The following morning did, indeed, suck. They were no worse for wear, and reflected positively on their escapade. Malfoy was so shocked to see that Mary and Ron hadn't been thrown out of Hogwarts, it was almost worth the fatigue. Almost. Hermione wouldn't even look at them in class and refused to speak to them in open discussions, but they considered that a bonus.

During Transfiguration, Dean passed a note to Mary asking, "How did you get Hermione to ignore you? Inquiring minds need to know!"

Mary's inquiring mind needed to know what those small creatures were, the other night, picking up the loose silverware Peeves dropped in the corridor.

"Those were brownies," Ron told her, one evening in their common room. "They live around strong concentrations of magic, and if they feel welcome, they take care of little things for you."

"Well that's nice!" said Mary. "Do all magical families have them?"

"No, not unless it's a large household with lots of young mages."

"Or engineers," said Lily, taking one of the few open cushions.

"Or that," Ron agreed. "We're kinda wasteful with our magic, since we're learning how to use it. Engineers are always trying to combine magic and Muggle technology, and half the time it doesn't work, so brownies collect the magic."

"What happens if they don't collect it?" Mary asked.

"It evaporates," Lily replied. "Kinda like water and rain barrels."

Some of Mary's neighbors on Privet Drive used those, but Aunt Petunia thought they were too much work and unsanitary.

"So they live in the castle?" she asked.

"In spaces between spaces," said Ron.

"And they can leave whenever they want? Will they leave if they stop getting magic?"

"That depends," said Lily. "Some large estates starve them of magic if they want them to go away. Those are the people who call them 'gremlins'. Some estates find a way to trap them, so they can't leave if they want to."

"That's awful! It's illegal, isn't it?"

Ron looked uncomfortable. "It's frowned upon, but not illegal. Mum worked for the Ministry until I was born. She was part of a committee that advocated for the 'equitable treatment of magical creatures'. Families like the Malfoys bankrolled lobbies against them, and she went on hiatus after they lost a big case."

Lily nodded. "So if you hear them talking about owning a 'house elf'…"

Both of Lily's parents were lawyers with the Ministry. They did what they could for Ministry committees, but they were also public defense lawyers. It took up a lot of their time, which was one of the reasons Lily attended Hogwarts.

"I never thought about that," Mary confessed. "I was just happy to get away from my my family."

She blushed and explained that her aunt and uncle seemed to resent her for existing, and her cousin was unbearably spoiled. She didn't need to tell Lily about her parents, but she did ask if Lily was a common name.

"I think it became popular after your parents died," Lily said, wincing at the indelicacy of her words. Mary shrugged it off. "My proper name is Lilibet, for my great-grandmother, and I have a cousin named Petunia who goes by 'Patty'."

Mary laughed at the idea of someone calling her Aunt Petunia Patty.

"Nasty common name," she'd probably say.

The week following the ill-fated midnight duel passed without incident, until a large parcel arrived for Mary with the mid-day post. An enormous eagle hawk delivered it during lunch, and Mary looked for a note before picking it up.

DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight at seven o'clock for your first detention.

Professor M. McGonagall

"What is that?" Seamus asked, admiring the box.

"Nothing," said Mary, collecting it before anyone could touch. She sighed for affect and said, "Just material for my detention, tonight." She waved the note for emphasis.

Her fellow Gryffindors gave her sympathetic looks, while Malfoy was near enough to hear and gloat. She pretended she didn't see him, and couldn't wait to wipe that look off his face with her first quidditch victory. She just needed to learn how to play the game, first. Easy enough. Even if she didn't win, she was on the team, and that was better than his lot.

Once again, Mary struggled to focus on lessons, the rest of the day. Her mind kept wandering to the Nimbus Two Thousand hiding under her bed, which made her smile and daydream. She did her best to appear subdued during supper, especially since word of her detention had spread. At least half the school decided that she'd be mucking stables for Hagrid. That didn't sound like a terrible punishment. If it were anything like she'd seen assigned to Fred and George for their detention, it could be fun. They told her about a small herd of orphaned hind fawns that Hagrid had recently received.

"Used to just be the females they called hinds," George explained, "but it became a sort of shorthand for all winged deer."

"Hagrid says they're too young to fly, yet, so we took that as a challenge," said Fred, raising the feed bin above his head so the fawns had to flitter around to get to their food. "Think he'd let us use them as an opener for our quidditch matches?"

At six-thirty, Mary grabbed her broomstick, box and all, and solemnly carried it down the spiral staircase and through the Gryffindor common room.

"Psst!" Ron whispered before she reached the portrait hole. "Think I could join you?"

Fred and George didn't ask. They stood at her shoulders and announced their departure for detention, giving Ron a subtle sign that he should stay put. Mary felt a twinge of guilt for it. She'd really wanted to give him a go on the broom before her lesson.

"Will anyone think it's weird if they notice us going to the pitch?" Mary asked.

"Nah," Fred assured her. "They'll just think we're getting it ready for the season."

"That's something we do, anyway," said George, "even if we don't have detention."

"Do you have detention, tonight?"

"Nope!"

"But it makes for a good cover story," said Fred.

"For me, or are you two up to something?"

Instead of answering her question, they told her about seasonal setup and teardown. Rows of tiered benches were arranged in high risers so spectators could watch the action, which needed uncovering, and on each end of the field were three poles with hoops on the top, which were cleaned of seasonal and wildlife debris. The goal posts reminded Mary of bubble wands that she'd seen children play with, and found herself wondering if they'd put these fifty-foot high hoops to such mundane use.

Oliver was already there, waiting at center field with a large wooden crate.

"I wasn't planning on a demonstration," he warned the twins.

"Not a problem," said Fred.

"We just wanted to make sure Mary got here without any trouble."

"You had no interest in seeing her Nimbus Two Thousand," Oliver said, pointedly.

They hastily denied such a claim, then stood back and waited for Mary to unbox her new acquisition. She sighed, feeling slightly used, and opened the box. The broom was cushioned in a roll of packaging paper and sheathed in satin. She pulled the drawstring and let the satchel drop to the ground. All four Gryffindors sighed in appreciation.

Mary's only experience with broomsticks was the one flying lesson with Madam Hooch, but she knew that this was something special. The body was made of mahogany with Nimbus Two Thousand embossed in the handle. The brush was gathered into a long bundle of smooth, neat twigs.

"Have any of you ridden one of these?" Mary asked.

They shook their heads, marveling at the sight in her hands. She handed it to Oliver for inspection, and he accepted it reverently. In under a minute, the boys assessed the broom, comparing it to the best they'd ever ridden, what they'd had to work with in past matches, and the benefits Mary could expect from starting off with such a superior model.

Oliver handed the broom back and said, "Give it a try."

Feeling only momentary self-consciousness, Mary kicked off and flew straight to the goals. She passed through the center hoop and spun around to loop through a second one. She shot up from that hoop and swung herself into a barrel roll to thread the third hoop, and traced the center post in a loose corkscrew to the ground. She leveled out, shot back to center field, and dismounted gracefully before her teammates.

"What do you think?" Fred asked.

Oliver's grin filled Mary with a sense of pride she'd never felt before.

"I think this is going to be a very good year for Gryffindor," he said.

Mary handed her broom to the twins and followed Oliver to the wooden crate. He opened it to reveal four balls of different sizes.

"We're just going to go over the rules tonight, and you'll be joining us for practice three times a week. Will that be all right with your schedule?"

Mary nodded.

"Excellent. Now, each team has seven players, and three of them are called Chasers."

"Three Chasers."

Oliver lifted a bright red ball from the chest, roughly the size of a football. "This is the Quaffle. The Chasers work together to maintain possession of the Quaffle and earn ten points every time they throw it through one of the hoops."

"That sounds like basketball on broomsticks," said Mary.

"It's a little like that," Oliver agreed. "If basketball had a goalie. We call that position the Keeper – that's me."

"Three Chasers to score points with the Quaffle; one Keeper to guard the goals," Mary recited.

"Very good. Now, here's where it gets interesting. You're going to want one of these."

Oliver handed Mary a club that reminded her of a short cricket bat, and placed his hands over a set of buckles.

"I'm going to show you what the Bludgers do. Brace for impact."

Two sleek, black balls, slightly smaller than the Quaffle, appeared to be straining against their restraints. Oliver pressed the release on one of the Bludgers and it launched itself at Mary's face. She immediately side-stepped and knocked the ball off course. It followed through in its momentum and locked onto a flying Weasley. He seemed to have been expecting this, as he matched the Bludger's speed and intercepted it.

"Two Beaters prevent the Bludgers from killing us," said a stunned Mary.

"Basically," said Oliver. "But the other team can redirect them to hit their opponents."

"How lovely."

"As you can see," said Oliver, accepting the Bludger from George and wrestling it back into the crate, "we have two very competent Beaters to keep us safe."

"Has anyone been killed by one of these?"

"Not at Hogwarts," said George. "A few broken bones and minor concussions, but Madam Pomfrey can fix those in no time."

"She isn't really a fan of the sport, though," Oliver confided. "If she ran the league, we'd wear as much protective gear as hockey players."

"There's a magical hockey league?"

"Sort of," said Oliver. "But we have one more position to cover, here."

George flew back to Fred, and Oliver reached into the box for the last ball. It was slightly smaller than a golf ball, with a golden body and silver wings. He released it, and it fluttered in place. The display filled Mary with a sense of undefinable peace.

"This is the Golden Snitch, and it's the most important ball of the game."

Mary giggled. "That isn't a very nice name, is it?"

"A long time ago, they used an annoying little bird instead of an enchanted ball," Oliver explained. "After Newt Scamander wrote about how cruel the practice was, officials were forced to find an alternative."

"Well, that's good!"

"Focus, Mary."

"Golden Snitch. Very important."

Oliver nodded. "The referee releases it at the beginning of the match, and it's the Seeker's job – your job – to keep track of it. You catch this ball, and the game is over."

"How many points is it worth?" Mary asked.

"Twenty, and you must also keep track of the score. If you have a clear shot at the Snitch, but we're down several goals, you might not want to make a move. The other Seeker will also be watching you, so you don't want them to know if you've sighted it."

"So the game only ends when one of us catches the Snitch?" Mary asked. "How long do they last?"

"As long as they need to. Our matches rarely go longer than an afternoon, but the professional games can last for days." He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Weasleys!"

Both twins came soaring back on the Nimbus.

"I'm gonna take Mary up for some catching drills." He put the little ball back in its place and closed the trunk. "It's getting too dark to use the Snitch, so we'll just use bean bags."

Fred and George took their leave and bolted into the stands.

"What are they doing?" Mary asked.

"I don't want to know."

Over the next half hour, Oliver threw the bean bags in every direction for Mary to catch. Sometimes he threw with all his strength, and sometimes he'd casually toss it aside. He did his best to hide his intentions, but Mary caught every throw.

"If you don't mind, I'll store your broom with the rest of our equipment. It will be safe enough in our storage locker; the other teams have their own."

Mary did mind, but it would look suspicious if she was dragging that box out for "detention" three times a week.

On their way back to the castle, Oliver told her about past Gryffindor teams.

"Charlie was amazing. If his heart wasn't set on dealing with dragons, he could have played for the English national team. Meaning no pressure, I think you could be as good as him."

Far from feeling pressure, Mary was deliriously happy. If she never matched Charlie's skill, it was enough to be part of a team that believed in her.


Mary had been at Hogwarts for two months before she realized that she felt more at home in this school than she ever had at Privet Drive. Granted, school had always been more comfortable than her home life, but at Hogwarts, she belonged. With basics mastered, Mary no longer feared falling behind, or committing some horrendous blunder that small children knew to avoid.

Quidditch practice had been going well, even if the beginning was painful. Mary's arms felt ready to melt off of her body, slowly raking her every nerve in the process. The first couple of practices went well enough, but after falling off her broom from a considerable height, Oliver provided a list of cross-training options.

"You need to build your endurance," he explained. "No offense, but you don't have much upper-body strength."

"Rude!" Alicia Spinnet cried, dropping a Quaffle on his head.

He let the ball bounce once and caught it. "See? The chasers need core strength, so they can throw and intercept while staying balanced on their brooms. Beaters use some of the same cross-training, and usually participate in the tennis club." He tossed the ball to Mary, which nearly knocked her off her feet.

"Usually?" Mary asked, regaining her balance and holding the ball tightly until Angelina Johnson called for it.

Oliver pursed his lips and lowered his voice. "I don't know how those two gits cross-train," he said, pointing to Fred and George, "and I don't want to know. Lee once offered to tell me, so I could have a second string ready, but I don't want to be expelled by association."

Mary gave him a sympathetic smile and read the list. Tennis was all well and good for the Weasleys, but she was sure she couldn't hold a racket to save her life. One of the items was a beginner's self-defense class that she could take for credit. The timing even worked out for her schedule, but…

"Isn't it too late to enroll?"

"It's offered quarterly, rather than by semester," Oliver explained. "The academy students teach most of the classes, and attend when they have time. They're usually full – not too full for us to join; just full – so there's always somebody to help or spar with you."

"Or hide behind?"

"If you want, but you won't have Bludgers flying at you. I wouldn't recommend hiding behind teammates, anyway."

"You hide behind us all the time!" Angelina laughed, spiking the Quaffle at him.

He stilled it with a wave of his hand just short of his face.

"Charming," said Wood, throwing the ball at her head. She deftly caught it and continued running drills with her fellow Chasers.


On Halloween morning, Mary was feeling pretty good about her essay for History of Magic. While waiting for Professor Binns, Mary gave her essay to Sally-Anne, who handed her essay to Alberta Runcorn, who gave Mary her own essay to read. The three girls were surprised by how different their points were when they each came to a similar conclusion. Mary kicked herself for not including something Alberta cited, but Salley-Anne thought her argument was strong enough without it. Alberta felt better after Mary's lament, because she'd been thinking that very point had been a touch cheesy.

One benefit to having a ghost as a professor was how quickly he could grade assignments. While he read and marked, everyone worked on a new assignment, due by the end of class. Some students wished they could just leave and have at least a day to forget about what they'd written, but Mary preferred not worrying about the grade she would receive. She was happy with the B+ she'd earned, and thought she could use Professor Binns' feedback to improve her next essay. Ron had earned a C+, which he tried to appeal because he didn't agree with what the book said. Sally-Anne and Alberta both received an A, and Hermione was the only student to receive a perfect grade.

"Honestly, Ronald," Hermione said to him. "How can you think you know better than the book and someone who might have been there?"

"By not believing everything I'm told, like some good little–"

Mary quietly cast a charm that made him bite his tongue. Fred had taught it to her, in case she ever caught Ron saying something that might come back to bite him (and, potentially, the rest of them) later.

In Charms, a round of quiet cheers moved through the classroom when Professor Flitwick announced that they would begin learning levitation spells. Mary giggled, recalling various stories of her peers annoying their parents or guardians in their infancy, through random acts of levitation.

"My older cousins were basically nannies to us younger children," Parvati shared, one evening, in the Gryffindor common room. "Padma and I gave them the most trouble, sitting on high shelves and finding food we weren't allowed to eat."

"Everyone does that!" Lavender laughed.

"But not everybody has a twin! So they'd think they put us both to bed, only to find one of us playing in the family room, because they'd put the other to bed twice…"

Mary could only recall a time she was running from her cousin and his band of goons. They wanted to copy her homework, and telling them "no" had resulted in dire consequences. With nowhere to turn, she jumped with all her might and scrambled onto the roof of the school cafeteria. A couple janitors gave her a stern talking to when they found her up there, hours later, but understood her need to hide from bullies.

"It just isn't safe!" they explained, leading her down the roof staircase and through a dark custodial room, crowded with equipment. "How did you even find your way up there?"

Professor Flitwick scrawled key vocabulary on the chalkboard as he lectured.

"Today, you will only use the basic form – swish and flick!"

He performed the gesture with one hand, and unconsciously made a musical command with the other. Mary thought she'd like to try out for the choir, but she couldn't find the time, on top of evening Quidditch practice three times a week, fencing lessons in self-defense, and her ever-growing pile of homework.

"And be sure to enunciate!" the professor warned. "Instead of levitating that feather, you could find yourself on the floor with a buffalo on your chest."

That seemed a little extreme, but it illustrated the point. Other principles were more complicated, and Mary saw that she wasn't the only one struggling. She raised her hand and asked a question that she hoped would connect the points that she and her classmates were missing.

Hermione, ever present in the front row, turned in her seat and started reciting the text from their assigned reading. Mary was focused on her notes, drawing a diagram that she would fill in as Professor Flitwick answered her question.

When Mary looked up, she was startled to see that Hermione had been reciting directly at her. Once she, looking smug and superior, stopped talking, Mary pushed down a flare of irritation and calmly asked, "Have you never heard of a leading question?"

Even Neville smiled at that.

Hermione swung back around, back stiff as she scratched furiously at her own notes.

Several students quietly mouthed, "Thank you!" at Mary, and Professor Flitwick diagramed his answer.

Everyone was paired off for the practical portion of the class – Mary with Seamus and poor Ron with Hermione. They began calmly, imitating the motions and words with increasing vigor. By the end of class, Seamus had immolated their feather, which set fire to the corner of Mary's notes. She smothered the flame with her hat and requested a new feather. Ron wasn't fairing any better.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" he bellowed, his form no longer resembling Professor Flitwick's gentle swish-and-flick.

"Stop, stop, STOP!" cried Hermione. "You're going to put someone's eye out, and you're saying it all wrong. It's 'Wing-GAR-dium Levi-O-sa'; you don't run it all together with the same emphasis on every syllable."

"You do it then!" Ron snapped.

And so she did, simple as you please. Professor Flitwick applauded and awarded ten points to Gryffindor, but Hermione held no charm with her peers.

"She's a nightmare!" Ron seethed, after class, and proceeded to mimic her mid-class lecture as they made their way to the Great Hall.

Dean and Seamus laughed.

"Honestly!" Lavender agreed. "She must've noticed she hasn't got any friends."

Someone shoved between Mary and Dean, and they watched Hermione hurry down the hallway.

"I think she heard you," said Mary.

"She should try being a little nicer," Neville quietly said.


Scents of the Halloween banquet had been permeating the castle all day. Mary never forgot how little she enjoyed food with the Dursley's, and therefore never took a meal for granted. On this day, however, lunch was a bland disappointment in comparison to what they were anticipating for supper. Fred, George, and Lee spoke endlessly about the novelties they could expect from the feast, and even Percy weighed in with his favorites.

Hermione was nowhere to be seen, and Ron overheard Parvati telling Lavender that she'd seen her crying in the girls bathroom. Mary felt bad, but she was still annoyed with her for being an insufferable know-it-all. She must know that she's doing something wrong when even Neville had stopped trying to befriend her. Mary was doubly concerned when Hermione didn't show up for Potions, and annoyed when Snape deducted ten points for her unexcused absence.

"Cheap shot," Dean grumbled.

Mary wondered if Snape deducted the points to punish all of Gryffindor, or if he just found Hermione as insufferable as everyone else did and wanted to capitalize on punishing her. While she might agree with the professor's motivation, she would never sympathize with him.

All thoughts of Hermione fled Mary's mind when they entered the Great Hall for the Halloween banquet. Jack-o-lanterns floated overhead and a swarm of bats flittered around them. Mary wondered if they were real until she saw Hagrid, surrounded by students, feeding a few young bats out of his palm. She joined them to learn more about the little creatures, and felt a sulking pang when Hagrid told them not to touch.

"If one of the older ones lands on you, here's what you can feed them." He handed out leaflets and instructed them to share them with their tables. "And just because they land on you doesn't necessarily mean they want you to pet them, either."

"Kinda like a cat?" a Hufflepuff asked.

"Somethin' like that, yeah," Hagrid beamed. "In fact, if you look at their teeth, you'll notice that they have more in common with cats than rodents, even if they do look kinda like flying mice."

"How do they…" Mary started, then rethought her words. "I mean, with so many of them flying around in here, how do you prevent...you know…"

Several students laughed at her question, but they'd been wondering the same thing.

"Same charm we use to keep ya safe from owl droppings when they bring the post. You can learn about it in Care of Magical Creatures in your third year."

As though they'd been summoned, a flock of owls descended upon the hall to sit with their respective students. Hedwig settled on Mary's shoulder and she took that as a cue to find a place to sit. She set a copy of the bat diet guide in the center of the table just as the food appeared. Anyone who hadn't been seated scrambled to a placement to dig in.

Mary readied a plate for Hedwig before helping herself, and Sophie Roper – a fellow first-year Gryffindor that Mary still hadn't gotten to know – moved a few dishes around to make room for the owl and her meal.

"I wish my owl would join me for meals," Sophie told Mary. "He's way too independent, though, and always catches his own food."

"Does he ever bring you midnight snacks?" Lily asked.

"Yes!" Sophie exclaimed. "It took me a year to make him understand that I don't eat rodent! He sometimes brings me pine cones and fruit, though, so he's gotten a lot better."

Lavender laughed. "One of my cousins has a north Eurasian raven that used to steal things for her. The bird saw the money she was saving for a new broomstick and started adding to the pile. Her parents had to call a professional handler to stop that habit."

Mary was helping herself to a second serving of mashed potatoes when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, stopping at the High Table.

"Troll in the dungeons!" he screamed. "Thought you ought to know."

With that, he fell into a dead faint.

The uproar was immediate. Professor Dumbledore cast an amplification charm on himself and bellowed, "SILENCE!"

Everyone froze and obeyed.

In a tone befitting an assembly, he instructed, "Prefects, lead your Houses to the dormitories. Student Heads, please join your faculty Head at the High Table."

Percy began organizing Gryffindor, keeping younger students surrounded by the older. Students adept in Defense Against the Dark Arts arranged themselves around the assembled House, with two taking point next to Percy. That settled, he moved them out.

As they exited the Great Hall, Mary grabbed Ron's arm and pulled him aside.

"I just realized – Hermione doesn't know about the troll!"

Ron bit his lip and said, "Oh, all right, but Percy had better not catch us."

They hid their escape in a crowd of Hufflepuffs and made for the girls bathroom.

"How did a troll even get in here?" Mary asked.

"I don't know," said Ron. "The Forbidden Forest has a few of them, but they're supposed to be really stupid. Maybe Peeves let one in as a joke?"

An awful scent hit them before they saw it. A twelve-foot, lumbering figure stopped in front of a door and contemplated it for a moment. After making up its mind, it pushed the door open and entered the room. Mary and Ron rushed to barricade the door, but then realized that this was the bathroom that Parvati had said Hermione was in.

"Oh no!" Ron groaned.

"Of course that would happen," said Mary

"All right, game plan," said Ron. "You remember those defense spells I taught you for the duel Malfoy chickened out of?"

Mary nodded. "I think so. Are those strong enough to knock out a troll?"

Ron shrugged. "They'll have to be good enough."

The troll roared, and Hermione's scream compelled Mary and Ron to charge in. They both gagged on the smell, as though this restroom hadn't been cleaned in months. The olfactory shock wore off as they took in the scene. The troll was hammering on the door of the corner stall, no doubt the location of Hermione's last stand. The gifted witch was throwing out spells that Mary didn't recognize, but the troll shook them all off.

"Hey, ugly!" Ron shouted, as Mary stopped the club mid-swing with a holding charm.

The troll effortlessly broke the charm on its club, then lumbered towards the two of them. Mary assumed a horse-riding stance as Ron bolted to her right. They threw every charm they knew, which only seemed to annoy the troll. Meager as their abilities were, Mary could feel her energy draining fast. If something didn't give soon, she and Ron would be done for.

Mary saw the handle of a toilet plunger sticking out of utility cabinet, and decided to try something desperate.

"Wingardim leviosa!" she shouted, directing it up the troll's nose.

The troll dropped its club and clapped both hands over its nose with a howl. Ron directed the same charm at the club, and dropped it on the troll's head.

"Yes!" he cheered.

The troll fell over and didn't move. The three students froze and waited before making any sudden moves.

"Is it dead?" Hermione asked, slowly joining her peers.

"No," Mary said. "I can see it breathing. Nice shot, Ron!"

"Nice shot, yourself," he laughed. "Right up the bloody beast's nose!"

Still shaken, they all exchanged a relieved smile.

And then the professors arrived.

"What on Earth?" Professor McGonagall demanded. "What are you all doing in here?"

Professor Snape eyed the troll and cast a wordless charm, probably to keep it unconscious. Then he gave Mary a piercing look, causing her to observe the floor with great interest.

"Please, Professor," Hermione said in a small voice, stepping forward. "It's my fault."

"Explain."

Mary and Ron winced, wondering what the Head of Gryffindor would think of them, upsetting one of their own and ultimately putting her in danger.

"I went looking for the troll, because…I thought I could deal with it on my own."

Ron dropped his wand. Perfect Hermione Granger, lying to a teacher?

"If Mary and Ron hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. They didn't have time to fetch anyone. They used a charm we learned today to stun and knock the troll out."

Mary and Ron tried not to look incredulous.

"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall thundered, "how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

"Well, I'd read all about them, you know, so…" she trailed off lamely and looked at her shoes.

"In that case, ten points from Gryffindor for your foolishness. You may return to Gryffindor tower where your peers are enjoying the rest of the feast." Hermione hurried out and Professor McGonagall turned to Mary and Ron. "Not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll and lived to tell about it. You each earn Gryffindor five points, for dumb luck."

She dismissed them and they hurried to the common room.

"That was weird," Ron whispered.

"Weirder than Hermione losing twenty points, in a day?" Mary asked.

"I dunno," said Ron. "At least we cancelled out half of them. I think we should have gotten more than five points, though."

When they arrived in the common room, everyone was already eating, save for Hermione, who was waiting for them by the door.

They all exchanged an awkward thanks, and proceeded to fill their plates. She sat with Mary, the Weasleys, and Lee Jordan, then Ron began the story of their grand rescue. Hermione mostly stayed quiet, but she was their friend from that moment on.

There are some trials you can't overcome without bonding, and surviving the attack of a mountain troll was certainly one of them.