Chapter 5:

The Troll in the Bathroom

Harry was greatly looking forward to Halloween. Not only just for the day, but also for the fact that after Halloween was November, and November was the start of the Quidditch season.

The reason Harry was so excited for Quidditch was because he was going to play.

When Professor McGonagall had furiously marched Harry from the lawn after the first flying lesson, Harry had been convinced he was going to be punished or expelled. His surprise when neither happened but instead the professor had made him a Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team!

Harry was elated. He had never played a sport before, let alone on a broomstick, but flying felt for him as natural as walking. With each Quidditch practice, Harry got the hang of the game more and more.

The only damper on his mood was Hermione Granger. Harry didn't mind her as much as Ron did, yet she could be very annoying with all her book knowledge. She was always pointing out mistakes and attempting to tell them how to do things. ("It's pronounced Wing-gar-dium Levi-O-sa.") Harry was sure she was really trying to be helpful, but she did get on his nerves. Still, he felt sorry for her.

Harry didn't see Hermione all afternoon on Halloween. Someone said she was crying in the girl's bathroom.

"Serves her right," Ron grumbled.

Harry didn't agree.

The Great Hall was decorated with thousands of carved pumpkins and live bats swooping over the tables and for a while, Harry forgot about Hermione. He even forgot about Professor Snape.

Until Professor Quirrell ran in shrieking "TROLL! Troll in the dungeons!" at the top of his lungs.

He made it to Dumbledore's chair at the great table, gasped out "Thought you might like to know," and fainted dead away on the floor.

Someone screamed. Or it might have been several someones.

Suddenly Harry found himself getting up and shuffling back to the Gryffindor tower after Percy Weasley the prefect.

How had a troll gotten in? Harry questioned.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Professor Snape disappear through a door in the opposite direction of the dungeons. Where could he be going?

Then Harry had a horrid thought.

"Ron! She doesn't know!"

"Who?" Ron whispered back.

"Hermione! She wasn't at dinner. She doesn't know about the troll!"

"But-" Ron protested.

Harry didn't let him finish. He grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him out of the queue of Gryffindors.

When Percy had gone around a corner, they slipped out of sight.

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Snape did not like Halloween. He didn't really like any holidays, but Halloween was an especially noisy one. The bats, the pumpkins, the festive fare. It was of course a day for children, which was probably the main reason he didn't like it.

The Great Hall was full of giggles and merriment that got under Snape's skin. Normally, he didn't mind it so much, as Quidditch season was right around the corner. However, he wasn't looking forward to it as much as he usually did.

Because Harry Potter would be playing.

According to the rumour, instead of being kicked out of Hogwarts for his reckless behaviour on the field, as Snape had hoped, Potter had become the youngest Seeker in a century. If the boy was as good on the Quidditch pitch as Snape had witnessed that afternoon during flying lessons, the Slytherin team would be hard pressed.

This was why Snape wasn't even engaging in conversation with the other teachers during the evening meal. At least Professor Quirrell wasn't next to him. Snape hadn't seen him in a few hours, which wasn't unusual. The Dark Arts teacher often buried himself in books.

Or so he said.

Snape was a little suspicious of Quirrell. Ever since he had come back from traveling over the summer holidays, the professor hadn't been himself. Not to mention that absurd turban he now wore.

Snape's thoughts were interrupted when the doors to the Great Hall burst open and Quirrell himself ran in, panic-stricken and his turban askew.

"TROLL! Troll in the dungeons!"

As the headmaster brought order, Snape had one thought.

The third floor corridor. It had to be guarded. That was where Snape headed when the students were sent to their dormitories and the other teachers went to deal with the troll.

The third floor was marked out of bounds for the students, and for good reason. Filch the caretaker made sure of that.

Snape gained the stairs. He reached the corridor at the exact same time as another. It was Professor Quirrell.

"Quirrell," Snape said.

The professor jumped, almost fell over and stammered so much Snape couldn't understand a word he said.

"Why aren't you down in the dungeons?" Snape demanded.

"I-I thought s-someone should c-come check and make s-sure things were s-safe," Quirrell said, looking desperately terrified of Snape.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Oh?"

"D-Dumbledore and P-professor McGonagall c-can handle it," Quirrell muttered. "What are you d-doing here, S-Severus?"

"The same thing as you, Quirrell," Snape replied in a dangerously low tone.

Quirrell looked deathly pale, as if he might faint again. "Er, um, you s-see-"

There came a scream, a girl's scream, followed by two others. Boys' screams. And a sound of wood splintering.

Snape and Quirrell took off running, leaving the third floor behind. They met up with Minerva McGonagall on the second floor landing.

"It sounded like it came from the girl's bathroom!" she said breathlessly.

There was another scream and a huge CRASH.

The sight which greeted their eyes was enough to make anyone pause.

The bathroom was mostly destroyed. Water was squirting in geysers from broken sinks and pooling over the floor.

In the middle of the shattered wood from the stalls and porcelain sink parts was a huge mountain troll. It had fallen on its face, apparently knocked out by its own club.

Quirrell squeaked and clasped a hand to his heart.

And standing over the troll were three children.

Hermione Granger was covered in dust and wood splinters. Her tear-stained face was staring at the troll.

The two boys had stupefied expressions on their faces. Ron Weasley had plaster in his red hair, his wand clutched shakily in his hand.

Harry Potter's glasses were crooked and his nose was bleeding.

McGonagall got her breath back first. "Miss Granger, Mr Weasley and Mr Potter: EXPLAIN yourselves!"

The boys exchanged a look of panic.

"Well, you see-" Weasley began.

"It wasn't-" Potter ventured.

"It was all my fault," Hermione said loudly.

All eyes went to her, all listened as she explained about going searching for the troll on her own.

Snape's eyes darted to the other two. Wesley's mouth hung open and Potter appeared to be trying to not look surprised.

Snape studied Potter's dirty face. The wand Potter was holding limply was dripping with a green slime. The boy breathed in, then wiped the bloody nose on the back of his hand. He looked up and met Snape's gaze. Snape didn't see innocence there, and he didn't see guilt. But he did see fear.

Harry quickly looked away.

"Well, I hope you realize just how fortunate you are," Minerva McGonagall was saying to Hermione Granger. "Five points will be deducted for your foolishness."

The girl hung her head.

"And as for you two," Minerva looked over at Ron and Harry, "Five points will be awarded each."

The boys smiled sheepishly.

Snape shot them both another look and they turned colour.

"For sheer dumb luck," Minerva McGonagall added as she turned to leave.

For once, Snape agreed with her.

As the Gryffindors scurried off to their common room, Snape saw Harry glance back in his direction.

Snape wondered just how innocent he really was.

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