Chapter 15

Professor Flitwick stood on his perch of enlarged textbooks, ready to start Charms Class. Hermione was sandwiched between Ron and Neville, the close quarters making her feel claustrophobic. Hermione and Neville shared a desk in most classes, but Ron plopped down between her and Harry before Neville had a chance, forcing him to sit next to her but partner up with someone else. She offered him an apologetic smile and decided to keep an eye on him to see if he needed any help with the day's lesson. He often did, but he seemed to have more of an issue with self-confidence than actual lack of magical ability. As soon as she sent a ready smile and a kind word his way, he was usually able to figure it out pretty quickly.

Clearing his throat, the tiny Charms Professor began. "Good morning, class!" They chimed their return greetings. "Today we are going to be working on a very useful little spell - the Levitation Charm. I'm sure you've read all about it in the assigned reading from last time, but let's review a bit. It works on all different types and sizes of objects, though different spells should be used on humans and other living things. It is easiest to start with something small and light." He flicked his wrist, sending a pile of white on the corner of his desk fluttering in all directions. A snowy feather settled in front of each student. "The incantation is, 'Wingardium Leviosa.' The wand movement is as follows: swish and flick!"

The crowd whispered in excitement, many of them picking their wands up to start trying. Flitwick lowered his wand as he finished the lecture, so Hermione took that as her cue to give it a go. Nearly everyone was saying the incantation wrong. Hermione rolled her eyes and felt a twinge of frustration. How was it that so many children who grew up surrounded by magic could be such dunderheads when it came to their magical education? Even Malfoy, the ever-loving definition of a pureblood prince born with a silver spoon in his mouth, didn't have the pronunciation quite right. She sighed, drawing her attention back to her own work.

Her wand was raised to cast the spell when Ron started jabbing his wand repeatedly in the direction of his feather. Hermione started to fear for her own safety and quickly put a stop to the movement. "Slow down! You're going to hurt someone. It's like this." She showed him the movement and proper pronunciation of the incantation, sending her own feather rising steadily toward the ceiling. Smiling in satisfaction, she looked back to find the redhead glaring daggers at her.

"I know you love to show off, but can you just let me figure it out myself?" He huffed, turning his back to her as much as possible with their shoulders nearly touching.

Offended that her help had been so rudely received, Hermione huffed but continued sending her feather higher and higher, revelling in the fact that she was the only student who had managed to perform the charm correctly.

Glancing up, she caught Malfoy's silvery eyes on her, regarding her with a thoughtful look, his brow furrowed. He glanced away before she did, looking back at his feather. He practised the wand movement once more before adding the incantation, saying it properly this time. His feather started to rise, and Hermione found herself glowing inside, just a bit, at the acknowledgement that she had done it right and that her help had at least been received well by someone.

Her thoughts were quickly diverted away from Draco when an explosion sounded from a few seats away. Without looking, Hermione knew it was Seamus, and she sighed. The boy was an absolute menace with a wand. He bragged about his penchant for pyrotechnics and matching dragon heartstring core of his wand to anyone who would listen, but Hermione couldn't help but wonder if Ollivander had done the unthinkable and made a mistake by matching up the boy with this particular wand. Even though his accidental magic helped regrow his eyebrows and hair within hours of each explosion, he still spent more time looking singed than not.

Flitwick took a moment to clean up the mess before turning to regale Hermione with praise, also commending Draco for his efforts. The beaming smile on Hermione's face only lasted a moment, though, as Ron grumpily muttered, "Just have to be the best at everything, don't you?"

She ignored him, pushing the desire to snap back at him away and turning to help Neville with the spell. He always appreciated her help.

Or he at least had the good sense to realise he needed it and not turn it away.

She knew her mother hen, meddlesome ways got out of hand sometimes, but it was all done with the best intentions. That made it hurt all the more when she overheard Ronald griping about her superiority complex in the courtyard after class.

"Can you believe her? Not only does she have to be the best at everything, no! She has to rub your face in it, too. I'm surprised Neville even puts up with her, honestly. She doesn't deserve him."

She'd been walking a pace behind the redhead and his dorm mates, Dean, Seamus, and Harry. Neville had scurried off to check on a Herbology project before dinner and was not there to overhear the cutting words, much to Hermione's relief. Tears stung at the corners of her eyes anyway, and she rushed through the cluster of boys, not caring one bit that she hit the Weasley prat so hard in the shoulder that he nearly fell over as she made her escape.

He still had the nerve to holler, "Excuse you!"

Too much space separated her from the boys for her to hear the rest of their conversation, but she didn't want to hear it anyway. The thought that all of them might agree with Ronald made her chest ache with the familiar pain of rejection.

She collapsed on the floor of the girl's lavatory, too upset to care about the cleanliness of the time-worn surfaces there. Tears blurred her vision, and she swiped at them angrily.

From her earliest memories, her parents had told her that she could do, be, and achieve anything that she set her mind to. They'd taken her swottiness and over-achiever attitude in stride, even proclaiming their unending pride of her pristine marks in school and always offering their shoulders to cry on when she inadvertently alienated yet another friend with her uncontrollable desire to help her fellow students achieve in school at the same level she did.

Her reputation had preceded her, and she gradually came to be ignored by everyone but the most success-driven students in her classes. Looking back, she thought that they probably would have been Ravenclaws if they had come with her to Hogwarts. They were happy to spend their free time in the library and pair up with perfectionistic Hermione on group projects and the like.

It had been a relief to think she could leave her reputation behind at her Muggle school and start fresh at Hogwarts. Neville didn't seem to care one knut that she was a swot. He asked politely about her research, accompanied her to the library more often than not, and even asked for help with classwork when he needed it.

Even Harry had seemed thrilled that she was going to take over the responsibility of researching the mysterious, little package that the three-headed dog was guarding on the third floor.

But Ronald. Ugh, she could just slap the smirk that accompanied his ugly words right off his freckled face. And she was not naturally prone to violence, so that was saying something. She didn't feel like he was a genuinely bad person, but he had a serious case of overlooked middle-child syndrome with a chip on his shoulder to go with it. He wanted to be good at everything, well-liked, cool, not hiding in the shadows of any of his older siblings...all at the same time and without any help. Hermione wasn't sure how accepting her assistance in class was a bad thing in his mind, but she was absolutely certain she wouldn't be trying to help him with anything else anytime soon.

Her pity party went unnoticed as she stayed locked in the first floor bathroom. No one came to check on her, and she was suddenly grateful that she didn't have any close female friends so her tears could flow, undisturbed.

That is, she was grateful until she heard a dim thud in the hall outside the loo.

The floor seemed to quake, no small feat in an ancient castle made of stone and reinforced by magic. Furrowing her brow, tears momentarily forgotten, she wondered if perhaps this was another prank pulled by Peeves or the Weasley twins. She wouldn't put it past either party, especially on the night of Halloween.

When the noise got louder, creeping ever closer, her curiosity was piqued. She wasn't sure whether to be offended or flattered that she'd been picked as the brunt of a joke.

Cracking the door open, she made her way out of the stall, drying her eyes and hoping she didn't look too miserable as she prepared to investigate the commotion.

Suddenly, the door to the bathroom burst open, allowing a bloody enormous creature to stumble its way in. Its legs looked like two tree trunks. Covered in rough, greenish-grey skin, it was possibly the ugliest thing she'd ever seen. Dragging an oversized club along at its side, it looked equal parts terrifying and confused.

Not a good combination.

Creeping backwards, trying to remain inconspicuous, Hermione stared at its hideous, filthy face and thought she was pretty sure it was just a common mountain troll. She'd read all about them, of course, but looking at an illustration of one and coming face to face with the actual thing were completely different experiences. As much as she liked to mix hands-on learning with her time in the library, she rather preferred the book version of this one. Her panicking brain supplied her with random facts on the species, including the notion that they were usually quite stupid and only violent if provoked or faced off against other 'dark creatures.'

Though Hermione didn't think of herself as such, werewolves were unfortunately lumped into that category.

Bugger.

The troll staggered forward slowly, causing Hermione's heart to pound loudly in her chest as she took refuge in the bathroom stall once more. The club slammed into the wood of the loo stalls, splintering the top half of the row as if it was cutting through butter instead of solid objects, sending planks and broken bits raining down on top of Hermione's crouched form.

Lifting her head, she peeked out to try and come up with an escape plan. Instead of seeing an empty doorway, her gaze was met by that of Neville, Harry, and Ron. Neville looked as furious as he was terrified, and she wondered if he'd heard about Ron's comments from earlier in the day. She didn't really understand what he saw in her, but she was more and more grateful for his unflagging friendship every day.

Lost in that thought, she nearly missed it when Harry shouted, "Hermione, get down!"

Her animal instincts sent her to the floor, body flattened to the flagstones with arms raised to cover her head just in time. The troll sent another sweeping blow to the stalls, destroying what was left of the dividers and shattering the porcelain and wood that dared to stand in its way as it sought to take out the perceived threat.

Merlin, Hermione had never wished so much that she wasn't a werewolf in her entire life.

Darting out from under the carnage, she sought refuge beneath one of the sinks, knowing there was nothing in the room that could keep her safe but not daring to try to make a run past the troll to reach the safety of the hall. She looked at the boys with tears of fear in her eyes, begging one of them to help. Harry, the only one of them raised as a Muggle, started throwing chunks of wood at the troll in an attempt to distract it. Ron quickly followed suit, adding in the occasional shout of, "Oi! You tosser! Leave her alone!"

No matter how mad she'd been at the git earlier, she was infinitely grateful for his help in that moment. Neville was staring at the troll with a look of determination on his face, and Hermione was shocked when he leapt onto its shoulders, beating him on the face and head with his fists as he clung to stay on with his legs.

Clumsy as the Longbottom heir was, he managed to accidentally put his wand up the troll's nose.

That only seemed to make things worse. The troll paused its werewolf-destroying rampage to swat at Neville with its free hand, shattering sinks and mirrors with the club as it flailed to and fro. Harry joined the fray, grabbing onto the troll's arm and holding on for dear life. Hermione couldn't bear the thought of losing either of her new friends this way, so she turned an imploring gaze to Ron, the only other person in the room who seemed to understand that something more than physical force was going to be required to take the monster down. At the same time, Harry yelled, "Ron! You've got to stop it!"

Looking terrified and powerless in the face of the troll's rage, Ron choked out, "How?"

Hoping against hope that he wouldn't be offended, Hermione yelled, "Swish and flick!"*

Whipping his wand out of his pocket, Ron followed her prompting, not even the slightest hint of annoyance in his gaze as he played the hero, making all his wildest dreams come true.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

The club slipped easily from the troll's hand, causing it to pause its movements for a long, confused moment.

Ron's grin nearly broke his face in half. "Brilliant."

The word sent the club plummeting back down, directly onto the troll's bald head.

It stood, stunned, for a long moment before its eyelids fluttered closed, dropping Harry as it crashed to its knees, giving Neville a few seconds to scramble down from his perch on its shoulders before it toppled over altogether.

With a look of distaste, Neville retrieved his troll-bogey-covered wand. The other boys groaned in shared disgust.

"Do you think it's dead?" Hermione asked, voice quivering.

"Don't really care to stick around and find out," Neville muttered, cleaning his wand on the hem of his robes as he stepped further away from the troll.

The four students all stood staring dubiously at the fallen creature, unsure of what to do next, when Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell entered the room, all poised for action with wands aloft until they realised that the troll had already been taken care of...more or less. Professor McGonagall's wide eyes flew over all of them, ensuring that no one had been hurt, and stayed on Hermione's face the longest, a look of something beyond the girl's comprehension hidden in the professor's wizened features.

Turning to the boys, McGonagall started in on them. "What in the name of Merlin and Morgana did the three of you think you were doing?"

Thinking for only a split second, Hermione cut in, "This was my fault, Professor." Her eyes implored the Transfiguration Professor to hear the deeper meaning of her words, even as she lied through her teeth. "I'd read about trolls and thought I could help. Obviously, I misjudged things." Nodding to the boys, she added, "They saved my life."

A tiny nod made Hermione think that Professor McGonagall knew that she was doing her best to offer a possible explanation while really attempting to hide the fact that she was a werewolf from everyone else in the room.

Why else would the troll have become so aggressive?

Fortunately, the other professors and the Gryffindor boys thought nothing of her excuse, and Neville and the others grinned when Hermione's five point loss was made up two-fold when each of them received five points of their own for their help in protecting their housemate.

Quirrell looked around nervously, as usual, and Snape looked downright murderous.

The smell of blood caught Hermione's attention, and she searched for the source of it, finally landing on Snape's leg. Harry followed her gaze, eyes widening at the sight of the blood staining the Potions Professor's trousers. He whipped his robes over the injury and stalked from the room, leaving Hermione and Harry to wonder just what had wounded Professor Snape.

Hermione was beyond relieved when Professor McGonagall broke the awkward silence to escort all four of them to Gryffindor Tower, leaving the subject of the troll behind them.

She would be more than happy to never speak of it again.

Slumping down onto the plush sofas of the common room, Neville seemed to be the only one who'd held onto his bad mood after their near-death experience. He looked at Ron, meeting the redhead's eyes with a pointed look before jerking his chin at Hermione.

Blushing, Ron mumbled, "Erm, I'm sorry for what I said earlier, Hermione." When Neville's death glare only intensified, he added, "I get enough mothering from my own mom, not to mention my brothers, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

Mouth dropping open in shock, Hermione couldn't do more than stare at Ron, gaze slowly turning to Neville in question. He looked extremely pleased with himself, grinning at Hermione.

Normally, she would have been frustrated that someone had tried to fight her battles for her.

But, just this once, she allowed herself to feel taken care of, knowing her best friend wouldn't let anyone speak poorly of her behind her back.

Her smile was a little strained as she thanked Ron, but the quick grin she offered Neville was sincere as she mouthed, "Thank you."

A/N: Obviously, much of this chapter was borrowed from canon then given my own little TLL twist. This particular part is the only bit that I copied exactly, but I just wanted to give credit where it's due. Jo is queen and all that. ;)

Thank you for all your kind reviews and continued support for the Marauder Medals! Words can't express how grateful I am for all the lovely things you've had to say. (Plus it doesn't hurt the muse any to hear how much you're loving the things I post, so there's that. Haha) If you want to vote for this fic, me (as Best Up and Coming Author), Time Traveller's Disease (as Best One-Shot/Drabble and Best Remus), or Prongs and the Blue Fairy Potion (as best James), visit here: tinyurl DOT com / yblfyctm (take out the spaces and change the DOT to a period. :) ) No pressure! But I'd love you forever. Haha

Beta thanks to Mahawna, as always! She's the best. :)