Nothing in the world of Harry Potter belongs to me. I'm just playing in the great J.K. Rowling's sand box. Thank you.
Chapter 4 – Tackling the Troll
October 31, 1991
Minerva sat at the desk in her office, marking papers furiously. So much red ink was being allotted to each paper lately, the students probably thought that Snape has taken over their grading. However, the furious scribbling and harsh criticism of her students did nothing to help her frustration.
Some of the Gryffindor first years had come to her, yet again, in concern over Hermione Granger crying herself to sleep nightly. It had been six weeks, since Minerva broke the news to the young girl. She had informed Miss Granger that there had been a fire at her family home and her parents had not made it. Hermione had broken down in tears in Minerva's office, and the older witch had done her best to console her, not unlike the first time she had found out she'd lost her family, all those years ago.
Dumbledore had secured a vault in Miss Granger's name, supplying her with some funds, for her to be able to buy some things for herself. Severus had also insisted on contributing to the vault, adding enough galleons that she wouldn't want for anything during her time at Hogwarts. For the sake of maintaining the secret, McGonagall explained it away as Dumbledore settling Hermione's family estate for her.
Now though, Minerva wasn't sure what she could do to help her girl. Back in 1971, Minerva had invited her new 'daughter' to tea several times a week, giving them time to get to know each other. It had helped the transition, easing the girl's grief. Even over the years the two had maintained a weekly tea time during the school terms to keep in touch. However, this time around, she wasn't going to be the girl's adoptive mother.
It was still a point of contention between her and Dumbledore, so much so, that she had stopped talking to him except for school business. The friendship that had spanned decades had been shattered, and Minerva had no interest in fixing it. Who was he to take away her girl for the sake of moving his pawns on the chessboard?
December 1973
"Mom!" came the call from down the hall.
Minerva smiled, still amazed at the young woman that had entered her life just a few short years prior. Hermione had just the last summer taken to calling her mom. It had been rather suddenly, and the poor girl had looked mortified the first time she had done it, but Minerva had simply treated it like normal and continued the conversation, even though she was ecstatic. Within the week, it was always mom and no longer Minerva.
"Yes dear?" Minerva called out to her, far more tamely. "You don't need to shout you know. I can hear you just fine."
The brown-haired young witch slid around the corner and to a sudden stop in front of Minerva's chair. Hermione had grown a lot in just over two years. Not just physically, though she was taller. She had grown more into her magic, impressive as it had been when she had first started at Hogwarts, it was a force to be reckoned with.
Anything she put her mind too, she accomplished, no matter the subject matter. At the end of her second year due to the constant teasing, she had learned a spell, that was designed to tame her bushy brown hair in a matter of moments, not bothered by the fact that it was a spell fifth years struggled with. Sure, she had struggled to learn the spell and she had come to Minerva for help more than once with tragic hair mishaps, but she had kept at it, mastering the spell in just a few short months. Now, without much work or magical energy at all, her hair fell in neat waves around her face.
That powerful, confident young witch stood in front of her now, excited grin on her face, just bursting at the seems to share whatever it was that she had found or done now. Minerva couldn't help, but smile and be proud of her daughter.
"Mom," Hermione blurted, "You'll never believe what I did? It was awesome! I've been working so hard for a while now … but then you know that … but I was starting to think it would never happen and it did!"
"What happened dear?" Minerva asked, trying to keep up with the energy and enthusiasm of her 14-year-old adoptive daughter.
"I transformed into my animagus form finally! I have to show you," Hermione exclaimed, tugging at her mother's arms to pull her from her chair.
"Well, hang on a minute. I will not be going anywhere in my dressing gown," Minerva informed her sternly before turning and heading toward her bedroom.
Even though it was Christmas holidays and the school was almost empty, Minerva wouldn't break decorum, not even for the pleading, almost exploding with excitement, girl on the other side of her bedroom door. Dressing quickly, since the old witch was almost as excited as the girl, she emerged again, promptly being dragged by the hand through the castle.
They had started working on animagus training during the summer holidays, after much persistence and pestering from the younger witch. Minerva had argued many times over meals, that Hermione was much too young, but eventually, she had been worn down and training had started. The young witch, that excelled at everything, often teaching herself things, struggled with the exercises and tasks required of animagus training. Sessions were ended with heaps of frustration on both sides. Hermione had become desperate enough to try her training without Minerva's assistance and had ended up in St. Mungo's for three days. After that, McGonagall had insisted on a wand oath, that Hermione wouldn't train alone without her express permission.
By the end of summer, Hermione had progressed enough that she was given permission to train on her own, as Minerva was at the point where she couldn't teach her anymore. It was simply time for her to practice the exercises, try the techniques, and learn more about herself in the process. Though Hermione was frustrated with the lack of immediate results, Minerva was impressed.
Now, months later, it was obviously worth all the time, effort, and frustration as the girl dragged the older witch through the entry hall and out until the snowy December night. Having never observed or see any indication of what the girl's animagus form might be, Minerva assume it was quite large, since changing in the warmth of their quarters hadn't been an option.
Leaving her mother on the steps to the castle, Hermione leapt out into the snow, enjoying the fluffy white flakes and the brisk cold. For a moment, she just enjoyed the weather, before suddenly changing form, her black shape taking off into the night sky. On the ground, Minerva stood, staring in awe and wonder as her child changed shape before her eyes, preforming magic well beyond her age.
The trail of thought sparked an idea and Minerva pushed away from her desk, rushing over to the fireplace. Kneeling slowly in front of the fire, she tossed a handful of powder into the flames, calling out "The Burrow". The floo call connected instantly.
"Molly, are you there?" Minerva asked, peering through the floo into an empty Weasley kitchen.
The Weasley matriarch bustled into the room, having heard her name being called.
"Oh, Minerva, sorry, I was just in the living room working on some knitting," Molly explained. "What can I do for you?"
"I was wondering if you might be willing to come through later today for tea? Hermione is having a terrible time managing the news. I was thinking that it might be helpful for her too meet you and get to know you a bit," Minerva tells her.
"That is a great idea! I can come through after lunch."
"Splendid," Minerva agreed. "I'll let her know and we will see you then. Thank you very much Molly!"
The floo call ends and McGonagall sits back on her heels with a sigh. She is jealous of the time Molly will get to spend with her daughter. Time she should have with Hermione. Well, with the older version of Hermione, but either way it should be her time. The old witch acknowledges that she isn't getting any younger, and even with the circumstances, she is still losing time with the girl that changed her life.
Sure, as her head of house and professor, McGonagall gets to see her, but it is far from the same relationship. The very best she can do now, is make sure that Hermione is taken care of, even if that means she needs Molly instead.
Casting a quick spell to check the time, McGonagall groans as she rises to her feet. Classes were about to let out and if she is quick, she can check on Severus before class with her fourth years.
"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked, noticing her absence, as they sit down in the great hall for the Halloween feast.
"Dunno," Ron mumbled around a mouthful of chicken, his plate already piled high with food.
"She's been in the bathroom crying since her meeting with McGonagall. No one has been able to convince her to come out," Lavender Brown said, sitting across the table from the boys.
"That meeting was with my mum though," Ron says. "Shouldn't she be happy she has a home again?"
Everyone in the area grimaces at the tasteless comment, while Ron remains as clueless as ever. Fred and George are sitting close enough to the first years to supply their input.
"Unlike you, little brother, out Hermione is human," Fred says.
"Yeah, with normal human emotions," George added.
Both Ron and Harry look a little clueless, trying to understand what they are saying.
"Just because she's bonding with mum doesn't mean the loss of her family doesn't hurt," George explained, rolling his eyes at their cluelessness.
"If anything, it'll just make it hurt more for a while," Fred finishes.
"Why?" Harry asked.
"Because it is a huge reminder that her parents are gone," Lavender announced.
"How do you two know this?" Ron asked the twins suspiciously.
"Rule seven of dating: learn how to manage sad and upset women," Fred started.
"And life will be infinitely easier," George ends.
The boys shrug and dig into their meals again. One of the twins throws a roll, that bounces off of Ron's head, earning him a rude gesture in response.
"Not going to go help you friend?" George asks.
"What can we do?" Harry asked, seriously at a loss for how to help.
"Yeah," Ron agreed. "It's not like we're going to go in the girl's bathroom! And Lavender already said she wouldn't come out."
The conversation was interrupted by Professor Quirrell came bursting through the great hall doors. He stumbled down the main aisle shouting at the top of his lungs.
"Troll — in the dungeons — thought you ought to know."
"Prefects," Dumbledore rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately."
All of the students seem to rise from their tables as one. The Prefects of each house tried their best to maintain a semblance or order, but the best they managed was a mildly contained rabble. Students exploded from the great hall, darting in all directions.
"What about Hermione?" Harry asks as they step into the entry hall.
"What about her?"
"She doesn't know about the troll," Harry answered. "We need to go get her."
Together, the two boys break away from the Gryffindor mob and rush off to the girl's bathroom.
Tea with Molly Weasley had been nice. The older witch obviously had tons of experience mothering, with seven kids. She had told Hermione a little bit about the what the Burrow was like, talked about all of her children, and her husband. Truly, Molly had painted a spectacular picture, but it wasn't Hermione's home.
It wasn't the two-story brick home in a small London suburb. The mantel lined with pictures of their various vacations. It wasn't discussions of upcoming dental procedures over dinner. It wasn't reading with her father in the study or baking with her mother in the kitchen.
Hermione had maintained her composure and polite demeanor until the meeting was done. She waited until she was definitely out of sight before sprinting through the halls, making her way to one of the least used girl's bathrooms in Hogwarts, aside from the second floor at least.
The first-floor bathroom near the dungeon was rarely used, as more often than not, students avoided the dungeon area like the plague, and there were bathrooms closer to the great hall anyways. Still, some of the other Gryffindor first years had tracked her down, standing outside of the stall and trying to coerce her into coming out. Despite several attempts, Hermione refused to even respond to them. They finally had to give up and return to classes, leaving Hermione to grieve in peace.
Finally, Hermione emerged from the bathroom stall, approaching the sinks. She sighed as she looks in the mirror, her eyes puffy and red, moisture still lining her lower lids, her nose red and irritated. Turning on the tap, she leaned forward and splashed some water on her face. Just as she turns off the water, she hears a shuffling near the entrance to the bathroom and she prepares for what she expects to be a group of well-meaning Gryffindor's to drag her to the tail end of the Halloween feast.
As she turns toward the entrance of the bathroom, Hermione's eyes widen, as a huge, grey skinned creature stepped into view. The massive troll drags a huge club, which makes the shuffling sound she had originally heard. In shock, she stands completely still, staring at the monster.
It isn't until he takes in her presence, growling in response, that she moves, dashing back into the toilet stall, throwing the lock, and wrapping herself around the base of the toilet. Mentally, her brain is running in overdrive, freaking out over the situation and her choice, but knowing she didn't have any better options with the troll blocking the doorway. In response to her stress, magic and memories leak slowly from the crack in the magical door in her mind, locking them away. Her bushy hair starts to crackle with sparks, her magic building around her.
The magic builds, creating a soothing presence, slowing her thoughts and clearing her mind. From somewhere deep in her mind, a strong feeling emerges: push. Her entire being entreats her to push the troll away, to push the danger away. Push, her mind and her magic shouts at her. In her head, embossed in fiery red letters, the word flipendo appears. Her mind latches onto the word, targeting the building magic and shouting the word. Suddenly, she feels a great loss, the power draining from her, leaving her feeling empty and weak as it recedes behind the door once more.
However, the troll, had already reared back its club, preparing wipe out the entire row of stalls, sweeping the floor. Before it completes the swing, a magical force pushes the troll to make it stumble backwards, causing the club to just crush the top of the stalls, raining shards of wood down upon the witch.
Hermione screamed in fear, crawling along the floor, trying to find more shelter. She knows that with the sudden fatigue, she wouldn't be able to outrun the troll. Thankfully, Harry and Ron appear in the doorway suddenly, though, she notes, without any additional help.
"Hermione!" they shout together.
The troll is briefly distracted, missing its swing once again, crushing the sinks, dangerously close to the cowering Hermione.
Turning back to its initial target, the troll raises its club again. Recklessly, Harry runs forward, grabbing the head of the club. The momentum of the club lifts the boy into the air. Finding himself on the troll's shoulders, Harry simply does his best to hang on as it tries to shake him loose.
"Do something!" Harry screams, ducking as the troll reaches for him.
Hermione uses the distraction to flee, hugging the wall as she crawls over to the entryway, joining Ron. Ron raises his wand, casting the first spell that comes to mind.
Magic directed at the troll, hits its target. The effect isn't immediate, but within moments massive wings start to appear from the troll's nose. Soon, the monster is surrounded by many large, winged boogies, attacking its head.
Swearing rather colorfully, Harry fights to hang on while also defending himself from the vicious boogies. The troll throws its head, catching Harry by surprise and knocking him loose. The boy starts to tumble the twelve feet towards the hard-stone floor. Hermione flicks her wand, after having fought to extract it from her torn and tangled robes, at her friend.
"Wingardium Leviosa," Hermione shouts.
At the same time, a silky-smooth voice booms through the bathroom, "Stupify!"
Harry is caught within Hermione's magic, lifting back up onto the air slightly before she gently lowers him to the floor. Behind him, the troll is thrown into the back wall of the bathrooms with the force of the stunner.
Once all feet at back on the floor, the three students whipped around and found themselves face to face with their teachers. Hermione sways on her feet, exhaustion dragging her closer and closer to the darkness. She struggles against the dizziness and her bodies attempts to pass out on the spot.
"What do you three think you are doing?" Professor McGonagall screeched.
Harry and Ron just look at each other helplessly, trying to come up with a good enough excuse. They turn wordlessly, surveying their teachers. McGonagall is staring them down, fire and promises of grueling punishment in her eyes. Severus Snape, who had knocked the troll out, glared down his nose at the trio, watching them closely. Quirrell rounds out the group, looking oddly annoyed.
"It looks like they were holding their own," Quirrell offers timidly, as jumpy and edgy as always.
"Holding their own! Really," Minerva rounds on Quirrell, anger raging unchecked.
"Oh yes, that bat-bogie hex was really effective," Snape sneers, sarcasm dripping from his words.
Before Minerva can turn on him, Hermione succumbs to the darkness. Severus sweeps in and scoops her up in his arms. As he does so, Harry notices Severus limping heavily, his robes parting enough to reveal a large, bloody gash on his leg. The boy's suspicion of his professor is pushed aside by worry for his friend.
"Let's get these three to the hospital wing Severus," McGonagall announces. "Do you think you can manage watching the stunned troll until the Ministry employees arrive, Professor Quirrell?"
The professor jumps and adjusts his turban slightly, willfully ignoring the scorn dripping from her words.
"Of course," Professor Quirrell says. "I'd be a rather poor defense teacher if I couldn't."
The end of his statement is punctuated by a yelp, as he jumps nearly three feet in the air, as the knocked-out troll snorts.
Rolling her eyes, McGonagall turns, ushering the boys ahead of her, while Severus follows, a passed-out Hermione Granger draped across his arms.
Passing quickly through the empty halls, the reach the hospital wing in no time. Severus reluctantly releases the unconscious Miss Granger, lowering her down on one of the beds in the wing. Snape resists the urge to start his own healing spells, hands fisted by his side, letting Poppy do her job.
The mediwitch runs a quick diagnosis on the girl. Poppy frowns at the reading, but acknowledges that Hermione isn't in any danger, the girl simply exhausted. The healer turns towards Harry, quickly mends the few scratches he has, before sending the boys off to their dormitories.
"What is wrong with her?" Minerva asks, now that she is alone with her colleagues.
"It seems to be magical exhaustion," Poppy responds, waving her wand over the girl, "but I've never seen this level of exertion on a student of Hermione's current age."
"Obviously," Severus snaps, "this isn't a typical case. She's a time-traveling 31-year-old witch, in the body and mind of an 11-year-old."
"Easy son," Minerva says, walking up to him and placing a hand on his shoulder.
This close, she can smell the alcohol on him, and she furrows her brow. It is painful to watch his downward spiral, but she isn't sure how to help the wizard. His situation is cruel, so the anger and drinking are not unexpected, but it was still worrying.
"It looks like she only used two spells," Poppy frowns, until the next scan reveals the answers she is looking for. "But one of those was a flipendo with quiet a lot of force."
"But that is a third-year spell," Minerva scowls.
"It would have taken a lot of magic at her current age to even budge a twelve-foot troll," Snape mutters.
"That spell makes up the majority of the cause behind her magical exhaustion. The levitation was just the icing on the cake," Madam Pomfrey says. "Not that she should be able to access that much magic at this age."
"Did something go wrong with her de-aging Severus?" Minerva asks, knowing he had been there.
"No," he answers firmly. "I locked them away myself. The door restricts her magic as well, limited to the amount her physical age and body can withstand."
"Then what happened?" the transfiguration professor asks.
Severus stayed quiet, letting his hand drift to cover the still hand of the young witch. Thought her memories are locked away, her mind is still known to him and he follows the familiar pathways in. Gently, he brushes against her memories of the battle with the troll, only seeing the building and expression of power. Concerned, he looks over the door he built, checking it over, making sure there are no cracks or breeches. Satisfied with his work, he emerges to both witches watching him carefully.
"Still securely locked away," he answers, before sweeping out of the room, no longer able to tolerate the situation.
Minerva sighs.
"She'll be fine Minerva," Poppy assures her, "she just needs some rest. A few days and she will wake and her magical core will be refreshed."
"Yes, she'll will heal and be alright," McGonagall responded, staring, not at Hermione, but at the empty doorway to the hospital wing, "but will he?"
The hospital wing is silent, the mediwitch even in bed at this hour. The young witch was the only student in the wing this night. The subtle shifting of magic slowly builds around the girl, drawing into her and seeping from her, causing a very faint, ghastly light to surround her. The minute crack in Severus' barrier door, so small he had missed it, grows slightly as magic seeps through.
After a short time, the magic dissipates. Hermione Granger stirs slightly, looking groggily around at her surroundings. The pull of sleep is too much and she falls back asleep before questioning where she is. Though incredibly tired still, her magical core is returned to normal.
The next day, much to Poppy Pomfrey's concern, Hermione is feeling well enough to leave the hospital wing. Watching the young witch walk out the door, the mediwitch wonders to herself, what exactly is happening to her young friend.
Thanks for tagging along. Much of what happens in the books will continue to happen, though I won't touch on it all. The most major difference in year one, are the scornful interactions between Ron/Harry and Hermione. Additionally, my Ron is just as clueless (it's what makes him a kinda lovable oaf, though still an oaf), and Harry is a little more studious (come on kid! magical world after 11 years of feeling like a complete freak. Get excited!). Anyways, let me know what you think!