completed faster than I'd expected. All that was left on my hands were two thin white scars where I had been cut, and then Madam Pomfrey began shooing me away. "Go on, Miss Skylar, you have a feast to get to!"

Knowing that she was absolutely right, I leapt out of the hospital bed and began jogging back toward Professor McGonagall. The exit of the hospital wing was just ahead; I ready to be gone from that place… but before I could be out of sight, I turned back around. "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."

A bit of a stunned look took over her face, but seeing me waving, attempting to smile, her surprise morphed into gratitude. "You're quite welcome," said Madam Pomfrey; and then she turned around to return to her duties.

The walk back to Gryffindor tower was quiet. As much as I liked talking to Professor McGonagall, my mind was on a different topic: how Hermione, Harry, Ron, and I would get along after all this. With luck, Hermione's relationship with us would improve, and things would otherwise return to normal.

All of Hogwarts' portraits were craning close to get a good look. A few of them whispering and hissing about the first years who had bested a troll, and how such a feat hadn't been done for a long number of years… but one well-trained glare from Professor McGonagall was enough to shush them again.

"Here we are, Miss Skylar," said Professor McGonagall, standing in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady. There was a twinkle in her eye. "Enjoy the rest of your evening with your friends. Happy Halloween."

"Happy Halloween," I responded with a smile. I was rewarded with another small smile before turning to the Fat Lady, stating the password, and entering the common room—

Where I was instantly greeted with cheers and applause. My fellow Gryffindors swarmed me, asking what possessed me to stab a mountain troll, if I had any marks or scars on my hands, if it was true I was almost squashed.

"Let her breathe, guys, come on!"

I sighed in relief as Harry budged through the larger Gryffindors in order to get to me. When he was by my side, he grabbed my hand and shouted over all the ruckus, "Come on, Belle, Hermione and Ron and I saved you some butterbeer and Chocolate Wands! I know those are your favorite."

My face lit up at the mention of butterbeer. Without bothering to entertain the questions being shot my way, we barged our way to the little table where Ron and Hermione were beckoning us over.

Once I arrived, I lunged for the two bottles of butterbeer and uncapped them. Seeing Harry begin to laugh, I hoarded the beverages to my chest and defended myself with, "What? They weren't claimed, so they're mine now."

Harry punched my shoulder lightly and shook his head as I downed half of the first bottle.

The others of my house lost interest in she-who-had-stabbed-a-troll before too much longer, which meant I was free to talk to my friends without having to yell. I was about to offer a toast to the holidays, but that was when I saw it: something in their eyes that told me their minds were elsewhere.

"What is it?" I asked. "What's wrong."

"There's something we noticed in the girl's bathroom, when you were being led to the hospital wing," Harry said, his voice even softer than my own. I had to strain to hear him properly. "Snape's leg was bleeding, it looked like he had been bitten. We suspect that he tried to get past that three-headed dog before finding us tonight."

I blinked once or twice, remembering my encounters with Professor Snape. He was certainly intimidating, but I didn't think he necessarily held a death-wish. "How do you know?"

"How else would he have gotten that injury?" asked Hermione, raising an eyebrow. "Besides, we already think that the dog is guarding something important, and this strengthens that theory. Harry seems to think it's… whatever-it-was that was in the Gringotts vault that got broken into."

I sighed and finished off the first of my butterbeers before pointing to Harry with the other. "Then we need to find out what it is he wants. But… let's do that tomorrow. Tonight is Halloween! And I'd rather focus on these butterbeers than whatever Professor Snape is up to."

This made Ron laugh—he waved Hermione over to the couch he was sitting on and said, "Come on, Hermione, I'll teach you how to play Gobstones. I already taught Harry last weekend."

The upside to having the Halloween party in the Gryffindor common room was that none of the professors could tell us to go to bed. Common rooms were open at all hours of the day and night for the students in that particular House. My time was spent equally between hanging out with my three friends and listening into Fred and George Weasley's pranks; apparently they were scheming up some new ones.

Poor Hermione turned out to be awful at Gobstones, which prompted Ron to try teaching her wizard's chess instead. As intelligent as she was when it came to book-smarts and lesson plans, strategy did not seem to be her forte. Neither was it Harry's or mine either, because Ron won every game that was played throughout the night.

After three butterbeers and enough honey cakes to fill us for weeks, Harry stretched and declared he was about to go to bed—but I seized his arm and exclaimed, "Wait, Harry," before he could leave.

He stopped and glanced back to me. "What's up?"

Heat rose into my face as I thought about how to word what I wanted to say, which made me grateful for the dim lights of the fire and the lanterns in the common room. "I just wanted to say… thanks. To both you and Ron. You weren't there when the troll first showed up, but… it was looking directly at me. If you hadn't come when you did, I think I'd be dead. So—thank you."

Harry smiled sideways, though his green eyes were warm. "Course. We're friends, aren't we? You would've gone after me."

This much was certainly true, and it prompted a relieved smile to spread across my face. The heat in my face faded away as I added, "You know, I never thought I'd be friends with Harry Potter, of all people. It's… really cool."

"Well, I—I'm just Harry," he said, scratching the back of his neck.

"Yeah. And that's great," I replied. "You're a good friend."

That made him smile again. He clapped a hand on my shoulder for the briefest of moments before saying, "See you tomorrow," and heading up to his dormitory.