The moment Professor Flitwick had instructed them that Halloween morning that they would be allowed to practice the levitation charm, Harry had been beyond excited. Throughout the first two months of Hogwarts, there had been very little actual magic to say that it was a supposedly magical school . Wands were stowed away in herbology, potions and astronomy, whilst Professor Quirrell seemed so scared of teaching them anything practical that Harry had been forced on multiple occasions to wonder why he'd been hired in the first place. Hermione had reprimanded him a few times for his choice words, though even she was beginning to grow frustrated. Meanwhile, Matthew had made the passing comment that he'd be better suited to teach them all. Harry had laughed at that, thinking it was a joke, but he'd been confused to see Hermione apparently take the remark at face value.

The charms lesson had been a resounding success for the trio. Hermione was, as usual, the first one in the class to successfully levitate her feather. Matthew appeared rather bored during the hour, making his feather float away seconds after their female friend with a practiced and casual flick. It appeared to take him no effort at all, prompting Hermione to glare at him. He had shrugged his shoulders innocently but she was highly suspicious, believing him to have been purposefully holding back. Whether that was to avoid detection for the practice he'd supposedly done in his pre-Hogwarts years or just to let her win, she didn't know. But she didn't like it either way and planned to tell him just that when she got the chance.

Harry had been oblivious to their subtle interactions, so focused he had been on accomplishing the same feat for himself. He'd spent the past week looking through his charms book, revising the wand movement and practicing it under the cover of darkness. For some reason, he felt rather embarrassed when he'd done it in his bed, behind the curtains once everyone else was asleep. He didn't expect the likes of Matthew or Neville to make fun of him but he was still worried that his other dorm mates would mock him for swotting up. He'd noticed some students making fun of Hermione for similar offences, which had made his blood boil, and didn't want to be put in the same position. None of those thoughts or concerns had crossed Harry's mind as he watched his feather rise up, slowly at first before fighting in the air against the other two. Flitwick had commended them all, giving them each five house points, before challenging them to lift as heavy an object as possible (whilst keeping a good distance from everyone else - no one wanted a textbook dropping on their head).

The only downside to their personal triumph was that it caught the attention of all of the other students in the class. Ron Weasley, in particular, had not been too impressed, especially when Hermione stopped her own work in the vain attempt of assisting him. The more she tried to correct his pronunciation of Wingardium Leviosa , the more he seemed to get it wrong, which probably had something to do with the ugly shade of red his face had gone when she'd started her instructions. And, the more he got it wrong, the more impatient she became, believing that he wasn't listening properly. She tried to get across the fact that she was only trying to help, wanting everyone to get the spell right, but Seamus' laughter from behind ringing in his ear had made Ron deaf to her pleas.

They'd just walked out of class, perfectly happy with themselves after a good day's work, when it happened. Ron, Seamus, and Dean were in front of them as the students spilled out of the classroom, emerging into the cold open air as the sun shone down upon them with little effect. It had all the makings of a perfect Autumn day and Hermione was looking forward to curling up on one of the armchairs by the fire in the common room with a book perched on her lap. But the positivity that she'd built up didn't last very long as she couldn't help but overhear their conversation. In truth, it seemed that Ron was making sure everyone, especially her, was able to listen in.

"She's a nightmare!" he was saying. "Constantly trying to correct me when I was about to do it right just before she interfered! Honestly, when she was talking about pronunciation ...I was sure that I'd never heard a more annoying noise than her voice."

Hermione's face had gone a strange mix of pale and ruby red simultaneously, which gave her a rather sickly appearance. She noticed a pain in her shoulder, realising that Matthew was holding it in a tight grip. On her opposite side, Harry's face resembled the thunder that would accompany his lightning scar.

"I tell you, I'm bored of it. Every single lesson, she has to be the first to answer. I think her only hobby is to make the rest of us look thick!"

"You're doing a good job of that yourself, Weasley!" Matthew shouted angrily. The three boys turned around at the sound of his voice. They'd been smirking until they'd seen his dark expression.

"Pardon?"

Matthew's staff was in his hand and he was brandishing it dangerously close to the ginger's face. "Is there a reason why you're insulting Hermione right in front of her? Or is it your only hobby to make people feel bad about themselves?"

"What does it have to do with you?" Seamus shot back, sounding braver than he was actually feeling.

"I'm not talking to you at the moment because you weren't stupid enough to open your mouth. I'd advise you not to change that."

"Who do you think you are?" Ron asked. "No one here knows anything about you yet you walk around the place as if you own it."

"The only thing that matters right now is that I am Hermione's friend and I don't appreciate what you were saying about her. After all, your complaints seemed to stem around the fact that she accomplished something today...both me and Harry did the same...would you like to insult us too? I'll even give you a few moments to think of something really clever, if that's possible."

They were sputtering now, put on the backfoot by his challenge. "No? I didn't think so. Because you wouldn't dare get on the bad side of the great and wonderful Harry Potter. Or the one kid in the year who won't tolerate your nonsense. But a perfectly kind and sweet girl, who has worked hard...something you wouldn't know the meaning of...that's the ideal target for bullies like you. A mighty fine pack of Gryffindors, indeed."

"We're not bullies!" Ron said. "We were just...joking around. My brothers are always insulting one another...and me."

"As long as you realise that jokes aren't always funny, then we can forget about this," Harry spoke up, standing to be next to Matthew. His intervention had reduced the other boy's anger for the time being, with his walking stick now only partially raised. Harry thought back on all the jokes that had been said at his expense over the years. By the Dursleys, by other kids at school, by that one teacher he'd accidentally heard from within the staff room. "We can call this a misunderstanding. You didn't mean anything by it." He was rather surprised by how he was taking control of the situation, basically telling them what was happening. They didn't look like they were going to disagree or argue. "But you still need to apologise."

With a few mumbled 'sorrys', the trio of boys hurriedly walked away, not daring to look back. Matthew gave Harry an appraising look. "I'd say you managed that decidedly better than I did. Threatening them only served to create distinct wet patches on their pants."

"I've had experience in the past of being on the end of taunts like that," was all he said for a moment. In the past, all he'd wanted sometimes was for those people to simply say they hadn't really meant their insults. His friend gazed at him questioningly but he didn't open his mouth. "You know, you're really scary when you want to be."

"I try," Matthew responded with a wink. "It's all in the eyebrows." He waggled said eyebrows with a flourish. It was amazing how quickly he could change between personas. "But I do think I let my temper get the better of me there. Not my proudest moment, that's for sure. I'll learn one day."

Harry didn't know what to make of his cryptic way of speaking, the main language he communicated in. He was too distracted by the sight of Hermione with unshed tears clinging to her eyes to give it any more thought, rushing to be by her side.

"You guys didn't have to do that," she mumbled, angrily wiping at her eyes. "But I did appreciate it. Very much."

"Well, they were just being stupid kids," Matthew told her. "They think the easiest way to impress their friends is to pretend to be all big and clever and domineering. We were just bigger, clever and more...domineering-er." He winced at his less than perfect grammar but felt it got the message across.

"You don't have to put up with getting insulted," Harry said. "You don't deserve that, just because you're talented."

"I'm not talented ," she tried to protest.

"Then I'd say you're just as stupid as those boys," Matthew immediately responded. "If you can't see your brilliance, me and Harry will just have to keep reminding you every single day."

"But you're doing just as well as I am! The focus shouldn't be solely on me."

"Sadly, there will be attention on all of your achievements because of your background. You're a Muggleborn and some people use that as an excuse to expect less of you. If you keep proving them wrong, that's bound to pique people's interest." They'd come to a stop by a stone wall, which they took a seat on. "The Wizarding World has an unhealthy fascination in a person's upbringing, believing that it dictates what they're capable of. Harry here is a Half-Blood so still slightly looked down upon by a select few across society. But he's a special case because he's so gosh darn famous, what with everyone thinking he's the second coming of the Messiah...et cetera, et cetera. Now, Purebloods are at the top of the hierarchy because of a foolish belief in their superiority, despite the majority of them being the worst examples of wizards you can find. Not all of them are bad by any stretch of the imagination but there's plenty that give them a bad reputation. Malfoy, for instance. Why do you think he's so uppity? It's because he's been told he's better because of something he had no control over."

Hermione, naturally, had read this multiple times in preparation for joining this world but it was still fascinating to hear it from someone with experience. The way he spoke, it spoke of being engrossed in society and yet everything he'd told them so far had painted the picture of him being an outsider. "And what are you, Matthew? A Pureblood?"

He clearly looked pained by the question, wanting to ignore it. "You could say that. All of my family certainly had magical abilities." He was choosing his words carefully, both of them knew that. Even when he was telling them something, he was always holding back. "I don't care about that stuff anyway." He waved his hand, as if he were putting an end to that conversation before it began. "You both are proof that blood and families have no say in what you can achieve. Some wizards need to learn that before it costs them."

"So...I'm going to have to get used to this then?" Hermione asked in a small voice. She really wasn't looking forward to that. Even Harry looked pessimistic about the future now.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Which is why you have to learn how to ignore them. You have three options. Intimidate them to get them off your back, which I have a fondness for. Take the high road, which was Harry's choice, and a lot less likely to get you beaten up. Or carry on what you're doing, using your skills to speak for themselves. Obviously, you could run away from this world, which is a fourth option but I really hope you don't even think about that."

"Never," she said firmly. That wasn't even a choice. Matthew nodded his head, pleased with her decision. "I don't want to lose you two. I've never had anyone stick up for me before. So...thank you...again. I feel as if I have to keep saying that."

"Less of this serious talk!" Harry complained with a smile, now they were past all that. "I heard the older students talking about the Halloween feast and how it's one of the best parts of the year. I don't want to miss it!"

"Magical school...magical food...food that doesn't run out," Matthew sighed. "And yet everyone still rushes to get a seat." He eyed the two of them carefully. "Race you!" And, with a speed they didn't expect him to possess, he was off, Harry and Hermione chasing behind, their carefree laughter ringing through the Autumn air.

xxxxxxxxxx

The Great Hall was abuzz with excited chatter as the school populace crowded in for their meal. Each long table was decorated with pumpkins, their faces snarling, placed at even intervals. Harry was actually quite surprised that they didn't come to life, knowing what the norm was with Hogwarts. The House banners were covered in cobwebs and an assortment of orange and black bunting. The magical ceiling, bringing the stormy night inside, could be seen through a collection of bats tied on string, flying lazily in small circles. If anything, the spooky accents added to the hall made it seem like it hadn't been cleaned in years, though Harry wasn't going to suggest that to the caretaker, Argus Filch. Even the food that everyone was currently tucking into was Halloween themed. He had his eye on a large pumpkin pie that smelled quite scrumptious. Cookies and cakes were available, all shaped into the typical figures of the holidays, such as ghosts and spiders. He had seen Neville fail to catch a cookie witch (that bore no resemblance whatsoever to the female populace around him) on a broom as it flew away, cackling and screeching. It was absolutely bonkers to Harry, as if the school's wackiness had been turned up to its maximum.

He had never really experienced Halloween before. It had been Dudley's third favourite day of the year, behind Christmas and his birthday. He always came home with a giant bag of sweets that Harry was sure he hadn't strictly gotten himself. Rumours spread of a group of boys bullying other kids for their candy, though Vernon and Petunia Dursley had never believed their 'little' son could do such a thing. Harry would hear other children knocking on their door, asking for treats. His uncle would be surprisingly gracious despite the constant interruptions to him watching the tv, but that was probably just in case the kids had parents in high places. There had been one Halloween when Harry had managed to snatch one bar of chocolate that had fallen out of Dudley's winnings. It had been the sweetest, most glorious sensation, taking that first bite. He'd wanted to savour it but had instead eaten it quickly, not wanting to risk getting caught. To have everything at his disposal now, all the treats he could fit into his stomach, was a stark reminder of how much his life had changed for the better.

It was also a strange time for Harry. Only a few months ago, Hagrid had broken the news to him that his parents had died on this very day, ten years earlier. He felt like he should be sad, as if he didn't have the right to be having fun on such a dark anniversary. He had caught a few of the professors giving him longing looks filled with pity, including Professor McGonagall, like they expected him to burst into tears at any given moment. But Harry didn't feel like crying. The wizarding world marked the date with celebrations because they had reaped the rewards without any of the sacrifices that day. He was caught in the middle, wanting to mourn the parents he didn't know whilst wanting to embrace the festivities to fit in. His mind wandered during the meal, wondering whether his mum would have baked the same sort of food for the family if she'd had the chance. It left some of the mouthfuls he was spooning in with a bitter taste.

"Trick or treating?" he heard Matthew ask in puzzlement. He was cutting into a hot steak pie, the gravy oozing out enticingly. Hermione had been trying to explain to him the Muggle practice with very little success. "So kids go to other houses and ask for sweets? That's absolutely insane! What if the sweets are poisoned or tampered with? If you ask me, it's the perfect opportunity to take out your rivals with minimal effort."

"I'm quite concerned that that's where your mind goes straight away," Hermione responded with a wary look. A spoon of pumpkin soup hovered over her bowl as she stared at her friend. "I can't believe that you've never heard of it! That's the main part of Halloween."

"I must have missed it," he said idly, shaking his head. "It's nice to know that there's still loads of things I don't know. It means that I'm not going to get bored."

Hermione beamed at that since her mindset worked the same way. "I was never allowed to do it. With the work my parents do, they didn't want me eating a bunch of sugary stuff all at once. I didn't really mind. Most people went out with their friends so it wasn't as if anyone was missing me."

"We'll have to go trick or treating," Harry proclaimed, patting her on the back. "The three kids that never got to experience it."

"How do you suppose we do that? We're at Hogwarts for the next seven years. By the time we have the opportunity, we'll be far too old."

"There's no point in growing up if you can't be a little childish sometimes," Matthew told her with a roguish grin. "If we wear good enough costumes, no one will even notice anyway! It's the perfect scheme."

They were interrupted from planning their post-Hogwarts activities when the main doors to the Great Hall swung open, slamming loudly. Everyone turned to see who it was, surprised to find that it was Professor Quirrell. Harry hadn't even noticed that the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher had been missing from the head table. His turban was off-quilter and slightly unravelled at the end, his expression fearful and frantic. He was also running, which Harry had never seen him do before. The timid man gave the impression of a jogger if anything, not a sprinter.

"Troll!" he yelled, more like a wail. "In the dungeon! Just thought you'd like to know…" Quirrell fainted seconds after finishing his declaration, just before pandemonium ravaged the feast.

The sound of the benches scraping against the stone floor as they were shoved away from the tables would have been deafening if it hadn't been drowned out by the yells and screams of the student populace. The phrase 'headless chickens' sprung to Harry's mind as he watched them run and barge into one another, not knowing what to do. Quirrell was still on the floor, forgotten in the chaos of it all, and Harry absentmindedly wondered whether he'd get trampled by the onrushing stampede if people weren't careful. Most of the other professors had stood up too, their faces ashen as they considered how to calm the situation. There were only two people in the Great Hall who were suitably composed enough to think properly. Matthew, the only student still sitting down, had a dark expression on his face as he looked over to the head table, where Dumbledore had just stood up. His mighty command for silence reverberated around the chamber, stunning the crazed children into compliance. How his voice had travelled so far, with the old man looking on the frail side, was a mystery to Harry but it was the first glimpse he'd had at the power he had people say he possessed.

From that point on, the atmosphere was slightly less panicked as the prefects were tasked with taking their Houses back to the safety of the common rooms. Percy Weasley appeared to be enjoying the role immensely despite the apparent danger they were all in, ordering the other pupils to follow him quickly and without defiance. They were marched up the stone steps back to Gryffindor Tower but there was still a lot of bustling going on, some of the older kids believing they deserved to get back first. If Harry had been more confident and less fearful for the safety of his body, he would have commented on the fact that they were supposed to be the bravest in the school, whereas they were now hoping the younger years provided a sufficient enough snack for the troll to save their own skins. Instead, he kept his head down, making sure Hermione was still by his side as they navigated the moving staircases that were thankfully a lot more cooperative than usual. He was sure that their headmaster had something to do with that too.

It was only when they got through the portrait of the fat lady did Harry allow himself to relax. Rushing through the corridors, he had been sure that, at any moment, a lumbering, stinking beast would emerge and delight in attacking them all. Much to his, and everyone's, relief, that hadn't happened. In fact, once inside the common room, the students immediately seemed to calm down, the scared shouts turning into murmured conversations. If a troll was in the dungeons, then there was no way it could get up here. And the professors were surely more than capable to deal with a notoriously stupid creature. They were safe. And, suddenly, it felt as if the threat had never existed. With the excitement over, most of the Gryffindors were deciding to get an early night or choosing to claim different corners of the communal area to spend the evening playing games. Getting homework out of the way wasn't crossing anyone's mind - they had suffered a trauma after all and there was no need to add to that.

Harry would have liked to have enjoyed the strange element of contentment that had settled amongst them now the danger was probably behind them. But the sensation of Hermione desperately pulling on his school robes instantly told him that that wasn't going to be the case. The look on her face was sheer panic and he found that his heart was beating faster because of it.

"Matthew's not here!" she said in a loud whisper. "We must have got separated in the crowd on the way here!"

"He's got to be here!" Harry retorted, trying to convince himself more than anything. He scanned the common room frantically, praying that he would spot their friend's face. But it wasn't as busy now and they would have seen him easily if he'd been nearby. "Where else would he be?" His mind racing, he sped off, running up the stairs to their shared dorm room. He was going to be there. He had to be there. He'd be sat there and he'd claim he just didn't like how loud everyone was being or they were getting on his nerves. That had to be it. But, when he slammed open the door, the room was empty. The other boys were downstairs, he knew that, playing a game of chess or something. That didn't matter. Matthe wasn't there, still missing. The beds had their curtains drawn too, leaving nowhere to hide. His return back to the common room was just as quick as his departure but a lot more sullen. Hermione practically deflated when she saw him and his demeanour, her fears confirmed when Harry shook his head.

"What if he's still outside?" She was visibly hyperventilating. Her friend, one of two she had ever had, was possibly in danger and, for once, she didn't know what to do. Her normally organised mind was failing to think properly. "I heard Percy locking the door! He'd be stuck outside!"

Harry was moving towards the prefect before she'd finished speaking. "Percy! We need to get out quickly!"

"That's not happening, Potter," Percy said down to him. "We've had our orders. No one is to leave until we get confirmation that the threat is over. No exceptions."

"But our friend isn't here!" Hermione pleaded. "We can't find him."

"Nonsense. There's no way that'd happen under my watch." He was talking incredibly pompously, much to their irritation, as if he could do no wrong in his eyes. "He'll be around somewhere. Now go away and stop distracting me. I've got more important things to deal with rather than you two making things up ."

The pair trudged away, not hiding their glares at the older student. They stood in the middle of the common room, Harry with his back to the prefect because, if he had been facing him, there was no telling what he'd find himself saying in anger.

"What do we do then?" Hermione asked. "We need to find him."

"Definitely. He could be getting eaten by a troll as we speak."

She let out a high pitched gasp that had a number of people staring in their direction. "Harry!"

"Maybe there's another exit? Seeing as we're not getting past Percy." He spat the name out. Barring the twins, his experiences with the Weasleys had been far from stellar so far. "There's got to be something in Hogwarts, A History ."

"They wouldn't tell potential students how to get into a supposedly secure part of the building. That'd be asking for trouble."

"We're going to be in trouble if we just stay here."

"Every professor will be dealing with the troll. He probably won't be in any danger."

"We can't take that chance!" Harry was growing more frustrated by the second, feeling constrained by the stupid rules. Maybe if he was in Ravenclaw he'd be able to figure out a smart solution.

"Take a chance on what?"

They froze at the sound of the recognisable voice. Slowly turning around, they were mightily relieved but also surprised to see Matthew behind them, his eyebrows scrunched together as he examined their worried expressions. He looked slightly more dishevelled than usual, especially contrasted with his normally composed demeanour. His robes were untucked and one side of his face was covered in a strange viscous substance.

"Where have you been?" Hermione screeched. She didn't even care that some people were glancing at them.

He paused for a moment, taken aback by her tone. "I was...in the dorm room. There was far too much pushing and shoving in here so I thought I'd let it die down."

"But I checked in there!" Harry protested. "No one was there. No one."

"You mustn't have looked hard enough. Been there since we made it back. I was forced away from you by the waves of students. People are really rude in a crisis."

"But...you...I…" Harry sputtered helplessly. He must have been telling the truth. As they'd established, the only way in was through the portrait hole and that was sealed shut. But how had he evaded his searches? Had he been hiding? Why would he be hiding if that was the case?

"What's that on your face?" Hermione wondered with a suspicious gaze.

Matthew brought a hand up and winced at the sticky goo. It was predominantly black as oil with an ugly green tinge to it. "There must have been something on the walls. You know what Peeves is like with his pranks." He could tell that the other two were still not convinced by his explanations. "Look, I'm sorry if you were worried but there really was no reason for it. I am flattered that you both cared so much. I was as safe as everyone. The troll is...will be gone now. How it got in is another matter."

The prospect of another mystery, besides Matthew's increasingly strange behaviour, snapped Hermione back into her usual inquisitive mode. "You don't think someone let it in, do you?"

Matthew shrugged. "If they did, they would have known it wouldn't prove much of a test for Dumbledore or someone else to deal with. I bet a first year could knock it out if they were lucky enough. No, it wouldn't have been to cause damage. But it definitely caused something."

"What?" Harry asked.

"A distraction. The question then is…a distraction for what?"