The next day, Ron, Clary, and Lucy were surprised to find Draco waiting by the entrance to the Great Hall, no Crabbe or Goyle in sight. Lucy was tempted to walk right past but the desperation in his eyes stopped her.

"Lucy!" he called, checking quickly to make sure no one was around and waving her over. Ron and Clary quickly stepped forward as though they were ready to chase him away, but Lucy sighed and shoved the both of them towards the door.

"What if it's a trick?" Clary asked, glaring at the boy over Lucy's shoulder.

"Then I can handle him myself," Lucy mumbled. "He warned me not to go, but if he makes one wrong move, I can defend myself. Now go!"

Ron and Clary nodded before leaving the two alone, though they kept glancing back to check on them. To keep them happy, Lucy took out her wand and approached Draco cautiously. "They're worried," she explained.

"They don't have to be," he said showing his empty hands. "I'm unarmed. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Filch didn't catch you?

"If he did, none of us would be here. Hermione, Neville, and Clary followed us out last night."

"What?" His eyes widened. "Then almost half of the first-years would've at least lost points if you were caught…"

"But we weren't," Lucy took a breath, wondering if she should tell him. Ron would kill her. Clary would question her sanity. "We hid in the forbidden corridor."

Now Draco's eyebrows were almost to his hairline. "Are you mad? That's even worse than being caught by Filch! Or didn't you hear Dumbledore?"

"How do you know? Have you ever been inside?" she asked defensively.

"Of course not," he said, flushing. "I'm not some foolish Gryffindor who rushes into danger! Don't the words 'painful death' mean anything to you?"

"We didn't realize it was the forbidden corridor until we turned around!" Lucy exclaimed.

Draco paused, glancing around again, before pulling her closer. "What do you mean?"

"We turned around and there was this huge, three-headed dog!"

His face paled. "You're joking."

"Ask Clary. She's probably still a little hysterical."

Draco paused, thinking it over. Finally, he said, "At least you're safe."

"Do you really care?" she asked, crossing her arms. "You never showed up."

"Blaise thought it would be funny," Draco said, almost placatingly. "If I'd gone, I would be an honorary Griyffindor! I warned you!"

"What's so bad about being a Gryffindor?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

"My father would kill me! The only other house a Malfoy can be can be associated with is Ravenclaw."

"That's a rule?"

"Practically."

She paused, thinking this over. She almost felt sorry for him and his sister. "Then why do you want to be friends with me?"

He opened his mouth to answer before shutting it again and looking away. At first, Draco had only wanted to be friends with her because his father would have wanted that. He did want to make his father proud. But, of course he couldn't tell her any of this. Besides all that, she'd rejected him, why was he still trying so hard? He realized the answer almost immediately.

"Because I want real friends," he heard himself say. "I have Crabbe and Goyle, but that's like having pet rocks. Blaise is only my friend for as long as he thinks he thinks he can use me."

"If we're going to be friends, then you're going to have to be honest about it eventually."

"For now, can't we keep it a secret?" He asked. "My father wouldn't understand –"

"Doesn't he care if you're happy?" Lucy didn't understand. Weren't parents supposed to be selfless where their children were concerned? The way Draco described his own father reminded her of the Dursleys.

"He cares about the family name," Draco sneered. "If I'm seen in public with a crowd of Gryffindors, he would probably send me to Durmstrang."

Lucy could only assume that was another school. "When would you be honest about our friendship?"

"When I come of age," he answered. "Or sometime around then."

"That's six years!" Lucy exclaimed. "Is it even possible to keep a secret that long?"

"I'm a Slytherin," he scoffed, raising his chin confidently. "We're meant to be secretive."

Lucy fought the urge to roll her eyes. "As long as you're sure."

He grinned and held out his hand for her to shake. "I'm sure, but only if you think you can trust me. I promise to keep our friendship a secret for as long as you trust me."

And, unbelievably, she did. She took his hand and felt a bit of something like static go through her own. She gave him a questioning look.

"It's just a bit of magic," he explained. "It makes the promise a little more binding. Nothing like an Unbreakable Vow, but it's a pretty effective as a reminder. Every time either of us feels the urge to say something, the magic will make us hesitate but it can't stop us. Either of us will know if the other breaks the promise. If I tell my father or anyone in Slytherin we're friends, you'll know."

"And if I stop trusting you, you'll know," she nodded. "Shouldn't we go in now?"

"Right, but it would look suspicious for us to walk in together," he said this as he moved aside. "Witches first."

She grinned a bit before going in to join her friends at their table. Clary gave her a once over before sighing in relief and pulling out a chair. "Perfect timing. We were worried we'd find bodies on the way out."

"You were worried we'd find bodies," Ron corrected. "I was worried we wouldn't find any bodies at all."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "You two need to stop. Draco is not that bad!"

"You're right. He's just a pureblooded git who hates my family."

"You didn't even give him a chance! Rupert was right, you did start that fight on the train," Lucy said.

"Rupert's a spoiled, little prat who –" Ron was cut off by Clary hitting him with the Prophet.

"Rupert's my little brother, you git!" She exclaimed.

"I thought you two were fighting!"

"Not anymore," said Clary, opening the newspaper. "Last night, he brought me Cauldron Cakes."

"And that's it? He's forgiven?"

"He snuck into the Gryffindor common room for me, of course he's forgiven."

"How did he –?"

"He's the Voyant, all he has to do is look," said Clary, rolling her eyes. "He knows all the passwords for all the houses. It's scary when you think about what a person could do with that kind of information. Better not tell the twins." Seeing them, she paused. "Lucy, why don't you tell Ron what you told me this morning? About the package."

Following her gaze, Lucy and Ron seemed to understand and Lucy proceeded to fill Ron in.

Lucy told him about the package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and they spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection.

"It's either really valuable or really dangerous," said Ron.

"Or both," said Lucy.

"I'm betting on both," said Clary.

But as all they knew for sure about the mysterious object was that it was about two inches long, they didn't have much chance of guessing what it was without further clues.

Neither Neville or Hermione showed the slightest interest in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor. All Neville cared about was never going near the dog again.

Hermione was now refusing to speak to Lucy, Clary and Ron, but she was such a bossy know-it-all that they saw this as an added bonus. All they really wanted now was a way of getting back at Zabini, and to their great delight, just such a thing arrived with the post about a week later.

As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by a long thin package carried by six large screech owls. Lucy was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in this large parcel and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped it right in front of her, knocking her bacon to the floor. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel.

Lucy ripped open the letter first, which was lucky, because it said:

DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE. It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch pitch at seven o'clock for your first training session.

Professor M. McGonagall

Lucy had difficulty hiding her glee as she handed the note to Ron and Clary to read.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron moaned enviously. "I've never even touched one."

"I would turn green just holding it," Clary joked, "but that's great for you, Lucy!"

They left the Hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private before their first lesson, but halfway across the Entrance Hall they found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Zabini seized the package from Lucy and felt it. Draco stood off to the side and sneered. When Zabini turned away, he gave her a sympathetic look.

"That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back to Lucy with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be for it this time, Potter, first-years aren't allowed them."

Ron couldn't resist it.

"It's not any old broomstick," he said, "it's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" Ron grinned at Lucy. "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."

"What would you know about it, Weasley you couldn't afford half the handle," Draco snapped back. "I suppose you and your brothers have to save up, twig by twig." Lucy frowned at him. He'd promised not to fight with her friends! Draco looked pointedly at Zabini. Right, like he could resist saying that if Zabini weren't there. Well, Ron had started it.

Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow.

"Not arguing, I hope, boys?" he squeaked.

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Zabini quickly.

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Lucy. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir," said Lucy, fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Zabini's face and the look of mild amusement on Draco's. "And it's really thanks to Zabini here that I've got it," she added.

Lucy, Clary and Ron headed upstairs, smothering their laughter at Zabini's obvious rage and confusion.

"Well, it's true," Lucy chortled as they reached the top of the marble staircase. "If he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall I wouldn't be in the team ..."

"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?" came an angry voice from just behind them. Hermione was stomping up the stairs looking disapprovingly at the package in Lucy's hand. Clary sighed, disappointed. She'd thought they'd finally gotten rid of her.

"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" said Lucy.

"Yes, don't stop now," said Ron, "it's doing us so much good." Hermione marched away with her nose in the air.

Lucy had a lot of trouble keeping her mind on her lessons that day. It kept wandering up to the dormitory, where her new broomstick was lying under her bed, or straying off to the Quidditch pitch where she'd be learning to play that night. She bolted her dinner that evening without noticing what she was eating and then rushed upstairs with Ron and Clary to unwrap the Nimbus Two Thousand at last.

"Wow," Clary sighed, as the broomstick rolled on to Lucy's bedspread. "I can't ride a broom, but I can definitely appreciate some good craftsmanship."

Even Lucy, who knew nothing about the different brooms, thought it looked wonderful. Sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold near the top.

"We'd better show Ron, before he tries to find a way up here and gets himself into some real trouble," Clary said standing up and straightening her robes. Needless to say, Clary had been right.

As seven o'clock drew nearer, Lucy left the castle and set off towards the Quidditch pitch in the dusk. She'd never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the pitch so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the pitch were three golden poles with hoops on the end. They reminded Lucy of the little plastic sticks Muggle children blew bubbles through, except that they were fifty feet high.

Too eager to fly again to wait for Wood, Lucy mounted her broomstick and kicked off from the ground. What a feeling – she swooped in and out of the goalposts and then sped up and down the pitch. The Nimbus Two Thousand turned wherever she wanted at her lightest touch. Imagine Dudley's face if he saw me doing this, she thought with a giggle.

"Hey, Potter, come down!"

Oliver Wood had arrived. He was carrying a large wooden crate under his arm. Lucy landed next to him.

"Very nice," said Wood, his eyes glinting. Lucy wondered absently if he noticed the blush that spread across her cheeks. Wood really was kind of handsome. "I see what McGonagall meant ... you really are a natural. I'm just going to teach you the rules this evening, then you'll be joining team practice three times a week."

He opened the crate while Lucy took the opportunity to compose herself. Inside were four different-sized balls.

"Right," said Wood. "Now, Quidditch is easy enough to understand, even if it's not too easy to play. There are seven players on each side. Three of them are called Chasers."

"Three Chasers," Lucy repeated, as Wood took out a bright red ball about the size of a football.

"This ball's called the Quaffle," said Wood. "The Chasers throw the Quaffle to each other and try and get it through one of the hoops to score a goal. Ten points every time the Quaffle goes through one of the hoops. Follow me?"

"The Chasers throw the Quaffle and put it through the hoops to score," Lucy recited. "So – that's sort of like basketball on broomsticks with six hoops, isn't it?"

"What's basketball?" said Wood curiously.

"Never mind," said Lucy quickly.

"Now, there's another player on each side who's called the Keeper – I'm Keeper for Gryffindor. I have to fly around our hoops and stop the other team from scoring."

"Three Chasers, one Keeper," said Lucy, who was determined to remember it all. "And they play with the Quaffle. OK, got that. So what are they for?" She pointed at the three balls left inside the box.

"I'll show you now," said Wood. "Take this."

He handed Lucy a small club, a bit like a rounders bat.

"I'm going to show you what the Bludgers do," Wood said. "These two are the Bludgers."

He showed Lucy two identical balls, jet black and slightly smaller than the red Quaffle. Lucy noticed that they seemed to be straining to escape the straps holding them inside the box.

"Stand back," Wood warned Lucy. He bent down and freed one of the Bludgers.

At once, the black ball rose high in the air and then pelted straight at Lucy's face. Lucy swung at it with the bat to stop it breaking her nose and sent it zig-zagging away into the air – it zoomed around their heads and then shot at Wood, who dived on top of it and managed to pin it to the ground.

"See?" Wood panted, forcing the struggling Bludger back into the crate and strapping it down safely. "The Bludgers rocket around trying to knock players off their brooms. That's why you have two Beaters on each team. The Weasley twins are ours – it's their job to protect their side from the Bludgers and try and knock them towards the other team. So – think you've got all that?"

"Three Chasers try and score with the Quaffle; the Keeper guards the goalposts; the Beaters keep the Bludgers away from their team," Lucy reeled off.

"Very good," said Wood.

"Er – have the Bludgers ever killed anyone?" Lucy asked, hoping she sounded offhand. Still, it was a valid question.

"Never at Hogwarts. We've had a couple of broken jaws but nothing worse than that. Now, the last member of the team is the Seeker. That's you. And you don't have to worry about the Quaffle or the Bludgers – "

"– unless they crack my head open." Maybe Quidditch wasn't such a good idea.

"Don't worry, the Weasleys are more than a match for the Bludgers – I mean, they're like a pair of human Bludgers themselves."

Wood reached into the crate and took out the fourth and last ball. Compared with the Quaffle and the Bludgers, it was tiny, about the size of a large walnut. It was bright gold and had little fluttering silver wings.

"This," said Wood, "is the Golden Snitch, and it's the most important ball of the lot. It's very hard to catch because it's so fast and difficult to see. It's the Seeker's job to catch it. You've got to weave in and out of the Chasers, Beaters, Bludgers and Quaffle to get it before the other team's Seeker, because whichever Seeker catches the Snitch wins his team an extra hundred and fifty points, so they nearly always win. That's why Seekers get fouled so much. A game of Quidditch only ends when the Snitch is caught, so it can go on for ages – I think the record is three months, they had to keep bringing on substitutes so the players could get some sleep.

"Well, that's it – any questions?"

Lucy shook her head. She understood what she had to do all right, it was doing it that was going to be the problem.

"We won't practise with the Snitch yet," said Wood, carefully shutting it back inside the crate. "It's too dark, we might lose it. Let's try you out with a few of these."

He pulled a bag of ordinary golf balls out of his pocket, and a few minutes later, he and Lucy were up in the air, Wood throwing the golf balls as hard as he could in every direction for Lucy to catch.

Lucy didn't miss a single one, and Wood was delighted. After half an hour, night had really fallen and they couldn't carry on.

"That Quidditch Cup'll have our name on it this year," said Wood happily as they trudged back up to the castle. "I wouldn't be surprised if you turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn't gone off chasing dragons."

Perhaps it was because she was now so busy, what with Quidditch practice three evenings a week on top of all her homework, but Lucy could hardly believe it when she realised that she'd already been at Hogwarts two months. The castle felt more like home than Privet Drive had ever done. Her lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that they had mastered the basics. On Hallowe'en morning they woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they'd seen him make Neville's toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practise. Lucy's partner was Clary(which was a relief, because Neville had been trying to catch her eye). Ron, however, was to be working with Hermione Granger. It was hard to tell whether Ron or Hermione was angrier about this. She hadn't spoken to any of them since the day Lucy's broomstick had arrived.

"Poor Ron," Clary whispered. Lucy nodded in agreement. "I don't know what I'd do if I was paired with that know-it-all."

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practising!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too – never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

It was very difficult. Lucy and Clary swished and flicked, but the feather they were supposed to be sending skywards just lay on the desktop. Clary got so impatient that she prodded it with her wand and set fire to it – Lucy had to put it out with her hat. Seamus Finnegan paired with Neville did the same, and Neville followed Lucy's example by putting out the fire with his hat.

"Drat!" exclaimed Clary. "How is this supposed to help me protect Rupert? I can't just levitate a feather and tickle them to death!"

"You can always set them on fire," Lucy quipped. "You seem to be good at that."

Clary shot her a quick glare, ready to give up when she noticed Ron, at the next table, wasn't having much more luck.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill.

"You're saying it wrong," Lucy heard Hermione snap. "It's Wing- gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."

"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled.

Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand and said, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it!"

Ron was in a very bad temper by the end of the class.

"It's no wonder no one can stand her," he said to Lucy and Clary as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor. Rupert joined them, seemingly coming out of nowhere. "She's a nightmare, honestly."

Someone knocked into Lucy as they hurried past her. It was Hermione. Lucy caught a glimpse of her face – and was startled to see that she was in tears.

"I think she heard you."

"So?" said Ron, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. "She must've noticed she's got no friends."

"I told you to watch what you say," said Rupert, smugly. "You're just jealous that you couldn't do it yourself."

"You little –!" He stopped when he saw the look on Clary's face. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does," Rupert blurted out. "Something's going to happen and – "

"Rupert!" Clary yelled.

He turned to glare at her. "What's the point of seeing these things if I can't even say anything?"

Clary was silent. He started to leave.

"Where're you going, Rupert?" she asked.

"To have tea and lemon drops!" And he left.

Hermione didn't turn up for the next class and wasn't seen all afternoon. On their way down to the Great Hall for the Hallowe'en feast, Lucy, Clary and Ron overheard Parvati Patil telling her friend Lavender that Hermione was crying in the girls' toilets and wanted to be left alone. Ron looked still more awkward at this, but a moment later they had entered the Great Hall, where the Hallowe'en decorations put Hermione out of their minds.

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

Lucy was just helping herself to a jacket potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the Hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table and gasped, "Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Percy was in his element.

"Follow me! Stick together, first-years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first-years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a Prefect!"

"How could a troll get in?" Lucy asked as they climbed the stairs.

"Don't ask me, they're supposed to be really stupid," said Ron. "Maybe Peeves let it in for a Hallowe'en joke."

"How do we know it wasn't Fred?" Clary asked. Ron gave her an odd look. "Just joking."

They passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions. As they jostled their way through a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs, Lucy suddenly grabbed Clary's Ron's arms.

"I've just thought – Hermione."

"What about her?"

"She doesn't know about the troll." Ron bit his lip. It was Clary's turn to give him that odd look.

"Oh, all right," he snapped. "But Percy'd better not see us."

Ducking down, they joined the Hufflepuffs going the other way, slipped down a deserted side corridor and hurried off towards the girls' toilets. They had just turned the corner when they heard quick footsteps behind them.

"Percy!" hissed Ron, pulling Lucy and Clary behind a large stone griffin.

Peering around it, however, they saw not Percy but Snape. He crossed the corridor and disappeared from view.

"What's he doing?" Lucy whispered. "Why isn't he down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?"

"Search me."

Quietly as possible, they crept along the next corridor after Snape's fading footsteps.

"He's heading for the third floor," Lucy said, but Ron held up his hand.

"Can you smell something?"

Lucy and Clary sniffed and a foul stench reached their noses, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean.

And then they heard it – a low grunting and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. Ron pointed: at the end of a passage to the left, something huge was moving towards them. They shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight. It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite grey, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

"The key's in the lock," Lucy muttered. "We could lock it in."

"Good idea," said Ron nervously.

They edged towards the open door, mouths dry, praying the troll wasn't about to come out of it. With one great leap, Lucy managed to grab the key, slam the door and lock it.

"Yes!"

Flushed with their victory they started to run back up the passage, but as they reached the corner they heard something that made their hearts stop – a high, petrified scream – and it was coming from the chamber they'd just locked up.

"Oh, no," said Ron, pale as the Bloody Baron.

"It's the girls' toilets!" Lucy gasped.

'Hermione!' they all said.

It was the last thing they wanted to do, but what choice did they have? Wheeling around they sprinted back to the door and turned the key, fumbling in their panic – Lucy pulled the door open – they ran inside.

Hermione Granger was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went.

"Confuse it!" Lucy said desperately to Ron and Clary, and seizing a tap she threw it as hard as she could against the wall.

The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Lucy. It hesitated, then made for her instead, lifting its club as it went.

"Oy, pea-brain!" yelled Ron from the other side of the chamber, and he threw a metal pipe at it. The troll didn't even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout towards Ron instead, giving Lucy time to run around it.

"Come on, run, run!" Lucy yelled at Hermione, trying to pull her towards the door, but she couldn't move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror.

"Over here!" yelled Clary, trying just as hard as Ron to distract the troll.

The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started towards Ron, who was nearest and had no way to escape.

Lucy then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: she took a great running jump and managed to fasten her arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Lucy hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Lucy's wand had still been in her hand when she'd jumped – it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils. Frozen in fear, Clary did the only thing she could think of — she did a bit of accidental magic. She blinded the troll with fireworks.

Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Lucy clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip her off or catch her a terrible blow with the club.

Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright; Ron pulled out his own wand – not knowing what he was going to do he heard himself cry the first spell that came into his head: "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The club flew suddenly out of the troll's hand, rose high, high up into the air, turned slowly over – and dropped, with a sickening crack, on to its owner's head. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

Lucy got to her feet. She was shaking and out of breath. Ron was standing there with his wand still raised, staring at what he had done. Clary had sunk to her knees, speechless.

It was Hermione who spoke first.

"Is it – dead?"

"I don't think so," said Lucy. "I think it's just been knocked out." She bent down and pulled her wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy grey glue.

"Urgh – troll bogies."

She wiped it on the troll's trousers.

"So that's what that spell can do," said Clary.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the four of them look up. They hadn't realised what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Ron, Clary and Lucy. Lucy had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white. Hopes of winning fifty points for Gryffindor faded quickly from Lucy's mind.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Lucy looked at Ron, who was still standing with his wand in the air. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Snape gave Lucy a swift, piercing look. Lucy looked at the floor. She wished Ron would put his wand down.

Then a small voice came out of the shadows.

"Please, Professor McGonagall – they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last.

"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." Ron dropped his wand. Hermione Granger, telling a downright lie to a teacher? Lucy could see Clary's jaw drop.

"If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Lucy stuck her wand up its nose, Clary blinded it, and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

Lucy, Clary and Ron tried to look as though this story wasn't new to them.

"Well – in that case ..." said Professor McGonagall, staring at the four of them. "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

Hermione hung her head. Lucy was speechless. Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending she had, to get them out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started handing out sweets.

"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor Tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

Hermione left.

Professor McGonagall turned to Lucy, Clary and Ron.

"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first-years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."

They hurried out of the chamber and didn't speak at all until they had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else.

"We should have got more than fifteen points," Ron grumbled.

"Ten, you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's."

"Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admitted.

"Mind you, we did save her," Clary added.

"She might not have needed saving if we hadn't locked the thing in with her," Lucy reminded them.

They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Pig snout," they said and entered.

The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for them. There was a very embarrassed pause. Then, none of them looking at each other, they all said "Thanks", and hurried off to get plates.

But from that moment on, Hermione Granger became their friend. There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.

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