Wintersalad │ Disclaimer: I do not own "Harry Potter." │ Written: 7/16/12 │ Posted: 9/16/12 │ Last Edited: 9/16/12
by chance
"Potter! What is the meaning of this?"
Still dazed by all the adrenaline, Harry blinked towards the approaching figures, trying to register their presence and identities.
"I asked you a question, boy!"
Snapping to attention, having finally registered to whom that hateful and mean voice belonged to, Harry frowned at the potions master before replying, "It's the troll, sir."
"I can see that! What-"
"Now, now, Severus," the headmaster interrupted. "Let the young man speak."
Seeing his professors' expectant gazes, Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably. What was he supposed to say? That Ron was being a royal prat and made one of their own house-mates, a girl, cry alone for a good part of the evening? That said house-mate, having been away from the feast, wouldn't have known about the troll, and that he, they, were what? Trying to save her? Instead of, noting the disapproving frowns, going to a professor or even a prefect?
No matter what he said, it wouldn't end well.
A startled gasp caused Harry to glance towards his Head of House, as she seemed to have finally caught sight of Hermione. Face pinched in worry, he followed her line of sight to the bravest girl he ever met and felt shame and regret sink deep into his bones.
"We must get Miss Granger to the infirmary immediately!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed. With a wave of her wand, she locked the broken girl in place to prevent further injury and levitated her in the air before her. "I trust you all have the situation at hand. I'll leave this to you, professors." And with that, the woman marched briskly away towards the medical ward, tiny first-year floating behind her.
Witnessing the terrible injury the girl sustained, Albus Dumbledore frowned as he observed the situation more keenly.
Three boys, two Gryffindors and one Slytherin. Zero injuries. All this versus the one girl and one troll, both unconscious and maimed to different degrees.
Various scenarios played out in his mind, some better than the others, and some worse. The troll was not entirely a big surprise, but having students involved, particularly these students, was. Though, to be honest, it was perhaps not Harry Potter or even Mr. Weasley that surprised him so much as it was Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger.
"Mr. Potter," the headmaster called gently to the distracted boy. "Would you please give us an idea as to what has happened?"
Fisting his hands in his robes, Harry replied ever more gently, "Hermione, sir. Hermione saved us from the troll."
Shocked, both professors gave a slight jerk. Of all the possible answers that they may have expected, this was not one of them. Intrigued, but more apprehensive, both men stayed silent as their minds whirled with possibilities and consequences. Observing the three boys in front of them, both wizards wisely kept their speculations to themselves for now.
"Could you please elaborate for me, Mr. Potter? How was it that the four of you came across the mountain troll at all?"
"Well," and here the boy slid a guilty glance to his friend. "We, uh, that is to say Ron and I, noticed Hermione wasn't at the Gryffindor table when Professor Quirrell announced the troll and so…. we came to warn her?"
Honed from years of practice, not that one really needed any skill to pick up the guilt and omissions, Severus Snape sneered at the headmaster's new golden boy of the generation. Never had he witnessed any behavior that would suggest the two Gryffindors before him would take any such risk or effort for their fellow house-mate. In fact, it was highly likely that the two boys were responsible for the girl's injury in the first place, especially considering the kind of father Potter had and the Twin-Terrors the Weasley boy has as brothers.
"That was very brave of you, my boy," Albus nodded contemplatively. Glancing at Ronald Weasley, Albus smiled genially before settling his eyes on the young Draco Malfoy. A curious expression replaced the headmaster's face and he queried, "And you, Mr. Malfoy? How did you find yourself in these particular circumstances?"
"Perhaps," the head of Slytherin spoke while stepping forward, effectively shielding Draco from the headmaster's eyes. "It would not be remiss if we all took a trip down to the infirmary first." Anticipating Albus's objections, Severus continued. "We could retrieve the full story from Ms. Granger while Madame Pomfrey takes a look at Mr. Potter and company," he advised, knowing full well that the Madame would allow no such thing.
Catching Harry's eyes moving down the corridor, Albus took in the appearances of his first-years, all who appeared to still be somewhat in shock. Displeased with the situation, he nodded and swept his robes behind him and took to follow his transfiguration professor down towards the infirmary.
It might be best to wait for Miss Granger to awake for the full story in the end. Especially if one of Severus's own was in the picture. That man was perhaps even fiercer in protecting his own snakes than Minerva was with her own cubs after all.
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Poppy Pomfrey never ceased to be amazed at the amount of trouble children could get into at a magical institution that allowed them to roam free. But truly, this perhaps beat all the other atrocities by far.
A troll? In Hogwarts? Why she never!
Honestly, the girl gave her a fright. This might very well be one of the most violent cases out of all her patients during her post at Hogwarts. Magical injuries tended to be much cleaner more often than not, at least magical injuries of the preparatory school kind (they were, of course, usually a touch more complicated and no less dangerous or severe than physical injuries). The wizarding world was hardly ever physical and the closest contact injury would be perhaps quidditch. It was a miracle that the girl survived! For a first-year to take a beating by a fully-grown mountain troll? Really, how terrifying the thought was, that perhaps just a little further to the left, or any deeper the blow, Hermione Granger may not have been with them now. As it was, the girl must have unconsciously shielded herself in some extremely effective way to have made it. A curious and perhaps worrying observation.
Mending the last of her bones and having taken care of all the most fatal wounds, the nurse parted the curtains to retrieve her potions. The poor dear was in for a world of hurt when she woke.
"How is she, Poppy?"
Not pausing in her stride, the matron replied, "She'll make it. Fortunately, you made it here with her on time. Usually with injuries like these, I wouldn't suggest moving, but you made the correct call in getting her attention as soon as possible and did a fine job in immobilizing her first." Placing a hand on the back of her friend's shoulder in support, she added softly in passing, "You did good, Minerva."
Letting out a shuddering breath, Minerva held back the tears that threatened to spill. "I told Albus that it wasn't a good idea to hide it here!"
"Hush, Minerva. It does no one any good now."
Pursing her lips, the aged professor sank into the cot besides the small first-year, watching as her friend fluttered besides her.
"Not two months, Poppy," she whispered. "Not two months, and one of our own children nearly died today. The war that we fought so hard to never let these children see, are we going to be bringing it to them now?"
Neither woman answered the soft, sad question.
She didn't know how long she sat there watching her friend work, but she soon heard the footfalls of those approaching the infirmary. Likely, Poppy did as well, but she did not look up from her patient until they stepped into her ward.
"Albus!"
"Good to see you again so soon, Minerva, if not for the unfortunate circumstances," he began. "Good evening, Madame Pomfrey. I was wondering if you'd be so kind as to take a look at our boys here for a moment," and so saying, the headmaster pushed forth two stiff Gryffindors towards the matron.
"Oh! Well let's see here."
Rushing to her newest patients, Poppy quickly scanned all three boys in the room before pushing them all to be seated on one cot opposite of where the resident transfiguration professor was currently standing from her seat. Immediately, regardless of their mental state, the boys scooted as far as possible from each other on the cot to the right of Miss Granger, Gryffindors to one side and Slytherin to the other. Shaking her head at the trivialities of the young, she turned on her heels to grab three small bottles of light blue-grey potion before heading back to hand one to each boy.
"It's nothing serious," she reported to the professors at large as she kneeled to heal the few cuts and bruises marring their skin. "Just mainly shock and a few scrapes here and there."
They all waited in silence, watching as Madam Pomfrey worked her magic.
"How is Miss Granger?"
Surprisingly, it was one Severus Snape who asked the question. Ignoring the shocked expressions on everyone's faces, even or especially his god-son's, the Head of Slytherin looked steadily at Madam Pomfrey for an answer.
"She was a close call, but she'll make it through the night."
There was a collective breath of relief from all three boys on the cot, before all three glared at each other and scooted further away into their respective corners.
"I was hoping that Miss Granger would be able to help shed some light on tonight's events."
"Don't you dare, Albus Dumbledore! That girl just suffered major injuries and endured massive healing- she'll do nothing but rest and recover until I say so!"
Holding his hands out in a placating gesture, Dumbledore responded, "Of course, Madame Pomfrey. As it should be. I was merely inquiring as to when that may be."
Leveling a suspicious glare at the old wizard, the healer crossed her arms and stiffly replied, "When she is good and ready, and not a moment before."
Nodding, as if expecting the answer, he conceded. "Would you be so kind as to send word to my office when she is?"
"I will," she sniffed. "Now I bid you all good night. The children will stay overnight so I can monitor them."
"Of course. Good night Madame Pomfrey."
"Good night."
And as all and one filed out the medical ward, thoughts deep and troubled, not one wizard or witch was alert enough to catch the meaningful, warning stare Severus Snape imparted on Draco Malfoy.
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AN: Happy Rosh Hashanah!
