Harry Potter: The Alchemists' Quest

by The Ferryman

The cards have been redealt but the game is the same, and the only thing on the line is the future of the world. A Shade stalks the corridors of learning, shadows gather on the horizon. A prelude to approaching war. Hufflepuff Harry, Year 1, post-Downfall

12. Chapter 12: Troll

Chapter 12: Trolls

"…from the great heavy faces of them, and their size, and the shape of their legs, not to mention their language, which was not drawing-room fashion at all…"
J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

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Harry had quickly lost track of time. There were classes and schoolwork, quidditch practice three nights a week, meals and of course sleep. There was cleaning the school as ordered by Thrace—being seen by Malfoy, Cornfoot, and, perhaps unsurprisingly, Zacharais Smith (Harry's dorm-mate was rapidly making himself unpopular) once or twice a week was mostly sufficient to convince the school of his 'year-long detention'—and some mandatory exploration of the Sett, burrows, and more common secret passages.

Then there were the non-secret parts of Hogwarts which were worth exploring as well. The library was so large that if Harry could have picked up Number 4 Privet Drive, he could have hidden it (and Numbers 3 and 5 as well) inside of the library with room to spare. The Clock Tower was a giant working clock that ran on magic with stairs and passages that ran through (and in some cases were part of) the movement. The Astronomy Tower was the tallest—odd, since Allie had reported looking down over the top of it from the Headmaster's Office window—but one level down was a room with a charmed ceiling that could show the night sky from anywhere on Earth at any time of the day.

And then there had been the cleaning of the Tower of Turmoil. Even at Number 4 he had never cleaned so much, and that was just the non-magical parts. Tonks simply waved her wand and vanished the ruined furniture, but disposing of the not-so-small flock of clogged-up half-feral free-flying feathered-dusters that Cedric had found and let fly free for a day was another matter entirely.

The Tower had seven levels from the lowest of the laboratory rooms, to the library in the observation deck. By late October only the library and two of the lower levels could truly be considered clean. The Circle Room, as it was being called, had such a thick layer of grime under the compost—which Professor Sprout loved but was at a loss to explain where it had come from—that they had despaired of ever getting it clean.

Finally Cedric and Tonks had decided enough was enough. Over two days supplies began to pile up in the library. There were wooden casks that were taller than Harry and that any two of the first years working together could not put their arms around, and a pair of large nets filled with feral stiff extra-bristling bristle brushes that simply had to have been brought in through the observatory roof though Harry hadn't seen either arrive. The first night, Tonks and Cedric—with Harry along as a lookout—had flown around the tower sealing each of the doors and windows.

The next night Cedric produced an unbelievably large hose which he and Harry uncoiled in the library while Tonks took the other end down and flew in a window left open in the castle.

"Fourth floor?" Harry asked Cedric.

"Prefects Bath," Cedric explained as he dropped the other end down the iron staircase. "She got the password from Thrace. Something about a bet to be the first to visit every room and have photographic evidence."

Hot water began to gush out of the hose.

With just the one hose Harry thought it'd take days, or at the very least hours, to fill the tower. It didn't take much more than ten minutes, however, for the water to reach the top of the staircase that led down from the Circle Room. When the water level reached up to the fourth step of the spiral staircase a few minute later, Cedric indicated it was time to open the first keg. The older boy used his wand to levitate it in the general direction of the stairs, but mostly he used magic to nullify its weight while Harry directed it into place.

Harry quickly discovered, much to Cedric's amusement, that no weight did not mean no mass, and thus rediscovered the principal known as inertia by almost taking a bath. Fortunately he caught himself on the stairs and was able to struggle back up them. He and Cedric finally got the keg into place and Cedric used his wand to pop out the bung.

A purple potion flowed forth from the barrel, splashed across the stairs, and began to foam on contact with the water. With experience from the first the remaining kegs were easier to pour into the Circle Room. This was followed by a large chest of flakes that Cedric claimed were 'nutrients'.

With the water level nearing the floor of the library Cedric went to the open observatory window and threw up sparks. There was a soft wail, and then the ghostly piper picked up a quick piece that had Harry tapping his foot as he and Cedric rolled up the hose.

Tonks appeared shortly after to help, and then they had to dump both nets of bristle brushes in. Harry was certain that his hand got bitten, but all he had to show for it were three extra-shiny fingernails.

A week later an absolutely massive thunderstorm hit and the three of them, under the guise of 'teaching Harry to fly in heavy weather', roped themselves together and set off with their brooms. They undid the seals that the two older students had placed on the doors days before, and foaming white water and scores of thrashing bristle brushes gushed from the tower.

Tonks followed them down and began transfiguring the bristle brushes into frogs, while Cedric charmed all of the doors and windows wide open.

Finished, they returned to find Madam Pomfrey and Professor Sprout waiting for them in the Entrance Hall. Professor Sprout applauded their 'dedication' but firmly said 'no more', while Pomfrey muttered dark things of which only the word 'quidditch' was firmly heard and poured goblets of pepperup potion down their throats.

For three days the thunderstorm stuck around. Sometimes it stopped to only drizzled, but other times it lashed the school so hard that even the piper was driven inside where he was heard to sing—Snape had threatened to curse away his pipes if he played them inside the school—about the 'land of the kilt and sporran' and how he wished 'the wind was warm' to the tune of 'Scotland, the Brave.'

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Even when the cleaning was done the time was quickly taken over by planning Operation Buttercup. It took Padma and Ernie, plus some unwitting help from Neville, nearly a week to find the combination of charms needed for Professor Sprout's—subject Streeler—gift, and the less said about Shrake's cauldron the better.

They couldn't even find the charms for an animated mouse, and the three they tried blew up, burned, or tore itself apart. Three days before Halloween Allie had owl-ordered a custom-made animated mouse that was the size of a dog—perfect for a lion—and fur colored the McGonagall Clan tartan that Ernie had found.

Tonks and Padma had put their heads together for Fwooper, the Head of Ravenclaw, and both had steadfastly refused to tell anyone what it was.

And then there was—

So perhaps it was understandable that Harry found himself in Charms on Halloween, having completely forgotten that today they were going to learn to levitate objects. Professor Flitwick paired them up and passed out feathers.

"Now remember," he told his Harry's class. "Use that nice wrist movement we have been practicing. Swish and flick. Remember to roll your wrist so that it is all one nice movement, swish-flick, and remember that the pronouncing the words properly is important too. Never forget the lesson that Wizard Baruffio who said 's' instead of 'f' and so ended up with a bison on his chest."

Harry found himself paired up with Susan and both swished and flicked without result.

At the desks nearby Ernie flailed his arm like a windmill and shouted, nearly managing to take off Professor Flitwick's head as he moved between desks to offer advice and encouragement.

"Not so much energy, Mr. Macmillan. A simple swish and flick will do," Flitwick said as Harry and Susan turned to observe. "Let's try it together, shall we? Swish and flick. Again. Swish and flick. Good. Now try adding the words."

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Ernie shouted.

"Very nearly!" Flitwick cried, seeming to levitate himself without the use of magic. "Try it again, make the 'gar' nice and long and you might try 'levi-oh-sa' instead of 'levi-ō-sa'."

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Ernie shouted again without avail.

"Let me try," Justin said. He pointed his wand at the feather for a moment, fixing it in his mind or trying to calm his nerves Harry couldn't tell, then— "Wingardium Leviosa!" he said in an intense but hushed voice, almost as though he breathed every fiber of his being into it.

The feather twitched, then, slowly, so very slowly, it rose into the air under the direction of Justin's wand.

"Well done, Mr. Finch-Fletchley," Flitwick said in a soft voice that mirrored the intensity with which Justin was fixing on the feather, now hovering near the ceiling. "Very well done indeed. Five points to Hufflepuff…and now you can relax a little. This is magic, not work."

Justin grinned and some of the tension left the set of his shoulders. He gave his wand a little flick and the feather bounced in the air.

"It's a kind of magic," the muggle-born softly half-sang as he began to float the feather around the room in time with the song.

"Precisely, Mr. Finch-Fletchley," Flitwick said with a pleased nod. "Precisely."

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Harry had never cared for Halloween. At the Dursleys he was locked in his cupboard while Dudley got to go out Trick-or-Treating. His Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, convinced he would steal the candy meant for the other neighborhood children, didn't even allow him to stand at the door and hand out mars bars even though it meant that they had to do it themselves. He was never allowed to dress up, and Dudley frequently went as a pirate or a knight and would spend the days before and after the 31st whacking Harry with his plastic sword until it broke after which he would be sent to his cupboard for 'being an ungrateful brat and breaking sweet little Dinky Diddydum's toys.'

So he would sit in his cupboard, close enough to hear the other children call 'trick-or-treat' while his Aunt Petunia—usually Uncle Vernon would follow Dudley in the car—handed out candy. The only things for him to do, really, were to imagine what he would dress up as if he were allowed to go trick-or-treating…and reflect on just why he couldn't.

This year, knowing that they weren't drunk wastrels on the dole—which would normally be a good thing—but had instead been murdered by a dark wizard who had tried and failed to kill Harry (which took from the good part slightly), had its own problems. So instead of reflecting on the tenth anniversary of his parents' deaths, he had taken to worrying about their first real prank.

"Relax, Harry, it'll be fine," Justin said as they walked across the Entrance Hall.

"It's not about…that," Harry said. "It's just…Halloween has never been a good day for me."

Justin's eyes widened slightly and his gaze drifted up slightly towards Harry's forehead. "Yeah…I guess I can understand that."

"It's not even that, not all the time," Harry said. "It's just—" the doors of the Great Hall were coming up and while he liked Justin he really didn't want to talk about his home life. Especially since the Dursleys tried to be pathetically 'normal' while Justin's were both extremely well off and more normal than the Dursleys could ever hope to be. "It's just complicated," he finished as they entered the hall.

Then there was nothing further to say. Carved pumpkins sat on the tables filled with balls of green fire. More carved pumpkins hovered in the air and thick flocks of bats, like small black clouds, flew around the Great Hall. A group of ghostly musicians sat in one corner and played soft, eerie music. A large tub of water stood before the High Table, near where the Sorting Hats' stool had been for the Sorting Feast, in it floated hundreds of apples.

As they sat Harry noted that Professor Quirrel wasn't in his seat, but Hagrid had a place at the end and waved to Harry.

Once everyone was seated Professor Dumbledore stood and struck his crystal goblet with a spoon which produced a single, high, musical chime that hung in the hall for what seemed like half of forever.

In the distance the Clock Tower began to strike.

Dumbledore paused with his spoon in mid-air as the Clock Tower struck again and again until it had spoken of the twelfth hour.

"It can't possibly be midnight yet," Susan muttered. Several other students were also looking around uneasily, Harry noticed, but most hadn't noticed, held spell-bound by the feast.

Tap, tap, tap

It was Justin who had suggested the midnight hour and having a courier deliver the letter, but they didn't have anyone who could play the part without being noticed for their absence from the feast. Tonks, however, had remembered scraps of a particularly creepy muggle poem that her father had recited once in an attempt to scare her. It had only taken a few hours with the Complete Concordance of Beings Animalculous in Muggle Verse—borrowed from the Muggle Studies classroom—to find the complete copy of the poem.

Harry's eyes flicked to one of the fireplaces that lined the walls and kept the Great Hall well-lit and toasty warm even in what was already looking to be an amazingly cold winter. And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

As if merely thinking the words had triggered a spell—they hadn't, but he had practiced the timing so much that it seemed that way—the fires in the fireplaces guttered then went out, leaving only glowing coals. This was followed by most of the floating candles likewise extinguishing themselves, but the pumpkins remained untouched. The Great Hall was plunged into a ruby-like glow from the embers in the fireplaces reflecting off the marble floor, and sickly green glow from the pumpkins whose carved mouths cast jagged shadows across the hall.

Tap, tap, tap

The curtains, the purple curtains, over the high windows along the walls of the Great Hall rustled and Harry felt his heart began to beat faster as he glanced around the hall.

Tap, tap, tap

It was a clever collection of mild anxiety charms, some Suggestion, minor gusts of air, and a very mild fear spell, all working together, all timed off the particular sound of a goblet being struck with a spoon. Tonks, Harry decided as he experienced the planned effects at last, was a very scary person when she put her mind to it.

Tap, tap, tap

Harry stood suddenly, his face schooled into a wooden expression that, like the timing, he had spent a great deal of time practicing.

"Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"T'is some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door, some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;" Harry said this out loud as he slowly crossed the Great Hall to the door. "This it is and nothing more."

He reached the door and called out. "Sir, or Madame, truly your forgiveness I implore; but the fact is I was napping, and so gently you can rapping and so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, that I scarce was sure I heard you," here Harry opened wide the door

He peered out into the dark hall and grinned. Showtime. "Lenore?" he asked

The charmed Entrance Hall echoed back "Lenore!" so forcefully it rippled through the Great Hall.

"Harry," Dumbledore said again.

Harry pulled the doors closed. "Darkness there and nothing more." He reported. "Merely this and nothing more." He turned back to his seat.

As he prepared to sit down the tapping returned, somewhat louder than before.

Tap, tap, tap

"Surely," said Harry, "Surely that is something at my window lattice; let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore. Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; 'T is the wind and nothing more!"

Dumbledore's face was a study in ruddy light and deep shadows, but Harry caught a twinkle in the man's eyes as he turned towards the window.

A flick of his wand snapped the curtains on the left-hand side of the Hall's windows open. It wasn't his magic, but once more delay-activated charms and he had practiced to get the timing right.

It wasn't quite perfect timing. The idea was to plant confusion. If he had cast the spell, whether on his own or under a compulsion, the timing would have been exact.

A little imperfection made it seem all the more real. Like he was under a minor compulsion to walk around and spout a few lines and wave his wand in the air, but still obvious that he wasn't actually doing the spells. And if he had been on it, then presumably he'd have time enough to have practiced so that the timing was perfect. That nearly-perfect-but-not-quite timing was its own sort of perfection, the sort of perfection that the Chaos Lords had set as a goal for themselves and that if successful, nobody would recognize for what it was.

That was, at least, the idea.

A second flick snapped all the windows open and thunder boomed outside.

It had been impossible to find a way to make lightning flash across the ceiling of the Great Hall. Instead Ernie had bulk-ordered flash-cubes for a wizarding camera, and a half-dozen spelled to go off one after the other produced a reasonably realistic flash if seen indirectly.

A raven stepped onto the window ledge, then a single flap of its wings sent it sailing across the room to the doors where it perched upon the bust of Pallas on a wooden beam just above the Great Halls doors. That particular ornament they had been unable to find in any of the owl-order catalogs unless they wanted one that moved and talked. Justin had sent home to his father for it, and Harry had had all sorts of fun imagining Uncle Vernon if he had seen it and knew how much it cost. Cedric and Tonks had put it in on the same night they had arranged the presents for the Heads of House and it had hidden behind a glamour until now.

"Though they crest be shorn and shaven, thou," Harry said, "art sure no craven; ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore tell me what they lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"

A letter fell from the raven's beak and fluttered once or twice before landing on the stone floor. Then the bird cocked its head at Harry and made reply. "Nevermore."

Harry flicked his wand twice as the windows closed and curtains returned to their places. He then slowly crossed to the letter and picked it up while watching the bird which didn't move. After a while he muttered, his voice echoing in the dark Great Hall, "Other friends have flown before. On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before."

"Nevermore."

Harry looked at the bird again.

"Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry turned to his Headmaster. "Doubtless," he said crossing the room to him, "what it utters is its only stock and store. Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore. Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore of 'Never—nevermore.'"

He handed Dumbledore the letter. It was a thick vellum envelope with an intricate wax seal binding it closed that Padma and Parvati had designed at the same time they scripted the Introduction. Harry returned to his seat while Dumbledore examined the envelope.

"Harry?" Susan asked.

"Hmm?" he asked.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," he said. "Why?"

"Because," she gestured to the door, then the window, then the raven on its bust of Pallas. "What was all that?"

"Oh," Harry said. "I suppose something came over me."

Justin, who was sitting on Harry's left, thumped him on the thigh.

Dumbledore slit the seal and opened the envelope.

The few lights in the Great Hall dimmed.

Above them twenty foot-tall shadowy figures, that would have been quite scary if not for the fact that each wore a fully-illuminated eye-blistering tie-dyed cloak, appeared. Before them was a wide bank of windows through which they peered. It was just possible to look past the figures to see a view of Hogwarts from some place that was quite high up

It was a complex illusion, or it would have been if they had gone that route. Instead, Tonks and Allie had recorded an actual scene using wizard camera to capture a score of images, and then magiked them together into a single image that a charm had trapped in a parchment until it was released. So instead of a hand-crafted illusion, it was merely a projection of another image, a far simpler feat to accomplish.

Depending on where one was sitting there were anywhere from six to twenty figures, and while an image of Hogwarts from one of its towers was splayed across one wall so that they looked down at it, the image was Hogwarts seen from no less than seven different towers, depending on where one was sitting.

Then, as one, dozens of voices spoke as one—actually recordings distorted and then blended seamlessly together. Likewise, heavily distorted individual voices were used for the individual speakers as the robed figures moved.

The High Lords of Chaos
From their Tower of Turmoil
Looked down on fair Hogwarts…
And quickly recoiled.

For in her great halls
Where magic was taught
Things were not going
At all as they ought.

The Professors so stern
The students so glum
It did not look at all
Like they were having much fun

The First of their Order
To his brethren did spake
And he sayest: 'my friends
Why doest the walls not shiver and shake?

'Where are the laughs?
The chuckles and snorts
At Snape's bright blue hair
And McGonagall's new warts?

There was not much light in the hall, but there were enough pumpkins on the High Table or hovering over it to see that Professor Snape's hair was now a different color, and Professor McGonagall now had additional shadows on her face that she hadn't moments before.

'Where is the fun in
Note-taking and tests?
Why are there no pranks
Witty jokes or fast jests?'

'Mine confusion is great'
(Such was how they spoke)
Chief Confuser confided,
'There is no joy in learning by rote'

While all of them agreed
With the Confusor's words.
None spoke save the Second Straight-man
But he was quite clearly heard.

The Straight-man he sayest
'How they have forgotten,
That life is too serious
To be seriously taken.'

"My Straight-man is right,'
The First Fool did add.
'Besides there's a fine feast
Waiting to be had.'

'We ourselves must go
Take the situation in hand,'
The Master of Mayhem said
Before revealing his plan.

'Chief Mascot and Prophet
We send before it's begun
He shall be known as
The Poltergeist of Pranks Yet To Come

We sendeth our Agent
(The one most Absurd),
And Herald of Hysterics
To spread forth the word.

'The Harbinger of Havoc next
(I shall come fourth),
Then Dean of the Decoys
And Major of Mirth.

'I will add two more to this
Collection of chaos
Ridiculous Rex and his
Ludicrous Lieutenant.

'Eight is great plenty
To loose on Hogwarts' fair halls
But just wait and see,
We shall add more to the rolls.'

'Bravo, Great Master'
All of them said.
'Whither thou goest
None sleeps soundly in bed

'No Prefect Patrols
Shall pass by unpranked
No junior agents of chaos
Shall continue unthanked.

'No more shall the students
Stumble by in their lives
For we foresee laughs,
Grins and bright eyes.

'Nor the Professors
Set in their ways
Live without caution
For the rest of their days'

'But Master of Mayhem?'
Asked the Senior-most Secretary of the Silly and Strange
'With what great practical prank
Shall you reveal the change?'

'A General Decree of Intent,
Announced by surprise.
Then a recitation of these minutes
By this shall they know what we shall supply.

'Next some other changes
I believe are in order
A change of color
Will first spread disorder

Everyone's black robes began to…change, though the dim colored light only hinted at how as the recording continued.

Green, I have found,
Is quite nice with gold
While silver and blue
Is never too old.

Bright yellow shall brighten
The bronze in one house
While bright scarlet and black
Suffice for those quiet as a mouse

'Now all of these robes
Should be bright and easy to spot,
Such as striped or with zigzags
Or large polka-dots.

'As to these uniforms
What do you think?'
Spake the Herald of Hysterics
'I'd like them trimmed with a really bright pink!'

'But what of the Professors,
The Headmaster and staff?'
Agent of the Absurd
Quickly spoke up and asked.

'As for the staff,
Bright colors all
Without any respect
For position or House

'To show their fair judgment,
Towards students all
I think', spake the Master
'Calls for an application of rainbow pastels!'

'Oh, wise Master of Mayhem
I know you mean well,
But perhaps the Profs should have a token
Before we raise living—'

"Yes, Minister of Mirth
I see what you mean
A token for each Head of House
And for the Headmaster the same.

'For the Esteemed Head
Of Gryffindor House
I declare and bequeath
An animated mouse

A mouse sized for a lion—or roughly the same size as a medium-sized dog—appeared lying on McGonagall's plate.

'As For Professor Snape,
I think it would be most grand
A brand new potion cauldron
One charmed to talk back

'For the Professor of Plants,
Badgers, hard work, and toil
A new potted plant that
Replants potted plant pots by itself,

"Watch where you are poking that," a voice that was remarkably similar to Professor Snape's said as the Potions Master examined the cauldron before him. Professor Sprout, in contrast to the first two, seemed quite happy with the meter-high potted plant that had appeared before her.

'For feisty little Flitwick
A book, I should think,
Yes, The Codex of One-Thousand
and One Improbable Pranks.

'And lastly, for the Headmaster
On his office tower's door
A door-chime that sings songs
For hour upon hour.'

Flitwick opened the book that was nearly as large as he was, read the inside, and quickly closed it. Dumbledore, meanwhile, examined his plate but found nothing.

'Oh Master of Mayhem'
Spoke the Duke of Disorder at last
'You plan rightly and well,
But do no forget the mistakes of the past

'Pranks are for fun
And enjoyment of all
But taken too far
Quickly become cruel

'Remember the Rules
That govern the Prank
The Riddle, the Skeer
The Jest, Poke, and Crank'

'Indeed your Gracelessness,
These five things I shall,
For upon those that break them
Terrible Doom™ does befall'

'Master of Mayhem
First of our Order'
Spoke the Principle Punster
'I regret that you are now in disorder

'For the Greatness of Your Wisdom
The Breadth of you Plan
Of the Hilarious vision you hold
And the Rules you understand

'A new Chaos Rank.
I bid thee to laugh or cry, but keep mum
No longer mere Master and First Lord
But now Prince of Pandemonium.

'For your head the propeller beanie
Your first new symbol of station
A new magic 8-ball
And yellow rubber chicken'

Then spakest the new Prince
To all of his brethren
'Is there any further business
To be undertaken?'

'Nay' they all spake
'Your directives have been given
Our mission understood
No more is needed.'

The First Lord of Chaos
The Prince of Pandemonium
The Master of Mayhem
Looked down at Fair Hogwarts

And Spake.

The loose rhyming chant that had carried throughout this was broken as one figure turned towards everyone in the hall. Hands with long, spidery fingers, one set a pallid white, the other as dark as night, emerged from voluminous sleeves and pulled back the tie-dyed hood of the cloak. As it slipped back, the hood revealed a mask that evenly split Comedy twisted into an insane smile on one side, with Tragedy gripped by a crushing despair on the other.

A low, haunting hiss cackled through the Great Hall. The Professors all quietly checked their wands. Many of the students did the same. Everyone, including the ghosts, trembled slightly.

'Exccelleeent'

The figures disappeared and letters began to quickly be typed out across the long wall that had previously held the vista of Hogwarts, accompanied by a loud banging as from an infernal typewriter:

THIS DOCUMENT HAS BEEN AUTHORIZED FOR RELEASE BY:

.
FIRST LORD OF THE HIGH LORDS OF CHAOS
PRINCE OF PANDEMONIUM
MASTER OF MAYHEM
(HIS SEAL)

A hand quickly scrawled Janus over the 'FIRST LORD', and a burning brand appeared to impress a seal of the same twisted Comedy/Tragedy mask below, before all the letters were shredded into burning butterflies that burst into the air through the Great Hall. More butterflies burst from the envelope that Dumbledore had opened until it too disappeared.

There was a roar as the fireplaces relit. Candles burst alight and the pumpkins resumed their cheerfully green glow. Above the door of the Great Hall, the Raven and the bust of Pallas had disappeared.

Throughout the hall the students looked down to examine striped, zigzagged, and polka-dotted robes. The Gryffindors in green and gold with a large stylized 'G' on the front, while the Slytherins had blue and silver with equally large 'S'. The Ravenclaws wore yellow and bronze, while the Hufflepuffs looked vaguely sinister in scarlet and black, both sets of robes adorned with the letters 'R' and 'H' respectively. Almost as quickly as they had examined themselves they stopped and looked to the Professors who, indeed, had pastel-toned robes that were shaded all the colors of the rainbow.

In a show of unity, the robes of both professors and students were trimmed with an eye-blistering pink.

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Almost casually Albus sat down, his customary short speech forgotten, and with some trepidation, rang his glass again to signal the beginning of the feast proper.

"She did this, Albus," Minerva seethed softly.

Albus frowned slightly, "Ms. Thorne?" he hazard.

"She did this," Minerva repeated, gesturing to the dog-sized mouse. "I just know it."

"Don't be absurd," Albus said. "You yourself know she hasn't the talent for it."

"So she had help. For all I know she enlisted the Weasleys and custom-ordered the mouse and the rest, but she did this."

"I have to agree with Albus on this one, Minerva," Filius said. "This book is charmed with another, I am certain of it. Whatever is written in that book will appear in this one. It cannot be used to trace back to the other. Linked books are expensive. I can't begin to calculate the cost of a pair that can't be traced. In both cases it requires the work of a charms student that is much more talented than she is, no matter what technical knowledge she may or may not possess.

"Where is your doorbell, Albus?"

"Alas, I fear it may have gotten lost in the post," Albus said.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Filius said. "I have five galleons that say it can be found at the door of your office."

"I haven't had any students up there in days," Albus demurred. "Not since Ms. Thorne."

"Blackthorn, Albus," Filius chided gently. "Respect must be given if we are to expect it in return."

"Yes, Filius, thank you," Albus said absently. "Minerva, Severus, did either of you notice—"

"We followed her quite closely, Professor," Severus said. "I saw nothing."

"Nor I," Minerva allowed. "But—"

"Then it is likely she had nothing to do with this. Complex illusions, the charms required to change everyone's robes, perhaps some sort of displacement charm on your gifts—"

"Whoever put that compulsion charm on Potter," Severus said thinly.

"Compulsion? You really think so, Severus?" Minerva asked him.

"Harry had limited knowledge of our world before Ms. Thorne introduced him to it," Albus said. "By now she could certainly have his Name, or some fingernail clippings or hairs; more than enough for someone…of her talents to remotely control a person who is unsuspecting, at least for a little while."

"I understand the process, but you think she could be that far advanced? I know she is powerful enough that once she…has a grip, but to actually acquire it in the first place? More likely that Harry was in on it."

"Muggle poetry?" Severus asked with a curled lip. "Yank, muggle poetry? I doubt he ever heard of it, much less spent the time to memorize it."

"You've heard of it," Minerva noted.

Severus looked as if he had bit something sour. "If Potter's mother had survived, perhaps he would have heard it," he said frostily. "No, Minerva, he wasn't in on it."

"But he could have been," Sprout said, entering the conversation for the first time.

"No, he could not have been," Severus said. "The timing of the wand movements was off. If he could have been bothered to be in on it, he could have easily managed the few simple charms necessary to spell aside curtains and open windows. Especially if he did have an expert charms student to assist, as the illusion and book suggest. No, the curtains and windows were delayed-activation charms and the timing was off. Amateurish."

"How so?" Minerva asked.

"A contingency charm would have been better," Filius said. "One set to go off with flicks of Mr. Potter's wand. No actual magic on his part would have been necessary to do, but the effect would have appeared like he had done it without the slight misses in timing."

"Would he have had the skill to do it though, Filius?" Dumbledore asked gently.

"Exactly my point, with a contingency spell he wouldn't have needed to," Filius said. "As far as the windows go, learning to open them isn't a difficult piece of magic. If he had been in on it then whoever had done the charms for all of the rest would have been more than skilled enough to teach him how to perform it. No. Mostly likely he was under a very mild compulsion charm and it broke with the rest of the spell. Poppy can examine him, but I doubt we'll find anything."

"Perhaps you are right," Albus said. "Poppy, can you take a look at Harry, just to be safe?"

She nodded. "I wanted to schedule an exam anyway, but unless he is in danger I'm not going to tell you anything, Albus."

"I never presumed you would," he said mildly to which the nurse snorted.

"I suppose our next thought must be who is a member," Albus said after a moment.

"At least one member in my N.E.W.T. class," Filius said. "The book requires a derivation, possibly one custom-made by the enchanter, of the Protean charm. I suppose a fifth year might be able to cast it, Mister Lucas-Hanson probably could have in his fifth year but he left two years ago. I don't think any of the current lot are up to it, though if Ms. Granger continues at her current pace she might in another four years or so.

"And those robes? I know a potion can be used to deliver a charm. They're complex to brew, but use the imbiber's magic instead of the caster's, and so there is a limited niche for them. There is, however, no way, none at all," he said flatly, "that it could have been timed that accurately unless I am very much mistaken. Severus?"

"Timing the potion is simple in the extreme," Severus said flatly. "Especially easy in comparison to a potion that affects what the imbiber is wearing instead of the imbiber him-, or her-, self. Assuming one had both the necessary talent and supplies to brew such a potion. It would be tying it to an uncontrollable variable—in this case tapping your goblet, Headmaster—that would have proved impossible."

"Which means that it must be a charm, something placed on the benches and designed to slide onto the robes," Filius concluded. "Factor in timing variables with the fact that they couldn't possibly have known how many students were going to sit on each bench—"

"It isn't hard to determine approximately how many—"

"Approximately wouldn't be enough, Minerva," Filius said flatly. "To throw up an illusion or other glamour, to make it appear to the eye that the robes have been changed, it would be. But examine your robes, Albus. You will find that the colors have been quite indubitably altered.

"For that to work accuracy is a must. The more variables the more difficult the charm becomes. Unlike the windows it probably was a contingency spell set to trigger at specific points in that poem. Adding a contingency spell would have been complicated, but at least it would have taken care of the timing issue.

"I'll even grant you that it probably would have been fine with a little leeway. But to charm that many without any of the charms sliding off because they weren't placed in sufficient strength, and no damage to robes from charms placed in too great a strength? Look around the Hall, Albus, Minerva. Not one robe is black or damaged in any way."

"Do you have any idea who—"

"None at all, Albus," Filius said. "If you asked me a half-hour ago I would have said that none of my students could do it. I will tell you this. It is someone who is very skilled, very powerful, and was probably pranked severely last year. That bit about pranksters not going unthanked? That sounded an awful lot like a threat to me, Albus."

\|/\|/\|/

Harry looked down at his robes which were striped horizontally with red and black zigzags except where there was a circle where the colors were reversed. The effect, in the flickering lighting, made his eyes sort of slide away until he reached the garishly pink hem of a sleeve.

"Who do you think they are?"

He looked up to find Susan looking at him intently.

"Pardon?" Harry asked.

"The High Lords of Chaos, who do you think they are?"

"Probably some older students that the Weasley twins pranked really bad last year and decided to have a bit of a go," Harry said.

"What was it like, walking around and talking like that?" Ernie asked on cue.

"I can't say as I really remember," Harry said. "Wish I could have seen it."

"There'll be more," Hannah said. "My friend Katie, she's in Gryffindor in the year ahead of us, says that once pranking starts it sort of feeds on it. I just hope they don't do anything too disruptive."

Harry started to reply when the doors at the end of the hall were thrown open and Professor Quirrel ran into the Great Hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. "Troll!" he shouted as he sprinted down the hall, "in the dungeons." He stopped, holding himself up on the Head Table as he gasped for breath. "Thought you ought to know," he told Dumbledore before slipping to the ground in a dead faint.

Harry looked at Ernie and mouthed "troll?" as the hall exploded into an uproar.

Ernie shrugged slightly and looked at Justin who shook his head.

A rippling explosion from a dozen purple firecrackers, conjured by Professor Dumbledore, silenced the din.

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

Harry caught Cedric by the sleeve of the older boy's robe as Eric Bryce began to gather together the first years. "Do you—"

"No, did you?" returned Cedric.

Harry shook his head. "Any idea how?"

Cedric frowned. "Trolls are pretty stupid. But one finding its way into Hogwarts and getting lost in the dungeons? I can understand getting lost, but in the first place, how does one get in? And second, why the dungeons?"

"And why today?" Harry added. "After what we did."

"Harry?" Bryce called.

"I'm going with Cedric," Harry said.

Bryce frowned at him but Cedric shook his head.

"We'll be right after you," he told the Prefect.

"All right then," Bryce said.

"We'll stay with them," added Justin, "safety in numbers."

Bryce didn't look happy about it, but he nodded in agreement.

"Wotcher, Harry. This your doing?" Tonks asked, slipping into step next to Cedric.

"A troll?" Harry asked. "Really?"

"Well…okay," the older girl allowed. "I suppose it was pretty far out."

"We were just thinking about what one would be doing in the dungeons," Cedric said.

"Eh," Tonks said. "Snape probably ordered it for potion ingredients and it got loose."

Harry stopped in mid-step.

"Wha—Harry," Tonks said, as she practically ran into him. "I have a hard enough time without you trying to trip me up on purpose."

"Say that again," Harry said.

"What? That I have a hard enough time—"

"No, the part about Snape."

"Oh," Tonks shrugged. "He likes to render his own ingredients, so it was probably ordered as live for ingredients and simply got loose."

"Someone brought it into the castle," Harry said.

"Isn't that what I just said?" she asked.

"Why would—"

"The dungeons, Ernie," Harry said. He turned to Cedric and Tonks. "While the staff goes down to the dungeons there won't be anyone watching the left-hand corridor on the third floor."

Tonks said a very rude word while Cedric looked uncertain. "I don't know… I mean, we don't even know what's in there."

"Something that someone probably broke into Gringotts to try and steal before it was brought here," Harry said, briefly explaining about Diagon Alley and meeting Hagrid.

"Okay," Cedric said slowly. "You may be right. So we tell Professor Sprout and—"

"Harry!"

Harry turned to find Parvati crossing the Entrance Hall towards them, dragging Ron by his ear.

"Parvati?" He asked. "Ron?" the Gryffindor had dropped by the Hufflepuff table for the occasional meal, but Harry had been so busy cleaning the tower, and working on the prank, and quidditch, and all the rest that he hadn't seen much of him.

"Tell him about what you told Hermione," Parvati ordered.

"Geroff," Ron said, pulling away and rubbing at his sore ear.

"Ron made fun of Hermione because she corrected him when he tried to levitate his feather earlier today," Parvati explained in a rush. "She wasn't in classes all afternoon and Lavender said she was crying in the girls' bathroom and—"

"Parvati," Harry said, cutting her off. "Stop and take a breath." When she had done this he nodded. "Okay, now, Hermione. What's wrong?"

"Harry, she doesn't know about the troll," Parvati said.

"Which bathroom?" Cedric asked immediately.

"The one on this floor, just off the Picture Gallery," Parvati said quickly.

While many, indeed most, of Hogwarts' walls were covered in pictures, there was a single long hall called the Picture Gallery. It had portraits of many of Hogwarts' most famous alumni. Some of its paintings were so large that they were taller than Hagrid and much, much wider than they were tall.

"Okay," Harry said. "Parvati, you go to Gryffindor tower. Tell whoever your Prefect is—do your first years have a Prefect assigned to you?—or Percy Weasley what you told me. Tell him I'm taking Ron to get Hermione and we'll all go to the Hufflepuff common room since its closest. Justin, Ernie, you go tell Bryce so that he knows what we're doing."

"I suppose that leave us to watch the corridor," Tonks grimaced.

"I'll do that," Cedric said decisively. "Tonks, you'd better tell the Professors…at least about—Hermione was it?"

Parvati nodded and quickly left to rejoin the Gryffindors.

"Why me?" Ron asked as Harry dragged him in the direction of a side-corridor.

"Because Hermione's in your house," Harry said.

"So?"

Harry started to reply, decided he didn't have a really good explanation as to why it was necessary for Ron to come alone other than it was the right thing to do. Instead he said, "Aren't you Gryffindors supposed to be a brave lot?"

Ron glowered but they heard footsteps behind them before he could reply. "Percy!" he hissed, dragging Harry behind a large stone griffin.

But it wasn't Percy, it was Professor Snape.

"Why is he down here instead of down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?" Harry asked.

"Search me," Ron muttered.

Quietly as possible they crept away from Snape's fading footsteps.

Harry paused to listen for a moment. "He's heading for the third floor," he whispered.

"So?"

Harry shook his head. He didn't have time to explain to Ron about his suspicions about how a troll had gotten into the dungeons or the possibly link between the job Professor Dumbledore had asked Hagrid to do, the forbidden corridor, and the Gringotts break-in.

"Never mind," he said, "let's just find Hermione and—"

Ron held up a hand. "Do you smell something?" he asked.

Harry sniffed and wrinkled his nose as he smelled something like a combination of Dudley's old socks and the type of public toilet that it seems like no one ever bothers to clean. And then he heard it as well—a low grunting and the shuffling of giant feet. Ron pointed, and at the end of the passageway on the left, something moved.

Something huge. Something that was moving towards them.

Harry pulled Ron back into a small recess behind one of the rib-like archways that were every fifteen or twenty feet in this particular passage and they watched as it emerged into a square of moonlight cast by one of the high windows on the left-hand side.

It was a horrible sight. As tall as Hagrid and maybe a foot or two taller, with lumpy skin that was a dull granite-grey. Its lumpy body was like an oblong boulder perched on a pair of very short, extremely thick tree trunk-like legs that ended in flat feet as broad as a serving platter and had thick horn-like nails. Arms that dangled nearly to the floor emerged from the body near the top, and a head about the size of a bowling ball was perched on top. The troll dragged a club behind it that was nearly as long as Ron was tall.

Harry gagged and breathed through his mouth, trying not to be sick at the incredible smell coming from it.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside it. It wiggled its long ears, making up its peanut-sized mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

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

"Good idea," Ron said nervously.

Neither moved.

"Well?" Ron asked.

"I'm waiting for you," Harry said. "You?"

"I was waiting on you," Ron admitted. "On three?"

Harry nodded. When Ron didn't begin counting he took a deep breath, immediately regretted it, and choked out "Three."

They shuffled down the corridor towards the open door. Harry and Ron traded looks, and the Gryffindor was just screwing up his courage when a high, petrified scream rent the air.

"Oh, no," said Ron, doing a fair impression of the Bloody Baron.

"It's the girls' bathroom!" Harry gasped.

"Hermione!" they said together.

Ron hesitated, but Harry charged right in.

Hermione Granger was cowering against the wall opposite, looking as if she were about to faint. The troll was advancing on her. As it went it stopped to knock each sink off the walls, though whether it was doing it because it was a terrifying thing to behold, or just general destructive-mindedness, Harry couldn't tell.

"Distract it!" Harry told Ron as he seized up a broken tap. There were no windows and the mirrors were too close—he threw it against the wall furthest from the door and Hermione.

The troll stopped lumbering towards Hermione. It slowly shuffled around, blinking its tiny eyes rapidly as its ears shifted this way and that as though it could track the source of a sound that was already gone. Its mean little eyes came to rest on Harry, and it began to lumber towards the Hufflepuff.

Harry wished desperately that the room had windows and dawn was near, but the room didn't and dawn wasn't, and he wasn't even sure if trolls really did turn to stone in daylight like in that one book he had read when Aunt Petunia made him clean—but never play in—Dudley's second bedroom. Water was gushing from the pipes of broken sinks and shattered toilets. The stalls had all been knocked down, and some of the tiling had been shattered. If there was any good news to be had, it was that the chamber was a little too low and a little too narrow for the troll to use its club to its full effect.

"Oy, pea-brain!" Ron yelled from the other side of the bathroom. He threw a metal pipe from one of the sinks.

The troll didn't seem to notice the pipe hitting it in the shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout toward Ron instead and giving Harry the time to run around it.

"Come on, Hermione, run, run!" Harry shouted at Hermione, trying to pull her towards the door. But she either would not or could not move. She was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror.

The shouting and the echoes were driving the troll wild. It roared again and started towards Ron, who was the closest to it and now had no way to escape.

Harry jerked out his wand, panic and fear and no time to really think about what he was doing giving his magic an edge that it had lacked in class. "Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted with rather less swish and flick than Flitwick had taught…and without doing one thing that Flitwick had told them was critical for the spell.

In his haste, Harry had completely forgot that he needed to specify what he was casting the levitating charm on.

Everything that wasn't firmly attached to the floor or one of the walls, or held by one of the students or troll, found its way into the air. Bits of porcelain from shattered sinks and toilets, lumber from smashed stalls, water-logged bog rolls and soggy towels, broken pipes, shards of mirror… The ruins of the girls' bathroom hovered into the air, and a sharp gesture of Harry's wand flung them at the troll.

Some, most really, of the debris missed. Several towels smacked wetly into the walls and stayed there as though plastered on. Porcelain shattered as it hit something hard, and Harry felt something score his forehead and then blood began to drip into his right eye, nearly blinding it. Ron was mostly protected by how close the troll was, and Hermione seemed to escape untouched by the same sort of insane luck that had generated the spell in the first place.

But even as most of it missed, a lot of it did hit. The troll squealed in pain as its thick hide was cut by the jagged edges of broken tiles, and several knife-like pieces of mirror ended up embedded in it. Metal pipes and broken taps rained down against it, and one shoulder—well, the troll didn't actually have shoulders but where a shoulder should have been—was hit by a nearly-intact toilet flying nearly as fast as Harry was, by this point, routinely flying during quidditch practice.

Howling with pain and blind from a towel plastered over its eyes, the troll twisted around and flailed with his club. Despite there not being enough room for it to get up a really good swing the troll still left a larger-than-head-sized hole in one wall.

But it was enough distraction for Ron to get around the troll, and together the two boys were able to pull the second Gryffindor away from the wall and get her moving towards the door as the troll pawed at its face.

They reached the door—at which point Hermione rediscovered the use of her legs—just as it succeeded in getting rid of the towel.

The three ran. Not in the direction of the Hufflepuff common room, they didn't have any direction other than away from the troll. It was just about as bad a reaction as they could have had since trolls, being not very bright, were largely governed by instinctive reactions, and the instinctive reaction of a predator—which the troll was, just not a very good one—was to give chase.

They barreled down the passage, then a second. The troll, despite its short stubby legs, proved to be quite fast enough to keep up with them. Harry grabbed Ron and Hermione, planning to make a break at the next cross-corridor, but two figures stepped out of it first.

\|/\|/\|/

Professor Sprout was so surprised at the sight of a full-grown mountain troll barreling at her as it chased after three students with its club raised high that she froze in shock. But a month and a half of quidditch practices, more than a month spent magically cleaning the Tower of Turmoil, not to mention working on their prank, had firmly convinced Tonks that if there was any trouble to be had it would find Harry.

It was the only explanation she had for a rider with not an hour of broom-time had managed to not only get into an inverted maple-seed twirl, but recover from it before he could become very, very squishy.

She whipped out her wand even as the troll began to swing his club down and shouted "Harry!"

\|/\|/\|/

Harry saw Tonks whip her wand up.

"Harry!" she shouted as something purple and burning buzzed by his ear close enough for him to feel a tingle of magic from it.

There wasn't time to look behind him and Professor Sprout was right ahead—

He barreled into the tubby little witch, his momentum enough to knock them both to the floor as the troll's club smashed down where she had stood a moment before.

Harry rolled to the side as Tonks threw a cloud of flame into the troll's face which seemed to do a little more than annoy it.

"Locomotor mortis!" he snapped at the troll. They had briefly talked about the leg-locker charm in Defense Against the Dark Arts but hadn't really gotten around to learning it yet, but he couldn't think of anything better.

Something may have flickered between his wand and the troll, it was hard to be sure in the dark corridor, but if it did it had no effect.

"Hey, ugly!" Ron shouted at the troll that was advancing on Tonks while Professor Sprout scrabbled for her wand that had been knocked from her hand when Harry had crashed into her. He shot sparks from his wand that, normally, wouldn't have even managed to grab the troll's attention. But they slapped against the troll's wounded back and it let out a roar of pain and turned to face Ron.

Harry wiped at the blood covering his eye. He couldn't see anything around to levitate and the one other spell he had tried hadn't work and, try as he might, he couldn't think of a way that turning matchsticks into needles would help. Without any better ideas he screwed up his face as he glared at the troll's limp, matted hair and tried to remember what it was like lighting the candle in Allie's flat. Then, because he wasn't holding what he wanted to set on fire and it seemed the right thing to do, he whispered, "burn."

The thick, choking stench of burning rancid grease filled the corridor as the troll's matted hair smoldered…then burst into flame.

The troll roared in pain. Tonks flicked another spell at it, but the troll was moving to wildly and a jet of lurid blue magic caromed off the ceiling, nearly hitting Hermione.

The Gryffindor girl whipped her wand at the troll and cried something and bluebell-colored flames poured across its body.

Professor Sprout had her wand back, but Ron, dodging the flaming troll, got in the way.

The troll spotted him, apparently decided that taking someone with it was enough, and raised its club.

Ron moved his wand, calling up the first spell he could think of. "Wingardium Leviosa."

The club was jerked right out of the troll's upraised hands.

Surprised at his continuance of life and the success of the spell surprised Ron so much that he forgot to maintain the spell, which dropped the club on the troll's head.

"Move," Professor Sprout ordered, grabbing the back of Ron's robes and jerking him out of the way as the troll fell to the ground. She jabbed her wand at the troll and reeled off a rapid succession of spells, putting out the fire, banishing the bluebell flames, and making sure the troll remained down.

"Did I…is it…dead?" Ron asked.

"No, Mr. Weasley," Professor Sprout said. "Just unconscious. Faerie Fire, Ms. Granger?"

"I…I thought they would distract it," Hermione said.

There were loud footsteps from the side passage and then Professors McGonagall burst into the corridor, followed closely by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, made a faint whimpering sound, and sat down on a nearby bench clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was staring at Harry and Ron with white lips.

"What on earth were you thinking?" Professor McGonagall demanded with cold fury in her voice. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitories?"

Professor Sprout scowled at Snape before turning to Professor McGonagall. "Now, Minerva—"

"No," McGonagall said coldly. "You will not 'now, Minerva' me on this, Pomona."

"Mr. Potter is my student—"

"And Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley are mine," McGonagall snapped.

"Professor," Harry said, freezing as both turned to him.

Professor Sprout shook herself slightly and nodded to Harry. Her expression wasn't its usual cheery self, but it was far better than the look on Professor McGonagall's face, so Harry tried to ignore the Transfiguration Mistress as he dabbed at the blood with the sleeve of his robe.

Before he could continue, Hermione unexpectedly spoke up. "It was my fault."

"It wasn't anyone's fault," Harry protested before she could continue. "Parvati and Ron came up to me in the Great Hall and said that Hermione hadn't come to the feast. That she, er, hadn't been feeling well. So Tonks offered to go get you, Professor Sprout, and Parvati was going to tell the Gryffindor Prefect, and Ernie and Justin were going to go tell Eric Bryce who's our Prefect. Ron and I were just going to go get Hermione and I was going to take them back to the Hufflepuff common room since it's closest until…until you caught the troll and it was safe."

"And then?" Professor Sprout prodded.

"And then we got to the girls' bathroom where Hermione was just as the troll was going in," Harry said. "Ron and I went in and distracted it—"

"He was awesome," Ron said enthusiastically. "He levitated nearly every broken piece of…well, everything and flung it at the troll."

Professor McGonagall's lips grew even whiter as Ron spoke.

"And then we got out and…ran," Harry finished.

"Not in the direction of the Hufflepuff commons," Professor Sprout said.

"We were more interested in getting away," Harry admitted. "And I remember how…strange the campfire was. I don't think there would have been time if Hermione or Ron had hesitated and…well…" he shrugged helplessly

"I don't think any of them can be faulted for doing anything wrong, Minerva," Professor Sprout said. "There are things that could have been done better, perhaps, but we did leave the Great Hall in a hurry."

Professor McGonagall did not look at all happy with this, but she nodded tersely.

"There is something I would like to know," Snape said suddenly. "And that is what is so engrossing about a conversation between first years that a seventh year was listening in."

Tonks hesitated, "Well I wasn't, not really."

"Indeed?" Snape asked, raising and eyebrow.

"Professor Sprout assigned Potter a bunch of extra work because of that thing with riding a broom when he wasn't supposed to," Tonks said, falling back on what had become something of a joke in the Hufflepuff common room. "I've offered to help him with some of his studies because of how little time he has and because it's a good review of basic material for the N.E.W.T.s"

"How very…Slytherin of you," Snape sneered.

"Five points to Hufflepuff, each, for Ms. Tonks and Mr. Potter for proper thinking and an upstanding show of loyalty to one's friends," Professor Sprout said. "And another five to Gryffindor for Mr. Weasley's outstanding display of bravery and quick wand-work."

Snape looked like he had tasted something sour, but McGonagall nodded as some of the color returned to her lips.

"The other students are finishing the feast in their Houses," McGonagall said. "Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."

The others followed close behind him. As soon as they had turned the corner away from the hall Tonks broke away, telling him that she'd see him in the common room, leaving Harry to walk with Ron and Hermione.

"Harry?"

Harry turned to look at Hermione and was surprised to find her offering him his wand. He couldn't remember losing it.

"Why?" the girl asked after a moment.

"Do you have to ask?" Harry asked, not sure how anyone reasonable would have left another person alone and unaware when there was a troll about.

"No, I mean, why did you stop me?" Hermione asked. "When I was getting ready to tell Professor McGonagall…well…you know," she shrugged lightly and refused to look at him.

"Oh," Harry said with a shrug. "I guess I really didn't see the point in you trying to take the blame just because Ron was being mean to you."

"Hey!"

"Why?" Harry asked, ignoring Ron. "What were you going to say?"

"Oh," Hermione blushed. "I was going to say that I thought I could deal with it since I had, you know, read all about trolls."

Harry looked at her askance. "Seriously?"

Hermione nodded. "Seems kind of foolish, doesn't it?"

"Just a little," Harry admitted. "Anyway, as I said, I didn't see a point. Besides, Parvati and Ernie both told prefects in Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. They didn't know anything about your insane quest to slay a troll, so I thought it best that it didn't become obvious that you fibbed to McGonagall when she checked whatever story you were going to tell."

"Oh," Hermione said. "Thank you, um…how did you—" she gestured to Ron.

"'Vati dragged me over to Harry by my ear," Ron said, his ears starting to redden.

"You do know that she doesn't like to be called 'Vati', don't you?" Hermione asked. "Well," she said before Ron could reply, "I suppose I owe her a thank you too."

"Look, Harry," Ron said suddenly, but then hesitated for a moment before saying, "The password to the Fat Lady is currently Pig Snout, not that you heard it from us. Just in case, right?"

"Hufflepuff is…if you go down the corridor opposite the main entrance in the Entrance Hall there's a flight of stairs," Harry said. "Go down them, past a giant still-life of fruit, there is a painting of a campsite in the woods with a campfire in the middle. If you walk into the painting you can find Hufflepuff. No password required."

"But how does that keep people out?" Hermione asked.

"People don't expect it," Harry shrugged. "If they can find it they assume there's a password…and even those that walk into the painting can't always get into Hufflepuff, some get lost until the Prefects or Professor Sprout can lead them back to the hallway. Just remember to keep walking towards the campfire and you'll come through fine."

Somewhere in the distance the Clock Tower began to chime.

"I have to go," Harry said. "I'll see you both around?"

They nodded in agreement and the trio went their separate ways.

\|/\|/\|/

"…I'm telling you, Albus, I've never seen anything like it," Pomona Sprout was telling the Headmaster as they stood over the still form of the unconscious troll. "He just said 'burn' and it did, started burning I mean."

"Channeled magic?" Minerva asked. "That is how it is done, after all. Words and wand-motions help to make effects repeatable. And, of course, the more often a single spell is performed the easier it is which is why some of the first spells we teach are among the most common and the oldest."

"'Burn' is neither," Severus said shortly.

"I am aware of that, Severus," Minerva said tartly. "We all knew that Mister Potter—"

"You aren't listening to me, Minerva," Pomona cut her off. "He didn't have his wand. He lost it when he knocked me out of the wall of the troll's club."

"Are you saying he used deliberate wandless magic, Pomona?" Minerva asked incredulously. "We expected great things, yes, but this is an eleven year old boy you're talking about. An accidental discharge is believable, if only barely considering how Hogwarts damps that kind of thing. But to do wandless magic deliberately…" she shook her head.

"I don't think he realized that he dropped his wand, Minerva," Pomona said. "He tried a leg-locker first, failed, obviously. After that…" she shrugged.