"I'm afraid the troll will have to return to the confines of the safe place where Professor Quirrel was keeping it." Minerva McGonagall said sternly. "I would like to remind you that wild creatures are not toys, and you are not to go about deliberately inciting them to create mayhem."

"Yes, ma'am." They all said together. Well, Ron and Harry managed contrite, Hermione looked like she was about to burst into tears, and Harry quite frankly thought that Draco Malfoy trying (and failing) to look apologetic was the most hilarious thing he'd ever seen or thought of.

"Now all of you are going to the hospital wing. Immediately." Minerva McGonagall said sternly.

"But..." Harry said, uncomfortable at even the idea of being inside there. He hated nurses, hated people who knew more about him than he'd authorized telling them.

"Go, Mr. Potter, or do you need an escort?" Professor McGonagall said, and Ron hurriedly tugged Harry off. Harry didn't pay this much mind, not even to do his general cursing of the redhead's inability to respect personal space (which was a perennial problem). He was too absorbed in reacting.

And, strangely enough, it wasn't a reaction to what he'd thought. No, he wasn't upset at going to the infirmary. He figured it would be easy enough to strip and show that he wasn't hurt and felt well. Besides, he knew the basic diagnostics just looked at current state - and he had been gaining weight. He had. It wasn't his fault that Petunia's diet food was awful. (And Harry's breakfasts were barely better than mediocre).

No, this was a reaction to What had he been thinking? - going after a fullgrown troll, something Quirrel, their defense teacher, seemed scared of! Suddenly, all the possible deaths that he could have endured leapt into his head, like a decision tree stretching off into infinity.

It was bedazzling. It was extremely scary.

Harry Potter wanted to have a panic attack, to sit and shake until the knowledge that he'd nearly killed something would sink in.

Unfortunately, he was beside Draco Malfoy, who, even if he didn't look so hot himself, would take that knowledge and use it for all it was worth.

Put plain, he still wasn't out of the woods, and he'd better act like it, if he wanted to get out of the infirmary with just a basic.

[a/n: yes, that last line is odd grammatically speaking. Deal. Harry's eleven.

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