AN: Hey, just quickly letting you know that from now on, each month will have a specific story dedicated to it, and I'll focus on that. As many chapters of BiT as I can this October, enjoy!

Davido


Chapter 8: Wingardium Leviosa

September turned into October, with very little change in terms of the weather. The atmosphere around the castle was also barely changed, except for a few details. There was a newfound level of animosity between herself and Theo, who she had initially taken a liking to, but now saw as nothing more than a prat.

It was strange, she thought, that it had been them who had become enemies when there were so many more likely candidates. It wasn't as though he was particularly strong, and he certainly wasn't hugely magically powerful or anything, she would have spotted an aura similar to her own. But then, these things were never very reliable. Hermione, for example, was top of the year, aside from herself, of course, but her aura resembled nothing more than a depressed Giraffe's failed attempt at a Patronus Charm.

Snape had also changed drastically, or, she thought so, at least. The truth was, having given a lot of thought to the matter, Ivy realised that while she had disliked Snape from the moment he told the deadly silence to be quiet, he had only ever taken it out on Rose, who definitely hated him. It was difficult to truly hate Snape like she hated Theo, when he had shown her nothing but support ever since she had become seeker, but it became a little easier once he had given Rose a '0' for the sixth time since the beginning of the term.

She had also discovered, while practising for the first game of the season, that she was truly extraordinarily gifted at Quidditch. Whenever she had played by herself, she had had nobody to compare herself to, but she discovered that Snape may have been onto something when he described her flying skills as 'excellent' when she realised that she could pick out a poor arm rotation in one of their beaters, and point it out to the boy, who laughed it off, before being pelted in the shoulder blade by a bludger only a moment later.

She had been happy, of course, to display his mistake, when asked if she could have done any better.

But the most out of the ordinary thing was that she had reached a certain level of stardom inside the castle. Not only was she the youngest seeker in a century, but the word seemed to have spread that she was better than Hermione Granger in every subject except for transfiguration. This was seen as a great accomplishment.

It had become very hard just to walk around the school without being whispered about or greeted jovially, so she had eventually decided to camp out in the library every now and again in order to just get some peace and quiet. As opposed to fanmail and things slowing down, she was now receiving valentine's letters daily. She could only dread how bad it would get when it was actually Valentine's day. At the very least, people had given up on chess as a conversation topic.

She mulled the previous month over in her head as she walked towards the portrait hole. The inevitable stares and whispers did not affect her as much as they used to. Partially because she had gotten used to them by now, and partially because there was nobody staring or whispering to speak of, at the moment.

She groaned.

There wasn't exactly much chance of her not going to the feast. Quite apart from the lack of a proper supper, she was now the most noticed member of the castle, and her absence would be noted not just by the students, but by the staff as well.

She dragged her feet as slowly as she could towards the great hall, angrily cursing any paintings, or ghosts, who attempted to talk to her. She surprised herself when she barely flinched at the Bloody Baron's threats, though she hadn't been exactly scared of him in life. She had always had the impression he liked Ravenclaw, but, seeing as he was in the present day the Slytherin house ghost made her reckon that that relationship had fallen through.

Surprise surprise.

She wondered who else might not be at the feast. Ron had gotten two slaps to either side of the face (one from Rose, and one from herself) when he had insulted Hermione, saying she had no friends. She still remembered her running past, tears streaming down her eyes. She hoped Hermione would be there, but the fact remained that she hadn't been seen since, including in the library. And, like herself, Hermione wasn't one to leap for joy at the prospect of tons of people. Introverted though she was, Ivy at the very least enjoyed people's company other than very close friends, provided they were polite and such. This was not something applicable for both of them.

She pushed the enormous door open a crack (it was a bit much, even by Hogwarts standards), slipped through and closed it behind her as quietly as she could. The Slytherin table was right next to the door, and nobody seemed to have noticed her entering, at least not over the sounds of Fred and George Weasley setting off fireworks.

She seated herself next to Draco, and scanned the hall. Theo was on the end of the table, his eyes apparently narrowed at an innocuous painting behind her. Ron and Rose were next to each other on the Gryffindor table. No one had noticed Hermione's absence.

Spooky.

"Hey…" Draco muttered to her, pretending to consider whether or not to pile some mashed potatoes onto his plate. "Where were you? You missed Dumbledore's speech,"

Rose, pretending not to notice Crabbe and Goyle guffawing at some joke of Theo's creation, shrugged.

"I wasn't really hungry," she answered, helping herself, even as she said it, to some roast lamb.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Sure, Ms Potter, whatever you say, Ms Potter,"

Theo was definitely watching her from across the table. She averted her gaze.

Just as Dumbledore was making to stand up and make a speech, someone burst into the Great Hall. She nearly jumped out of her seat, spilling some apple juice, and stared with the rest of the hall at Professor Quirrell, of all people, rushing up to Dumbledore, yelling.

"Troll! Troll in the dungeons!" he paused, "Thought you ought to know,"

Ivy watched with a cold sweat as he collapsed onto the ground, and lay there, motionless.

Oh no. Oh no no no no no.

She barely registered as the heads of house ushered all of the students over to their dormitories, and hardly took in Draco yelling at her to get to the common room. Her legs were carrying her as fast as they could in the direction of the girl's bathroom. She didn't know why she was heading in that direction, but she had learnt that whenever her legs decided to take her somewhere, with no apparent input from her brain, it was smartest to listen.

"Left, left, right, straight ahead, second left," she whispered to herself. It was a path that she had learnt first as an excuse to get out of History of Magic, because it was hardly like Binns would notice.

Upon finally reaching the bathroom, she froze. She could hear faint sobs emitting from inside.

Oh. Oh no.

Hermione.

She realised that she must've gasped, because the crying had stopped.

Deciding, on balance, that it was unlikely to resume, she entered. Sure enough, standing by a mirror, was Hermione. She had evidently hastily changed her expression into a smile a little two wide to be entirely believable.

"Oh! Hi, Ivy," she said, in what was evidently not supposed to be a very shaky voice.

Ivy stared at her, completely and utterly bewildered.

Hermione Granger? Crying?

The first horseman of the apocalypse.

"Listen," she said, speaking much faster than she usually did, "You need to get to your dormitory, as quickly as you can!"

"Why?" asked Hermione, and she no longer looked like she was holding back tears, which was something, "Has the feast ended already?"

"No, no, it's not that, there's a tro-"

To Ivy's horror, the door was immediately blown off its hinge by a 6 foot, bellowing, mountain troll.

Hermione squeaked.

Ivy pulled Hermione into a cubicle, and shot a stunning spell at the troll. It bounced off of it and onto a mirror, shattering it. As opposed to causing the troll any damage whatsoever, it only served to make it angrier, and it lunged at her with a club. She didn't dodge fast enough, and it hit her shoulder, making a bony crunch. Ouch.

Well, it was worth a shot.

Knocked off balance, she fell back onto a wall. She could feel a lump on the back of her head, and her spine felt terrible. She gazed up at the terrifying figure of the troll, which had turned its attention to destroying the doors of the cubicles.

With blood running down the side of her head, she cast around for a spell, any spell.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" she yelled.

It took a second for her to figure out why the troll's club was suddenly rising above its head, before she realised which spell she had used. The levitation charm, which had been their first Charms lesson. She glanced at the disgusting creature. It had become distracted by its weapon of choice rising upwards. Thinking on her feet, she made the club go as high as she could make it go, and then… released.

She barely took in the sound of wood on bone, nor the unmistakable, ear-splitting sound of a troll falling head first onto a bathroom floor.

"Are you okay, Hermione?" she asked, dabbing at her bleeding head with a towel.

"Y-yeah, I think so…" she mumbled, sounding very reminiscent of Quirrel. She didn't look hurt, only shaken. Thank God.

"Let's get out of here," she said, quietly hoisting her limp form over her shoulders.

They had barely moved when Professor McGonagall, Snape, and Dumbledore burst in, with Quirrell trailing behind.

"What are you two doing?" asked McGonagall, and then, spotting the unconscious troll, "What did you do?"

"It appears," said Dumbledore, sounding breathless but looking pleased, "That Ms Potter and Ms Granger have knocked out a mountain troll. Very impressive," he said, nodding in their direction, but keeping his eyes on the troll.

"However impressive it was," said Snape, "There is a certain level of idiocy required to take on a mountain troll single-handedly. I am disappointed in you, Ms Potter,"

"Now, really, Severus!" exclaimed McGonagall.

"Ten points from Gryffindor and Slytherin!" he shouted.

"Twenty points to both!" said McGonagall, cutting across him.

Sensing danger, Dumbledore interrupted.

"Perhaps these two should like to get to their respective dormitories. I am sure taking on a fully grown mountain troll at the combined age of 23 is quite a tiring thing to do. Ah- or perhaps, Miss Potter would like to go to the hospital wing, on balance,"

As she walked past, she noticed Snape looked angry. Indeed, his expression was murderous. But though he was facing her, his eyes were fixed, unblinkingly, upon the back of Professor Quirrell's head.