So here is the second chapter, aptly named Trolls in the Dungeons. Why aptly named? I don't know. Someone actually says something about a troll in the dungeon during the chapter. Is that the definition of aptly named? Probably not. But it sounds good.

I digress ... Enjoy ...

- Chapter Two -

Trolls in the Dungeons

As evening fell, Hermione made her way to the solitude of the Gryffindor dorms. She knew everyone would be commiserating in the common room for several more hours before retiring for the night. This finally gave Hermione an opportunity to read Killian's letter with a certain air of privacy. The anticipation had been eating away at her throughout the day as she made several attempts to find a secluded area, only to be thwarted by the usually welcome company of Harry, Ron, or both. Finally, she thought as she carelessly tore through the envelope and removed the letter from within, she had a moment to herself.

Dear Hermione,

Although I sit and put quill to parchment, I fear this letter will not reach you before we return to Hogwarts for the upcoming term. That being the possibility, it is likely you will have the pleasure of receiving this letter by personal delivery.

In regards to my sister's wedding ... please stop fidgeting with your hair.

Hermione sighed, disgusted in realizing that she had, in fact, been twirling her fingers through a lock of her hair. He thinks he's so clever, she thought while making a conscious effort to keep her hands on the letter as she read on.

As I was saying, in regards to my sister's wedding, it went on as well as can be expected. Due to last minute changes in the arrangements, as my sister has great difficulties with her decision-making processes, the ceremony and frivolities that followed were held on the family grounds. There was plenty of food, drink, music, dancing, and hundreds of guests, most of whom I had never met. I, myself, stayed long enough to fulfill my obligations as the sibling of the bride before finding a quiet area elsewhere in the manor to lose myself in a rather dry book of short essays on natural calamities. Unfortunately, there was no emotionally frustrated individual wandering the halls to rescue me from my literary torture.

Hermione laughed to herself as a warmth arose in her cheeks. The afterhours of the Yule Ball flashed through her mind. What an odd set of circumstances it had been that had led to their chance encounter. She could have wandered down any of the snaking halls of the castle that night. She could have just stayed in the dorms altogether. The odds of them crossing paths were astronomically minute at best.

Moving on to your comments about Fenrick Culious and his "unjust" incarceration for carrying a concealed wand within the Muggle community. It would interest you to know that while, in principle, you are correct, his incarceration fell well within the boundaries of the laws of the time. Culious was convicted by the Wizengamot in 1690. The International Confederation of Wizards met in 1692 to discuss and pass laws on several key securities within the wizarding community, including the allowance of any wizard to carry a wand at all times, regardless of the community or environment. It is all documented in "The Laws and Securities of the International Confederation of Wizards." We have a first edition in our library if you would like to confirm the facts. I would be happy to bring it for your reading pleasure.

Sincerely,

Killian

With a disgusted huff, Hermione tossed the letter onto her bed. She was well aware that Fenrick Culious was convicted in 1690. She was also aware that his actions would have been allowed following the ruling by the International Confederation of Wizards in 1692. That was her entire point regarding his unjust incarceration. After 1692, his crime was no longer considered illegal nor punishable in any regard. Being that his only offense was having a wand on his person, not actually brandishing it in the face of a Muggle, Hermione felt his sentence should have been overturned.

She grabbed a piece of parchment and quill and began to write her retort. She was sure that Killian knew exactly what she was alluding to in her letter, but was simply going to force her to put it out there in clear detail. He was extraordinarily frustrating in that sense. Regardless, the passion it invoked in her made her almost euphoric as her words raced from her mind and stained the parchment.

As she finished her letter and sealed it in an envelope with a quick wisp of her tongue, Hermione began to ponder exactly how she was going to deliver her reply. Certainly, an owl would be pointless and time consuming. Her solution arrived in the form of, Crimna, one of Hogwarts' house-elves, who had, as luck would have it, just entered the room to turn down the beds.

Hermione bit her lip in contemplation. Using a house-elf would certainly be going against the very principles of S.P.E.W. However, given the current circumstances, she saw no other viable option. If Harry and Ron were available, she would ask them to deliver the letter, so asking Crimna to do it would be no different than asking a friend for a favor. This, of course, was complete rubbish, but she would use it as justification just the same.

"Excuse me," Hermione asked quietly of the house-elf as she delicately began turning down the sheets of the far bed.

Crimna jumped, startled that Hermione had spoken to her.

"Would student likes to be left alones?" she asked, her voice trembling, her eyes fixed on the floor as she nervously laced her fingers through the tattered pillowcase she wore as a makeshift garment.

"No, of course not," Hermione reassured. "I was actually hoping you could help me with a problem that I'm having."

"If pleases student," Crimna answered meekly, still failing to make eye contact.

"I need this letter delivered to a particular student," Hermione began, presenting the envelope. "And it is very important the letter arrives discreetly."

The reticent house-elf finally looked up at Hermione, wearing a sudden and surprisingly cheerful smile. "Crimna can be discreets,"she said with sudden, albeit reserved, excitement. "Crimna is very goods with secrets. Whose is letter?"

"Killian Finn," Hermione answered, feeling far less guilty as she observed the almost childlike glee in Crimna's mannerisms at the thought of being a part of a secret. "In Slytherin House."

The excitement in house-elf's expression melted away, as her saucer eyes filled with sudden anxiety. "Student asks I goes to the dungeons?"

Hermione's heart was wrenching as she realized Crimna clearly wanted nothing to do with wandering the bowels of Hogwarts' dungeons. The brief moment when Hermione thought she might have actually been offering Crimna a speck of happiness in her mundane and overworked life had evaporated before it even manifested in full. But still, she could find no alternative manner by which to convey her missive.

Desperately, she tried to think of a anything that could effectively persuade the timid creature. After a few moments of Hermione attempting with futility to muster a plausible thought, Crimna simply took the letter from Hermione's hand with a humble sigh.

"I do as student requests," she conceded.

Before Hermione could issue her thanks, the house-elf disappeared with a snap of her fingers.

Hermione now sat alone on her bed, conflicted with thoughts twisting and contorting within the vastness of her mind. She felt horrible for sending Crimna to the dungeons. Perhaps there was a better way. Maybe if she had thought about it for a moment longer, she could have arrived at a different solution.

Wallowing in thought, she was suddenly interrupted as Crimna returned with a resounding crack. She was still holding Hermione's letter for Killian, her eyes wider than normal, if that were even possible. Trembling with fear, she was seemingly afraid to speak.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, coming down from her bed and kneeling in front of the house-elf.

"Apologies, apologies," she began, her lips quivering. "I not delivers letter as student asks."

"Why?" Hermione questioned further. "Did someone see you?"

"No," Crimna assured. "No one sees."

"Then, what happened?"

"Terrible things," Crimna answered direly. "Terrible things in dungeons."

With that, she dropped the letter on the floor and Disapparated, leaving Hermione to ponder what the cryptic explanation meant. As she attempted to piece things together, she heard a commotion coming from the Gryffindor common room. She quickly picked up the letter and tucked it away in her shirt as she made her way down the spiraling set of stone steps leading from the dormitories.

When she reached the common room, she realized the news about the dungeons was spreading fast. Dean Thomas was regaling the room with bits of information he had overheard on his way from the Great Hall.

"Giant hole, I heard!" he exclaimed. "Blown right through the entrance to the Slytherin House! Stones and rubble everywhere!"

"What do you think happened?" Katie Bell asked as the other students listened in awe.

"Maybe there's another troll in the dungeons," Ron joked as he popped a chocolate frog in his mouth.

"I don't know," Dean went on. "Everyone's being real hushed about it. But, I'm telling you it was like a bloody battleground, the way I hear it. Ran into Ernie Macmillan on the way here. Said he caught a glimpse of everything before all the students were evacuated. Crazy!"

"Was anyone hurt?" Hermione asked, her face twisted with concern.

"Who cares?" Ron mocked with a mouthful of chocolate. "It's all Slytherins down there."

"Slytherins or not!" Hermione shouted angrily. "They're still students!"

Hermione's comments were met with the hush of astonished stares. Most noticeable to Hermione among the glassy eyes that fell upon her were those of Fred and George, who seemed more contemplative than shocked.

"That's right, git," Fred agreed, slapping Ron across the back of the head.

"We're all students here," George finished.

Suddenly disinterested with the present company, Hermione stormed back up the stairs to the dorms and threw herself onto her bed. She wanted desperately to reach out to someone and find out what happened, but knew that there was no possible way in which to do so. She was sure Killian was fine. She simply wanted the reassurance. She wanted to hear his voice telling her that he was safe and everything was all right.

As she lay there with horrific images flashing through her mind, she slowly drifted off to sleep. Her subconscious would not give her peace, however, as she dreamt of several mountain trolls cornering her in the dark confines of the castle dungeons, only to find that her wand was nothing more than a piece of half-eaten licorice.

. . .

The next morning, Hermione rushed herself ready and made her way to the Great Hall for breakfast, eager to catch a glimpse of Killian sitting safely at the Slytherin table. Just to see him, to put her mind at ease, that was all she wanted. But as she sat among her fellow Gryffindors, half-heartedly picking at her bowl of porridge, she saw no sign of him.

The Great Hall was filled with idle gossip and speculations about the previous night's events, ranging from the mundane to the overly dramatic. Of course, no one had any idea of what had actually transpired, but a lack of facts never tightened any tongues. The idea that everyone appeared to be relishing in the torments of the Slytherin House made Hermione's stomach turn.

"You all right?" Harry asked, clearly noticing Hermione's discontent.

"I don't feel well," Hermione answered, casting another inconspicuous glance towards the Slytherin table.

"You don't look well," Harry pointed out. "You should drink something," he added, offering her a glass of pumpkin juice.

Ron mumbled something with a mouthful of corn muffin. Although impossible to decipher, Hermione concluded it was his attempt to agree with Harry.

"I just need to get some air," she said as she pushed her bowl away and stood, slinging her overburdened bag over her shoulder. With a last glance at the Slytherin table, she left the Great Hall, nervously pulling at a lock of her hair.

Lunch and dinner left Hermione with the same feeling of emptiness, as Killian failed to show for either. She had hardly eaten all day, her mind wandering, her classes a seamless blur. Unable to stomach the aromas that wafted from the tables, she left dinner prematurely and headed out of the Great Hall, much to the continued concern of Harry and Ron.

Making her way to the Gryffindor common room, she found herself alone, the crackling embers of the fireplace providing her only company. Slumping down in one of the long couches, she stared into the glowing coals, feeling helpless. Where was he?

"Hey, Hermione," George said cheerfully as he and Fred entered the common room with a handful of Exploding Snaps and several apples.

"Feeling a bit off, are we?" Fred asked. "Want an apple?"

"I'm fine," Hermione replied, trying to temper her tone. She had grown tired of people asking after her well-being.

"Saw your friend," Fred said, tossing an apple to George, who took an enormous bite. "What was his name again? Flick? Flint?"

"Finn, wasn't it?" George asked with a glint in his eye.

Hermione sat up instinctively, but quickly attempted to play it off as if she was merely shifting on the couch. She really needed to mind her reactions.

"He's not a friend," she scoffed, trying to cover up. Her denial of Killian stung almost as much as his denial of her in the courtyard the previous day.

"Really?" George asked. "Our mistake, then."

Fred rubbed his chin. "Guess you wouldn't be interested to know he just got a letter?"

"And headed out to the garden," George added. "What, five minutes ago?"

"Two at best, I'd say," Fred corrected.

Hermione sat on the couch, biting her lip and trying to appear disinterested in the information the Weasley twins had presented. She could feel their eyes on the back of her head as she stared at the embers in the fire, contemplating her next move.

"You can go now," Fred said, his grin beaming as he cored one of the apples and filled it with Exploding Snaps.

So there it was. An odd wave of relief rolled through Hermione as she leapt from the couch and headed out of the common room. She was now certain that Fred and George knew her secret. She was further relieved in the realization that they would neither betray her nor Killian. If that was their intention, they certainly had ample opportunity throughout the day to so do. It simply was not in their nature.

Hermione raced down the stairs and out into the courtyard leading to the garden. The sun had set, but the sky was still illuminated in the twilight cast from the faint rays peeking from the edge of the horizon line over the Black Lake. As she approached the garden, her eyes still adjusting to the dim light, she heard a man's voice. Although she could not make out the words, his tone appeared to be quite angry. She glanced cautiously around the corner just in time to see the explosion of paper from Killian's Howler.

Killian's head hung low as he slumped down on the stone bench next to one of the many atriums encompassing the garden. Hermione quietly approached, gently placing her hand on his shoulder. Killian, apparently unaware of her presence, flinched unexpectedly. He then spun around and greeted Hermione with a forced smile.

He did not look quite as well dressed as normal. His robes were in order, but his hair, which he religiously kept back in a clean ponytail, was hanging free. A portion of it fell forward and covered his left eye.

"Sorry," Hermione apologized as she retreated a step. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Nonsense," Killian assured. "That was just ... Well, my father sends his regards," he added with more of a grimace than a smile as he slowly got to his feet, something that did not go unnoticed by Hermione.

"You were hurt!" she gasped.

"Calm down. It's nothing to be-" Killian began dismissively.

Hermione withdrew her wand and directed it towards Killian. "Lumos!"

The end of Hermione's wand glowed with a bright white light, illuminating the air around them. She could now see a large welt under Killian's eye, partially concealed by his hair, and a nasty split in his lower lip.

"My God, Killian," she said, covering her mouth. "Your face!"

"It's nothing," he offered in a failed attempt at reassurance. "Honestly."

Hermione pushed his hair aside to get a better look at his eye. "What happened?"

"I fell," Killian lied as he pulled Hermione's prying hand away from his face.

"You fell?" Hermione asked with doubt. "How many times?"

"Several, I imagine," Killian answered, his devilish grin emanating from below his battered features.

"You're lying to me! It's all over the school! What happened in the dungeons?"

Killian remained silent. Hermione was not sure if it was because he did not want to answer or because he could not come up with a plausible lie. Either way, she was not about to let him off the hook by his charm and persuasive manners.

"Stop smiling and answer me," she persisted.

"It was nothing," Killian insisted. "There was an accident. That is all. We were strictly instructed not to speak of it. We do not want to cause any doubt about the safety of the students and all of that. You know how parents can be."

"An accident?" Hermione asked, doubting whether she could believe this explanation. It seemed to be a bit simplified given the gravity of the damage that the other students had reported.

"You look a fright," Killian said with a soft smile.

"Well, you don't exactly look like a basket of fruit," Hermione retorted, letting her irritation with Killian's lack of forthrightness melt away.

"I suppose not," he conceded. "Have you eaten?"

"No."

"Well, why don't we head inside?"

The two cautiously made their way out of the garden and through the courtyard towards the castle.

"I was worried sick about you today," Hermione admitted as they checked to make sure no one was about.

"Were you?" Killian asked, stopping in his tracks, seemingly genuinely surprised.

"Of course I was," Hermione answered, slightly insulted that Killian would question her on the matter. "I hear that terrible things happened in the dungeons, you don't show up for breakfast, lunch, or dinner, I don't see you in the halls—"

Killian placed his hand over Hermione's mouth in an attempt to cease her nagging. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to worry you. It won't happen again."

Feeling his skin against her lips made Hermione's breath quiver. It was the first time they had such an intimate contact since the night they met. With few exceptions, their encounters had consisted mostly of words on paper or brief moments in time that barely offered a simple conversation. However, she was still angry with Killian and was not going to let a simple touch dissuade her.

"Oh, shut up," she huffed, slapping his hand away and continuing towards the Great Hall. "And you're a jerk for not letting me know that you were all right."

Killian smiled and followed. "Duly noted."

They arrived at the entrance to the Great Hall and peered inside. It was not nearly as full as it had been when Hermione had left. Harry and Ron were still at the table, engaged in some form of conversation or another with several other Gryffindors. Aside from that, the majority of the students appeared to have retired to their respective common rooms.

"I would suggest that we head in separately," Killian whispered. "We don't want to make a scene, do we?"

Hermione shook her head dismissively and entered the Great Hall, heading for the gathering at her House table. Harry and Ron immediately noticed her arrival and slid aside, offering her a place to sit.

"There you are," Ron said. "We were wondering where you'd gone. We were just hearing about the duel in the dungeons."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked, helping herself to what was left on the table.

"Seamus was just telling us," Harry answered.

"Telling you what?" Hermione questioned further.

"Go on." Harry gestured to Seamus, who was leaning against the table amongst the listening Gryffindors.

"Well, I went to see Madam Pomfrey," he began. "Had bit of an accident in Potions."

"Nearly burned your hand off is more of the way I would have described it," Lavender teased.

The table broke out in laughter as Ron nudged Seamus, who turned red with embarrassment, shaking his head and gesturing for everyone to quiet down.

"Do you want to hear the story or not?" he asked in a mock threat.

"Of course we do," Katie answered. "Just keep your wand where we can see it."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, laughing. "For everyone's safety."

Hermione wished they would all simply shut up so that Seamus could continue. She feigned disinterest, but kept her ears open, hoping to find some sense of truth in his story.

"Anyway," Seamus began again. "So I head up, and there isn't an empty bed in the whole room. There had to be seven or eight students laid up there. All Slytherins."

"All of them?" Lavender asked with disbelief.

"Every one of 'em," Seamus confirmed. "I know, because I asked Daphne Greengrass. She was there, visiting with one of 'em. She's a bitter little bat if I ever saw one."

Daphne's name rang through Hermione's ears like the bells of Notre Dame. Daphne Greengrass was visiting someone in the hospital wing? Hermione could think of only one person.

"Who was she visiting?" Harry asked, as if he could hear Hermione's thoughts.

"Pucey," Seamus answered. "Though you couldn't tell it by looking at 'im. Face looked like it had been through the ringer more than a bit."

Pucey. Of course it was Pucey. Who else would Daphne take time to visit? Maybe it was a coincidence. Hermione could hope for coincidence, even though every aspect of logic within her argued vehemently against it.

"Who else was there?" Lavender asked, her eyes widened with anticipation.

"How can you even tell?" Ron mocked. "All those Slytherins look the same."

The group broke out into laugher once again, with the exception of Hermione, who was staring daggers through the back of Ron's head. His lack of etiquette disgusted her at times. She should not really be angry. After all, Ron had no idea how cutting his words were to her. Then again, maybe that was the point. He never thought about who his words might hurt.

"There were several," Seamus continued after everyone quieted down a bit. "Nott, Baddock, Montague ..."

"Montague?" Dean exclaimed. "That mug is bloody huge!"

"Yeah," Seamus agreed. "Well, he's a bloody mess now. There were others, too. Harper, Bulstrode, and a couple more I didn't recognize."

"So what happened?" Katie asked. "Did Daphne say anything?"

"Not much," Seamus admitted. "Said she wasn't there. Thinks there must have been some sort of scuffle in the common room. Didn't say about what. Got ugly, though, that's for sure. Tore the room to shreds, blasted that hole in the House entrance. Snape was bloody furious when he came upon it!"

Harry laughed. "I'll bet." He seemed to enjoy the thought of Snape realizing he had lost control of the students within his own House.

"I bet Montague blasted Pucey," Dean theorized. "I would have. Pucey's a real git."

"Probably," Lavender agreed. "That would explain why everyone else was hurt."

"Yeah," Ron surmised. "Take a good four or five people to separate those two."

"Not the way Daphne figures it," Seamus interjected. "Says she thinks it was someone else. Name was Finn or something like that."

"Who's Finn?" Katie asked as the Gryffindors looked amongst each other with blank stares, shaking their heads.

Killian Finn, Hermione thought, her heart aching. Of course they would not know him. He was her secret, and they could not have him. They would not understand.

As she sat there listening to the table of students as they described the person they had never met nor heard of before that day, Hermione stared at her plate, fighting back the urge to cry. It was her fault. She knew it was her fault. They went after Killian because he stood by her side in the courtyard. He should not have come back that morning. He should have kept walking. He could have continued to be an unknown. Now everything had changed.

She glanced at the Slytherin table. Everyone at her table was too engrossed in conversation to pay any attention. She saw Killian sitting alone, his hair still hanging over his left eye to cover the underlying bruises. She also noticed the many Slytherins casting a watchful eye in his direction as he ate.

Even from a distance, she could see him biting his lower lip and wincing uncomfortably as he chewed. He was in more pain than he let on, but that did not surprise her at all. He was too proud for his own good at times.

As she watched him, Hermione was hit with a conflict of emotions. Everything that had transpired was due to her actions. But what had he done? What was he capable of doing? There were several Slytherins currently under the care of Madam Pomfrey, and Killian was not one of them. Why was she not afraid?

Killian looked up from his table, his eyes meeting with Hermione's for a brief moment. She saw his familiar grin sneak out from the corner of his mouth.

He's intolerable, she thought as she looked away so as not to be noticed making eyes across the Great Hall.

As she finished her dinner, Hermione smiled to herself. She did not know what tomorrow was going to bring, nor did she even care. He was still her secret. She was not afraid.