For the most part, Bella's third year at Hogwarts had proven to be rather uneventful. Sure, there was the Boy-Who-Lived, who Bella often caught staring at her from across the Great Hall. Harry Potter had ended up at Gryffindor, and while Bella was pleased for the boy whom she'd helped at Diagon Alley, he was no longer her responsibility. The older Gryffindors were there to guide him, and he'd made his own friends, she was sure. A tall ginger boy was hardly ever away from his side, one Bella assumed to be yet another Weasley.
Once, Bella heard his name again as a topic of discussion, when Harry somehow made his way onto the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, the youngest player in over a century. She hadn't seen him play yet, but she supposed he must've been good to get his spot on the team. Either that or Gryffindor were terribly desperate this year, which bode well for Slytherin and their chances of yet another Quidditch and House Cup.
No, things were terribly mundane at Hogwarts that year...at least, until Halloween.
The day started off normal enough. She'd gone up to the Great Hall for breakfast and found herself greeted with the standard birthday cupcake all students got while at Hogwarts, blowing out her lonely candle with a few sparse cheers from the Slytherins she shared her year with. Bella didn't have friends per se, though from no small effort of the other students. She was the prettiest and smartest girl in her year, and naturally friendly and kind whenever someone spoke to her—but Bella was also terribly quiet, and preferred her own company over anyone else's. It was better that way. She was always too busy for friends anyway, between her classes and schoolwork and all her personal research projects.
Bella had aspirations for a membership with the Dark Force Defence League, which meant she'd have to work hard to prove herself to them as more than a pretty little heiress. She had even grander designs to work through the ranks of the International Confederation of Wizards until she became the organisation's first female Head, and to use her accomplishments by then to campaign for Supreme Mugwump. The point was, the road ahead of her was long and exceptionally difficult for a witch of lesser skill and power than her—all Bella needed was an impeccable yet intimidating reputation, which she had carefully crafted, and the position of Head Girl to thoroughly impress her future employers. For this, she had no time for friends.
But she did have time for her cupcake. Bella made the same wish she made every year; I wish for nothing to get in my way the following year. She wasn't silly enough to believe in birthday wishes, but she knew the power of willing things into existence. The rest of the day moved on sluggishly. Her classes were all holiday themed, each of her professors—even Snape—wished her a happy birthday, and Flitwick (who was used to conducting for the school choir) went as far as to guide the whole class into singing it for her. At long last, the moment the whole school had been waiting for had arrived. This year's Halloween Feast was building up to be exceptional.
Bella had entered the hall to find a thousand live bats fluttering from the walls and ceiling. A thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the floating pumpkins stutter. Bella kept her hat on just in case, worried the bats will decide to paint her perfectly-set hair. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it always did. She helped herself to some lamb chops and mint sauce, cutting out neat little pieces to raise to her lips when Quivering Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and white hot terror upon his face.
The entire hall had shut up, staring openly as he reached Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll—in the dungeons—thought you ought to know."
He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.
There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.
"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"
Bella was already up and out of her seat, catching the elbow of the Slytherin head prefect, Warrington, "our dormitories are in the dungeons."
His pale blue eyes widened, and he nodded, rushing toward Dumbledore, "Professor! Professor! Slytherin's dormitories are in the dungeons!"
"Slytherins to the library!" he amended quickly, "off you go! Madam Pince, if you will—"
"Yes, yes of course, yes," the terrifying librarian gathered herself up to guide them.
"Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!" Bella rolled her eyes as the insufferable Gryffindor prefect barreled his way straight through the Slytherins.
She had been just about to follow the other Slytherins up another set of stairs to the library when she noticed two familiar Gryffindors peering around the statue of a large stone gryphon. Bella squinted her eyes, hanging back, waiting for the boys. After a few moments, they crept along the next corridor, and Bella followed a few paces behind them.
But then she smelled it. A mixture of old socks and the kind of public muggle toilet (she'd only experienced one at a camping grounds in Brazil for a Quidditch World Cup) no one seems to clean, the ammonia burning her nostrils. Bella perked her ears, listening keenly—a low grunting, the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. She surged forward, slipping her palms over both the boy's mouths, yanking them back into the shadows of a doorway just in time. She kept her palms over their mouths even as they looked up at her, her front pressed against their backs. Her eyes were locked on the looming figure as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.
It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite grey, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.
The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.
"Stay quiet," Bella warned the boys, pulling out her pale wand. She muttered under her breath, aiming her wand at the door as she performed a series of complicated loops, flicking hard to the left. The door slammed shut, locking magically with a resounding CLINK!
"Yes!" Harry whisper-yelled.
"What the devil do you two think you're doing, running off after a—"
Bella never got to finish her sentence, cut off by something that made her heart stop—a high, petrified scream—and it was coming from the chamber she had just locked.
"Oh, no," said the Weasley boy, pale as the Bloody Baron.
"It's the girls' bathroom!" Harry gasped.
The boys looked at each other, shouting at the same time, "Hermione!"
Bella's eyes widened. She didn't know who this Hermione was but she certainly wasn't going to be responsible for killing a first year.
The boys bolted first, but Bella was hot on their tails, her wand still at the ready as she whipped it at the door, "Alohomora!"
Harry yanked the door open and they ran inside. A tiny little girl was shrinking against the wall opposite, hair as big as a cloud, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went.
"Stay back!" Bella yelled back at the boys, "split up! Distract it!"
The boys ran to opposite directions of the bathroom while Bella levitated a sink tap, hurling it as hard as she could against the wall beside her. The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Harry. It hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it went.
"Oy, pea-brain!" yelled Weasley from the other side of the chamber, and he threw a metal pipe at it. The troll didn't even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout toward Weasley instead, giving Bella time to sprint around it.
"Come on, run, run!" Bella yelled at the little girl, trying to pull her toward the door, but she couldn't move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror, "oh, honestly!"
The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started toward Bella and Hermione. Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: he took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped—it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.
"HARRY!" Bella shrieked with fear.
Howling with pain, the troll twisted and failed its club, with Harry clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip him off or catch him a terrible blow with the club.
Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright; Bella snapped to attention, letting go of the little girl to push forward in a duelling stance, as if she were fighting it with a sword as she brandished her wand through several spells in a rush, "Melofors! Incarcerous! Levicorpus!"
Several things happened all at once. A great giant pumpkin appeared out of thin air over the troll's head, blinding it, and graciously giving Harry something to clutch onto as it whirled around in a panic at losing its sense of sight, sound and smell all at once. Before it could reach up to smash the pumpkin apart, large, enchanted ropes had wrapped itself all around the troll's body, pinning its long arms to its legs. It would break through those soon enough, Bella knew, and so she quickly levitated Harry off its neck, lowering him as fast as she could before she let him slump softly onto the ground beside Weasley. She whipped back to the troll, heart still rattling in her chest, "Wingardium Leviosa!"
The club flew suddenly out of the troll's hand, rose high, high up into the air, turned slowly over — and dropped, with a sickening squelch and crack, onto its owner's pumpkin-covered head. The giant pumpkin smashed into pieces, dripping off the troll grossly, leaving its head covered in fleshy, orange, seeded innards. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble, its smashed pumpkin helmet surrounding it, its arms still bound to its body with rope.
Harry got to his feet. He was shaking and out of breath. Bella was standing there with her wand still raised at the troll, as if she was waiting for it to jump up and kill them.
It was Hermione who spoke first.
"Is it—dead?"
"I don't think so," said Harry, "I think it's just been knocked out."
He bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy grey glue.
"Urgh—troll boogers."
He wiped it on the troll's trousers.
A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the four of them look up. They hadn't realised what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crash and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.
Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Bella and the boys. Bella had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white. Hopes of winning fifty points for Slytherin faded quickly from her mind.
"What on earth were you thinking?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Harry looked at Bella, who was still standing with her wand in the air. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitories?"
Snape gave Bella a swift, piercing look. Harry looked at the floor. Weasley dropped the piece of ceramic sink he'd been planning to throw at the troll.
Then a small voice came out of the shadows.
"Please, Professor McGonagall—they were looking for me."
"Miss Granger!"
Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last.
"I went looking for the troll because I—I thought I could deal with it on my own—you know, because I've read all about them."
Bella lowered her wand, whirling around at the little girl in utter disbelief. "If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry and Ron noticed I was missing. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."
"Well—that—I," McGonagall spluttered, turning towards Bella, "that still doesn't explain what Miss Lestrange—"
"The Slytherins were sent off to the library," Bella explained, voice surprisingly steady after all she'd done, "I was worried it might have made its way after us in the time Professor Quirrell took to get to the Great Hall, and so I hung back to keep an eye on the first year Slytherins while the prefects took the front. If I hadn't been at the back, I wouldn't have spotted these two sneaking off down a staircase when the Gryffindors passed us. I rushed after them and I was just about to whisk them back up to their common room by the ears when we spotted the troll out in the corridor. We hid out behind a doorway and watched it go into the bathroom—"
"—Bella locked it in—"
"—I was going to bring the boys with me and find a professor but then we heard a scream—"
"—she didn't have time to get anyone—"
"And the pumpkin?" Snape raised an eyebrow, cutting off the boys from constantly interrupting Bella.
"Melofors jinx," Bella answered, "most spells rebound off troll hide, so I had to get creative in impairing it somehow...then a body-binding hex, to keep it from swinging its club, and finally a simple levitation charm to knock it out with its own club."
"Well—in that case..." Professor McGonagall recovered somewhat, staring at the four of them, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"
Hermione hung her head. The boys seemed speechless.
"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor Tower. Students are finishing the feast in their Houses—yes, Miss Lestrange, the library for the Slytherins."
Bella put down the hand she had begun to raise. Hermione, without a look at anyone, rushed off. Professor McGonagall turned to Harry and Ron. "Well, I still say you were lucky, I very much doubt you could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll if it weren't for Miss Lestrange. You each win Gryffindor five points for your loyalty to your friend. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."
The boys glanced back at Bella, who nodded at them with a small smile. They scampered out of the bathroom.
"Miss Lestrange, I dare say a special merit award is in order," Professor McGonagall faced her full-on, "whatever got into you to save two Gryffindors—"
"It's the Boy-Who-Lived, Professor," Bella fought the urge to roll her eyes, keeping her tone soft, "couldn't very well let him get killed on my watch, could I?"
McGonagall's lips pressed into a very thin line, "right. Professor Snape?"
"Twenty points to Slytherin, for uncharacteristic heroism," Snape droned, "and I'll discuss the award with the Headmaster. You may go."
Bella fought a grin, tucking her wand back into her robes, moving to head out. She paused just before the door, turning back to the professors who were inspecting the troll, "sir?"
"Yes?" Snape raised an eyebrow coolly at her.
She furrowed her brows, "why was there a troll in the dungeons? I mean, how could it possibly have gotten past the wards, or figured out how to unlock any of the doors into the castle?"
She caught the exchange of looks between McGonagall and Snape before they could hide it, catching her suspicion at once, "the staff will attend to the matter, Miss Lestrange. It should be none of your concern."
"Yes, Professor," Bella nodded her head dutifully, hesitating before she left, "happy Halloween."
She didn't really relax until she got to the library, and found all the Slytherins chattering away and drinking their fill of pumpkin juice. Bella fixed herself a plate and sat down alone in a corner, picking up a book. Her mind whirled with what she had just done.
"Happy birthday to me, I guess," Bella muttered to herself.