Chapter Ten - Troll in the Castle
The smell of baking pumpkins wafted through the halls and common rooms on Halloween morning, informing everyone of the feast that was to come. Excitement fluttered among the students, the first-years interest piqued at what will happen tonight. Evangeline, however, found it difficult to get out of bed.
Her face was unreadable, her dark eyes glittering with sorrow, her mind littered with the thoughts of Trick-Or-Treating. Since she was four, she loved dressing up in whatever costume caught her eye that year, going house to house to stare at all of the decorations while receiving free sweets on top of it. Once Theodore was old enough to join, he wasn't as excited but very much willing to participate. Evangeline would always dress up as a superhero, a pirate, or other character who had daring adventures. Theodore went as cartoon characters whose designs he loved. Their mother would take their picture and send it to their father, who'd remark how cute they looked, wishing he was there.
With great hesitance, Evangeline dragged herself out of bed and to the bathroom, where she changed out of her nightgown, showered, put on her uniform, brushed her teeth, and combed her hair. A routine that never changes. Not even today.
Evangeline stared at herself in the mirror, her eyes scanning every inch of her as self-loathing bubbled up. A part of her knew it was foolish to care this much about a holiday. She can't Trick-or-Treat forever. Experiencing puberty meant growing up, and growing up meant sacrificing things you love, no matter how much you want it to stay.
Unfortunately, for that voice, it was much too quiet.
A mischievous grin spread across her features, her eyes darting toward her comb. Within a second, it was in her grasp, her head was down, and her hair was draped over her face. Remembering the steps her mother had taken, Evangeline separated each strand into pairs. She created two braids and braided those, then made a couple smaller braids originating from the top of the first two and connecting it to the other side. Evangeline flips her hair back, taking the time to admire her handiwork. It wasn't perfect, but not bad for her first time doing it. With a pep in her step, Evangeline rushed to her trunk, swiftly casting a spell to open it, and searching for . . . something. She's not sure what.
Evangeline pushed her clothes around in her trunk, not caring about the wrinkles that formed as they unfolded. In the bottom left corner, she found the pearl bracelet her mother had given her before she got onto the train for Hogwarts. Her lips curved into a smile as she recalled the conversation her father had with her mother.
"Don't you think this is a bit extravagant for an eleven-year-old?" He asked, inspecting the bracelet as he turned it over.
"Perhaps," her mother replied, gently taking the bracelet from him and putting it on Evangeline's wrist. "But I thought it'd be a good way to get her to fidget and focus on her classes at the same time."
Her mother's plan didn't work as Evangeline hasn't worn the bracelet since September first.
Evangeline was hit by a sudden pang of worry for her brother, knowing Theodore would be Trick-Or-Treating alone this year. And the next until he arrives at Hogwarts in her third year. If he gets his letter that is. Theodore hasn't been showing any signs of having magic like she did. Not that he cares.
As Professor Flitwick had promised, the students were given the task of practicing the Levitation Charm on a feather. Evangeline was paired up with Neville, who wasn't pleased to be paired up with her. He squirmed in his seat, nervously glancing her way. Neville knew she wasn't her father, but the similarities made him think differently.
"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" Professor Flitwick squeaked, perched atop his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too – never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."
Upon being given the go ahead to start, Neville watched in shock as Evangeline took out her wand, flicked her wrist, said "Wingardium Leviosa," and the feather rose above them. With how quickly she did it, he could tell this wasn't her first time doing it. His eyes caught sight of her wand, spotting the intricate designs that had been so clearly painted on. Neville didn't realize his hand was slowly sliding towards it until Evangeline's hand came crashing down in front of it with a loud bang, startling everyone.
"What was that?" asked Professor Flitwick, craning his head towards their side of the room.
"It was probably nothing," Evangeline shot back, putting her wand away and glaring at Neville. She turns to Professor Flitwick, her expression easily shifting to nonchalance. "Most likely my father is having a very bad morning."
Professor Flitwick's brows knitted in disbelief at her statement. They were far too high up to hear any explosions coming from the Potions classroom, much less feel it. However, the longer he thought about it, the more he started to believe her. After all, she was the Potions Master's daughter, and knowing what kind of professor Snape is, it was reasonable to assume that she had a higher knowledge in potions and their effects when brewed incorrectly than he did.
There was still a hint of uncertainty in his eyes as he nodded, seeming to accept her answer before turning away briefly.
"Your turn," Evangeline tells Neville, barely looking in his direction as she slides the feather to him. She crossed her arms over her chest, facing forward, her eyes surveying the room.
Neville nods, gulping back the voices reminding him of his inferiority, and raises his wand. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second, before flicking his wrist and casting the spell. His hopefulness dropped to disappointment when the feather didn't float.
Without turning her head, Evangeline orders in a voice that sounded as though she was training a warrior, "Again."
Neville's eyes widened in surprise, a chill running up his spine. "You didn't even –"
"I don't need to. Do the spell again."
A flicker of fear enters his eyes as he nods, wondering how she could know he failed without looking. He tries again, and fails again. Evangeline's voice remains steady and firm as she directs Neville to continue trying, with each attempt ending in failure. With each failure, Neville grew anxious at what kind of insult she'll throw at him; she never looked at him, like the act of doing so would anger her. His hands trembled, growing sweaty, the flick of his wrist resulting in him dropping his wand.
Neville's quickening breath was halted by a cookie entering his view. Was it . . . blue? The dough had hardened around the melted chocolate chip, creating a delicious combination of what would be a crunchy, gooey treat.
"Cookies help me calm down," Evangeline explained in a soft voice, holding the cookie out to him. "Don't question the color, just take it."
Neville took it from her. "Thank you," he said, taking a bite, finding it was just as delicious as he expected.
"You lack confidence, Neville," she tells him. "That's what my father would tell you if he just . . . it doesn't matter. What matters is, you have potential. No matter what anyone else says, I believe you will be a great wizard someday."
Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, a thousand words passing through them as Neville gazed into her sympathetic dark hues, before Professor Flitwick cried out "Oh, well done! Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it!"
"What?" Neville softly spoke, his eyes glancing at Hermione's proud face. "But you did it first, didn't you?"
The faint smile on Evangeline's face told him that she knew, the hint of sadness glittering in her eyes before being replaced by indifference informing him she was trying not to care. Neville couldn't understand it. Wouldn't she want everyone to know she completed the task first? Then again, as he thought back to all of their classes, he can't remember her ever raising her hand. He thought it was weird. Now more so that he knows she's Professor Snape's daughter. He found Professor Snape to be demanding, expecting perfection. It probably screwed her up somehow.
Alarm bells rang in Evangeline's mind as soon as she stepped into her second class. Her gut told her something was wrong, and as she looked around, she knew exactly what it was: Hermione wasn't here.
There was nothing threatening about the Muggle girl, but it was strange that she wasn't here. Hermione was the definition of a Teacher's Pet. She is never late to class, much less miss them as Evangeline would soon notice.
Her dark eyes darted in every direction they could find, desperately searching for that familiar bushy brown hair and brown eyes that reminded her of that magnificent oak tree outside of her bedroom back home. Evangeline's anxiety rose, concern for one of the smartest girls in the school turning into anger at the thought of someone hurting her. Wait . . . what?
Evangeline's cheeks flushed a bright red in embarrassment at the realization of how much she cared for Hermione. It felt weird, to say the least. What is this feeling bubbling up from the pit of her stomach? The one that made her heart race and worry for the wellbeing of a girl she barely knows. Evangeline shakes her head, scolding the feeling away. She takes a deep breath, leaning back in her chair, doing her best to act cool and detached.
Since this morning, she had thought of nothing except indulging in the Halloween Feast. Her father had told her tales about the decorations and the food. All of it sounded magical, which would be expected in a school like this. However, the fear and concern over Hermione and her whereabouts lingered in the back of Evangeline's mind. Not knowing where she was, if she was okay, was dampening her appetite.
Evangeline's eyes continued searching for Hermione, standing on the tips of her toes every couple of steps. Her every try made the grip around her heart tighten, threatening to stop it from beating if she didn't stop searching. Her stubborn nature refused to listen. Evangeline needed to make sure Hermione was okay.
Then, she overheard Parvati Patil tell Lavender that Hermione was crying in the girls' bathroom, telling everyone who came near she wanted to be left alone.
Her first strategy was to check every girls' bathroom in Hogwarts, but that'd take too long. She stopped and thinked. If Hermione disappeared right after Charms and their next class was Transfiguration, and they all took the same route there, then the most likely bathroom she was hiding in was the one on the third floor.
Evangeline nods once to herself, pivoting on her heels and booking it down the hall.
Like lightning, Evangeline zipped through the corridors, her robe flowing behind her like a cape. Her hands scraped against the stone walls and floor with each turn – and she was sure one was bleeding but didn't care to check. As the third floor bathroom came into view, Evangeline slowed down, wiping away the nonexistent sweat off of her brow. She breathes in deeply, a shaky exhale following soon after.
Calm, Evangeline, she reminds herself as she opens the door. Calm is helpful. Calm smooths things along.
Hermione's quiet sobs fill the bathroom, a pressure growing on Evangeline's chest the more she listens. She ignores it as she makes her way to the last stall, walking soundlessly. The pain radiating from her chest is unfamiliar. It felt like the one she'd get whenever Theodore got bullied, but this one was different. Vastly different.
"Hermione?" Evangeline's voice was as soft as a butterfly beating its wings, her tone filled with concern.
"Go away!" the girl cried, her sobs followed by sniffles.
"I - I can't do that. I'm worried about you." She hesitantly puts her hand on the stall door. "You haven't been in classes the entire day. I know you wouldn't not go unless something was wrong."
There is a brief silence. "You - you're worried about me?"
"Of course, I am. I know I haven't been the most friendly with you, or at all really, but that doesn't mean I don't care about you. What happened?"
Hermione sniffles. "Ron called me a nightmare," she explains, her voice cracking. "He said no one could stand me. He isn't the only one who has said things like that, but he was just -" her voice cuts off, the lump in her throat preventing any sound from coming out.
"People are jerks," Evangeline sneers, taking a deep breath to control her anger. "I don't know what the others have said, but you are not a nightmare, Hermione. Hard to stand, yes, but not a nightmare. Personally, I think you're bossy."
"I'm not trying to be bossy!" Hermione exclaims, irritation lacing her words. "I just . . . Ron wasn't casting the Levitation Charm right and I was trying to help him."
"You know," Evangeline leans against the door, checking her nails, "my brother has autism."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Sometimes when he signs, his hand movement and face makes him sound ruder than intended. Maybe you do that as well?"
Hermione is quiet, he gears turning in her brain as she considers her words. "Do I often sound bossy?" she asks in a whisper.
Without hesitation, Evangeline answers, "Yes."
Hermione hadn't expected her answer to be so quick. "You're very blunt, aren't you?"
"You're very observant." She grins. "Come on, if we stay here any longer, we're going to miss the feast."
There's an audible click as the door unlocks. Evangeline takes a step back, eyes lighting up as Hermione steps out with no injuries. A voice in the back of her head reminded her that injuries can be invisible, but she pushed that aside for now. Evangeline's eyes lingered on Hermione's lips for longer than they should've, an unexplained feeling rising in her chest as her heart thumped wildly. She shakes her head, pushing the feeling down along with the voices and takes a step towards Hermione.
The girl lets out a high-pitched, petrified scream, the sound piercing the air and making Evangeline's eyes widen in confusion and shock. She follows Hermione's gaze.
Whipping her head around, Evangeline comes face-to-face with a mountain troll. She glances between its club – analyzing the density and firmness of the wood – and its size. It stood tall; its bald head nearly touching the ceiling, its lumpy body with short legs and long arms blocking their only escape. They're essentially trapped. At the edge of her peripheral, she sees Hermione shrink against the wall, her eyes wide and mouth open in terror.
"Stay quiet," Evangeline whispered to Hermione, eyes locked on the troll and her hand steadily reaching for her wand. "The last thing we want to do is–"
"Confuse it!"
Her attention snapped around the troll, eyes widening in horror as she spotted Harry seizing a tap. Before she could open her mouth, Harry threw the tap as hard as he could at the wall. Minutes turned to seconds for Evangeline, a plan hurriedly forming in her mind. The troll stopped a few feet from them, lumbered around, and blinked stupidly to see what made the noise; and once its eyes set on Harry, her panic soared. She whipped out her wand, nonverbally casting the stunning charm.
What happened next was both remarkable and too confusing for anyone but the gods to understand.
In one exhale, Evangeline's eyes swept over the troll, noting its constricting muscles as it lifted its club; Ron's taunt echoes out, drawled and loud, his arm pulling back and swinging forward like a pitcher, chucking a metal pipe at the troll's shoulder; a streak shoots out of the end of her wand, the blue glinting green in the torchlight, and, like the start of an earthquake, a low rumbling emerges beneath her feet. With a shut of her eyes, Harry's demand for Hermione to run grows faint against the sound of surging water. It pounded in her ears, roaring like the banshees her mother had told her about; coursing through her veins like a Stoor Worm racing towards its prey, demolishing everything in its path. Her eyes opened in time to see her spell make contact with the troll's face – and the bathroom exploded. A sudden burst of water propels the stall doors off their hinges, slamming into the troll's face one by one. The last door, combined with the Stun Charm, caused it to grow dizzy, blood dripping from its shattered nose. The troll fought to keep its balance, and Ron and Harry scattered.
A puddle forms at the base of its flat, horny feet, and it slips. The castle trembles, stone cracks, dust flies in every direction, and the troll lays unconscious at the other end of the bathroom.
As the dust settles and Evangeline lowers her wand, there is silence. Harry, Ron, and Hermione turn their heads to stare at her in a mixture of awe and disbelief, fear and apprehension flickering in their eyes. Hurrying footsteps draw closer, and Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell rush into the bathroom, alerted by the thud the troll made when it fell. They too stay silent, reacting similarly to the trio as their eyes landed on Evangeline. For the first time after accomplishing something great, she felt small. Terrified. It was clear what they wanted: answers.
She opened her mouth, but no words came out. What would she say? What could she say? Evangeline felt in her bones, saw it happen, but how do you explain that casting the Stunning Charm led to water bursting out of the toilets, grabbing the doors, and chucking it at a troll? Not to mention she destroyed the bathroom. Evangeline flinched as a piece of debris fell from the ceiling, fearing the scolding for . . . what she didn't know, but she knew there'd be one.
If only she hadn't been too busy about the consequences to notice the holographic, glowing green trident hovering above her head.