Chapter Nine - Trolled
Harry dumped his bag on the table, wincing at the loud thud it made. Madam Pince glared at him from the front desk, and Hermione looked up from her book with annoyance.
"If you get me kicked out of here because you can't be quiet…" she said.
Ron and Neville sat down beside him, sharing amused looks.
"Sorry," said Harry, "but it's not my fault these books are so big. Can't they make them smaller for first year students?"
Hermione looked up again. "You could just shrink them, you know. Or, use a lightweight charm."
"We haven't learned those yet," said Ron.
"Which means Harry somehow knows them," Neville said. "Like yesterday on the way to Herbology, when you fired gum up Peeves' nostril."
Hermione nodded in agreement.
Harry sighed. "I've already told you, I don't know every spell. I just happen to read ahead, occasionally."
"Is that where you've been randomly disappearing off to for the last two months?" Hermione asked, sharing a look with Ron and Neville.
"What?" said Harry. "No, I just like to explore."
"You like to explore with heavy books weighing your bag down?"
"What is this, an interrogation?" Harry said, opening a book with more force than necessary.
Hermione sighed, and went back to reading.
"Besides," Harry continued, "I have enough reading to do as it is. I forgot— I mean, I didn't realise how much homework they would give us. Let alone the extra stuff McGonagall is making me do."
"Didn't Professor Quirrell also give you something?" Hermione asked, pouting a little.
"Oh yeah." said Harry, scratching his head. "I forgot about that." He had actually forgotten about it, with all his extra homework and quidditch practice. Even if he hadn't forgotten though, he had no intention of doing anything extra Quirrell set him.
Hermione huffed again and returned to her book, her hair falling like a curtain around her face, as if to find some privacy from the three boys that had invaded her table.
"I seriously can't believe you're jealous of extra work, Hermione." Ron shook his head in disbelief. "You must be barmy."
"Hey," Harry said, giving Ron a serious look, "Hermione is allowed to enjoy studying. I think it's commendable."
Harry fought to keep his temper in check. He normally wouldn't have batted an eye at that sort of talk from Ron, but since Harry had been reminded about the troll attack, he had to do everything he could to make sure Hermione wasn't upset on the day of the Halloween feast. If that meant confronting Ron every single time he said something a bit mean, so be it. He felt bad, anyway, that comments like that had become so normal in their friendship— Hermione didn't deserve that.
Ron looked at him, shocked, and as Hermione looked up at them.
"Sorry, Hermione," Ron said. "I didn't mean anything."
Hermione turned to Harry, also looking a bit embarrassed, but also a bit pleased. "You think it's commendable?" she asked.
"Yes," Harry confirmed, smiling. "Big word for me, I know, but I knew you'd understand."
She snorted.
A sudden, bright spark drew their attention to Ron, whose wand was out.
"Sorry," he said, looking sheepish. "I was just trying to push the unicorn hair back in but I think it likes having hair."
Harry shook his head. "Ron, you seriously need a new wand. That thing is not safe."
"I can't," Ron said. "Everything I have is a hand-me down. There's no way my mum would say yes."
"I'll give you the seven galleons myself," Harry said, deadly serious.
Ron shook his head. "Mum would never accept it."
"Just break it then," Harry suggested, half serious. That was how Ron had got a replacement last time.
Ron looked scandalized. "Mum would kill me, literally." He paused, looking thoughtful. "But, if you broke it…"
Harry snorted, but Ron was looking at him with a straight face.
"Aren't you worried she'd kill me?" Harry asked, uncertain.
Hermione looked between them, horrified. "You can't be serious, Harry."
Ron shook his head, "You could literally murder me in my sleep and she would still think it was my fault. Trust me, she wouldn't care at all."
Harry considered, finding amusement at Hermione's continued open mouth.
"Alright then. We'll break it before Christmas and I'll give you the galleons for a new one."
Ron's face brightened into a grin. "Thanks, Harry!"
Neville had kept quiet through the whole interaction but spoke up now, "Hey, guys, look. Hagrid's here."
They all turned to see that Hagrid was indeed in the library, skulking around, hiding something behind his back and generally looking suspicious.
"What's he up to?" Ron said, but then quickly looked at Harry. "Not that he can't come to the library if he wants to."
Hagrid noticed them and walked over in a few big strides.
"Alright, you lot?"
"Hi, Hagrid, we're okay. What are you doing here?" Hermione asked.
"Jus' lookin'," he said in a shifty voice. As he looked down at their books spread across the table he frowned. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicholas Flamel, are yeh?"
"What?" Harry said.
Hagrid nodded at Hermione. "Those lot came to me the other week askin' all sorts of questions. I don't know how you even know about Fluffy, either."
Harry turned to his friends, surprised. "You're investigating the third corridor and Flamel?"
Neville looked pained, Ron looked mildly apologetic, and Hermione looked determined. "Yes, we are," she said firmly, but then deflated. "Not that we've made much progress."
Harry frowned. "You shouldn't be getting involved in any of that. Why are you even—"
"That's none of your concern, since you clearly don't want to involve us." Hermione said, sticking her nose up. She turned to Hagrid. "We had a few questions actually, about Nicholas Flamel and whatever Fluffy is guarding—"
"Shhhh!" Hagrid looked around to see if anyone was listening. "Don' just go yelling about it. Yeh should be listening teh Harry here, he's got the right idea of it."
At Hermione's insistent expression he sighed. "Listen, come an' see me later. I make no promise I'll tell yeh anythin', mind you, but don't go rabbitin' about it where anyone can hear. They'll think I told you everythin', and students aren't s'possed to know!"
A moment passed as Hagrid looked at them, nervous.
"We'll see you later, then," Hermione said.
Hagrid shuffled off.
"Wonder what he had behind his back," said Neville.
Harry closed his eyes and sighed. He'd forgot about Norbert. He thought this had happened later in the year, last time. Oh well, nothing to do but deal with that problem once again.
"Maybe it's something to do with Fluffy and Nicholas Flamel! Let's have a look at what he was reading," said Hermione, excited.
Ron and Hermione left their seats to look at the section of books that Hagrid had just been looking at. Harry and a reluctant Neville followed.
"Dragons!" Ron whispered as they approached. "He was looking at dragons! Look: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Northern Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide."
"Hagrid's got a dragon," Harry said, resigned. It had started as such a quiet day.
"He can't, that's illegal!" Ron said. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlock's Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It's impossible to stop muggles from seeing them, let alone how dangerous they can be. Charlie's always turning up with new burns from the ones in Romania."
Hermione put the book she was holding back on the shelf, a challenge in her eyes as she looked at Harry. "Well, there's only one way to find out."
An hour later, Harry reluctantly knocked on Hagrid's door. All the curtains were closed, and smoke poured from the crooked chimney.
"Who is it?" Hagrid called before he let them in quickly. The fire was lit despite the warm day.
Harry looked over to the fireplace, where a large black egg sat atop the blazing fire.
Hagrid bustled about making them tea and serving up a few rock cakes on a little plate. They sat around the table, silent and waiting in response to Hagrid's nervous air.
"So, yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?"
"Yes," said Hermione, wasting no time. "What is Fluffy guarding, and what has it got to do with Nicholas Flamel and Professor Dumbledore?"
Hagrid frowned at her. "I can't tell yeh that."
Harry couldn't think what had gotten into his friends so be so doggedly pursuing this out of nowhere, but he wasn't happy about it.
"Hey Hagrid, what's that?" Harry asked, pointed to the egg sitting in the fireplace.
"Ah," said Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard. "That's— err…"
Neville moved over to get a closer look. "Wow, a real dragon egg! Where did you get it, Hagrid?"
"It must have cost a fortune," Ron added, looking impressed.
"I won it, actually," said Hagrid. "Las' night I was down at the Hog's head havin' a few drinks, like I often do. I got into a game o' cards with this stranger. He seemed quite glad to be rid of it, actually."
"What are you planning on doing with it?" Harry asked, knowing quite well that there was no plan.
"Well I've been doin' a bit o' readin'," Hagrid said, pulling out a large book from under a cushion. He rattled off a list of things young Norbert would need to be hatched and looked after. The expressions on Ron, Hermione, and Neville's faces grew increasingly distressed.
"Hagrid," Hermione exclaimed, "you live in a wooden house."
Hagrid wasn't listening, however. He was humming to himself happily as he piled more wood in the fire.
"Right, you lot, you better get out of here before it gets dark," said Hagrid, standing up from the fireplace.
Harry peeked out the window, it was barely mid-afternoon and the sun shone brightly.
Hagrid busied himself, fetching a huge cut of meat from the wall and shrugging on his moleskin coat.
Ron eyed the steak in Hagrid's hand. "You don't have one hatched already, do you?"
Hagrid laughed. "A dragon, no." He gestured to the steak, "This— this is just for the, uh, thestrals. That's right."
They all eyed Hagrid suspiciously. Harry just sighed and stood up. Hagrid would be Hagrid and there was nothing they could do except make sure he didn't accidentally burn Hogwarts down.
"Well, we'll leave you to it, Hagrid," said Ron.
They filed out the door. Harry turned to Ron, determined to get the rendezvous with Charlie's friends set up as soon as possible. He didn't have time to be worrying about any more dangerous magical creatures.
The day of the Halloween feast had finally arrived. Harry had spent nearly every second of the day with Hermione, and keeping an eye on his friends generally. He was taking no risks with someone disappearing to a toilet somewhere. If any of them had found it weird that Harry insisted on waiting outside the loo whenever they went, nobody said anything. Harry was tense, holding his wand as they walked to the Owlery to send a letter to Charlie, but as they sat down for the feast, with everyone present and accounted for, Harry released a breath, and started to relax.
Halloween decorations covered the Great Hall— thousands of live bats fluttered about the room, flying in circles above the tables in black clouds that made the candles stutter.
Harry glanced up at the top table and paused. Quirrell was sitting there, talking to Professor Flitwick. Harry had failed to notice that. But, Quirrell wasn't supposed to be here, he was meant to be in the dungeons releasing a troll.
The feast appeared suddenly atop golden plates, as it had at the start of term banquet. Harry lost sight of Quirrell amidst the flurry of students who stood to reach for various foods. He turned to his plate and tried to understand what it meant that Quirrell was here. Did that mean his plan had changed? Had he already released the troll and was waiting for someone else to find it? Was he going to do something else entirely?
Harry ate very little, drawing occasional glances from Hermione, who in turn drew a small smile from Harry when she piled an extra portion of potatoes onto his plate. He never ate them though, his every sense on alert as he awaited something.
A loud bang made Harry lurch to his feet, wand drawn. Down the table he saw Fred and George covered in gravy and laughing, some sort of magical toy on the table between them. He looked up at the top table where McGonagall was looking at the twins with undisguised annoyance. He glanced at Quirrell, who was looking at him with an expressionless face. Quirrell inclined his head and Harry looked away, sitting down.
The rest of the banquet passed in uninterrupted merriment, but Harry didn't relax for a second. The feast ended and the students dispersed back to their houses. The entire time, Harry was waiting, ready, for a shout, a scream, or something to come — but nothing did. He went to sleep that night anxious and confused. What was Quirrell up to?
The next day, Harry decided he needed some space to think and clear his mind. After breakfast Harry picked up some of his mother's textbooks and made his way to the seventh floor, as he'd done many times in the last couple of months.
He'd been making his way slowly through sixth year potions, which was a year and class of particular abundance for his mother's note taking.
He sat on a chair beside the fire, forgetting his anxiety as he read Lily's notes about crushing seeds versus chopping them, and the little 'notes to self' she made about meeting up with James, or things to buy in Hogsmeade that weekend. Harry didn't care much about the actual potions his mum was talking about, he was just captivated by the personality that shone through the meticulous, almost diary-esque sprawl that filled the margins of her books. Using any excuse to draw his wand, Harry also did some practice on the bubble-head charm, which Lily had written was a vital skill for any potioneer. Harry managed to get it down after a few tries.
Eventually, Harry's stomach was rumbling so loudly he was too distracted to continue, so he packed up his books and headed for the door. He thought he might go to the kitchens today. Ron, Hermione, and Neville had been a bit shifty recently, and Harry really didn't want to keep discussing whatever they'd decided he was 'keeping from them.' It was getting quite frustrating.
Harry closed the door behind him quickly, wary of anyone seeing him.
As he stepped into the corridor he wrinkled his nose. Something smelled awful.
The floor beneath him shuddered rhythmically, as if something huge and heavy was walking nearby. Harry palmed his wand, suspicion and dread pooling in his gut.
A scream reverberated though the corridor; a familiar scream. Harry sprinted towards the noise, hand on the wall to steady himself as he turned the corner. He stopped, the back of a huge troll blocking his path.
"Harry!" Hermione called to him. She was trapped in a dead-end with the troll blocking the entrance to the staircase nearby. She backed away until there was nothing but wall behind her.
The troll stepped forwards, and Harry fired a stupify into its back. The troll didn't even notice.
Harry panicked as the giant creature lifted its huge wooden club above its head and roared at a cowering Hermione.
"Reducto!" Harry bellowed, sending an overpowered blasting curse into the back of the beast's leg. It wobbled slightly and paused, turning to look at Harry.
"That's right, you big idiot!" Harry yelled at it, waving his arms. "Come over here!"
"Harry no!" Hermione called.
The troll turned back to Hermione, starting to lift its club once again.
"Diffindo" Harry shouted, shooting a cutting curse at the troll's arm. The spell hissed as it collided with the thick hide, but the troll didn't pay it any attention.
Harry's heart nearly stopped as the club descended, and he acted on pure instinct with the first spell that came to mind.
"Accio!"
The club descended on Hermione, and just as it was about to hit her, parallel to the ground, it flew backwards out of the troll's hand towards Harry. The troll stumbled forwards as the sudden absence of the big club unbalanced it. Harry's heart heart leapt for a moment, before he realised that although disarmed, the troll was now within touching distance of Hermione.
The troll grabbed Hermione by the hair and turned. She screamed.
Harry didn't even think as he dropped his mother's wand, grabbed his yew wand from his robe, and simply performed the spell he had been practicing all day, every day, for months.
The huge club, which Harry had been floating in front of him, flew with a rushing hiss of air towards Hermione and the troll, transforming mid-flight from a large wooden stick into a terribly sharp rod of steel.
There was a deafening crack of stone that made Harry wince. He waved his yew wand to clear the cloud of dust that his banishing charm had whipped up.
He heard a gasp.
Rushing up the stairs to his right was Professor McGonagall, closely followed by Ron, Neville, and Snape, who was limping. Harry quickly pocketed his mother's wand, which was still on the floor, and rushed over to Hermione, who was scurrying away from the wall on her hands and knees. He helped herup and held her as she clutched onto him tightly.
He looked over her shaking shoulder at the troll, which was impaled through the chest with the giant needle, toes hovering just above the floor as it's considerable weight was pinned against the stone wall.
"Mr Potter! Miss Granger! What is going on here?" McGonagall spluttered, wand out and pointed at the now very dead troll.
"There was a troll," Harry said, gesturing to the hanging creature. "It had cornered Hermione…"
Snape turned to Ron and Neville who were pale faced and staring alternately between Harry and the troll. "How did it get into the school?" Snape asked, as if expecting Ron to say 'we let it in ourselves'.
"I have no idea," said Ron. "We were just coming up the stairs and it was here. Hermione got trapped, so we ran to find someone."
Snape turned to Harry. "And how exactly did it end up with a spear through it's chest?"
"Uh, transfiguration," Harry said, hesitantly. He looked at McGonagall, "The troll had a big wooden club, and I—"
McGonagall lowered her wand with raised eyebrows. "And you transfigured it into a needle." She looked shocked, but gave him a look that Harry could only discern as pride. "That is an incredible feat, Mr Potter, even given your regular practice." She gestured to the giant rod sticking out of the troll, "This is an advanced piece of magic. However did it end up embedded in the wall?"
"A banishing charm?" Harry offered.
Snape looked surprised. "Just a banishing charm?"
Harry nodded.
They all turned as the sound of many approaching feet echoed up the stairwell. A herd of students soon appeared, running up the steps, with Professor Flitwick running as fast as he could at the head. His attempts to halt them clearly hadn't worked and he huffed, out of breath. Shouts broke out as people reached the top and saw the troll, as well as Harry standing nearby holding a shaking Hermione with his wand in his hand.
Harry sighed.
The crowd of students parted to allow a sobbing Hagrid through. He reached the top of the stairs and heaved a huge sigh of relief as he saw Harry and Hermione standing there. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I never thought he'd be able to escape, let alone threaten anybody. He just looked such a mess, I couldn't leave 'im—"
"Hagrid!" McGonagall called, grasping the man's arm. "What are you saying? Did you let this troll in to the castle?"
Hagrid let out another sob. "I didn' mean to, Professor. I was keepin' him in the Forbidden Forest after I found him injured an' lost. I never thought he'd get out to the castle. He got free somehow."
Hagrid turned, and seeing the troll dead on the wall broke down into more sobs.
McGonagall looked furious, but was interrupted by Professor Quirrell, who had walked up the stairs in Hagrid's wake.
Harry grit his teeth at the sight of him.
Quirrell's acting was perfect, his face going through shock, confusion, and concern as he took in the scene before him. He turned to the students gathered behind him.
"Off you go, everyone. Yes, I know," he said over the grumbles, "this is very interesting, but if you enjoy having your evenings free of detention I would start moving very soon." The noise picked up again as everyone struggled to head back down the stairs. Quirrell turned back to them and nodded at McGonagall's thanks.
"I see someone has done my job for me," Quirrell said. He turned to Snape, "Is this your work, Severus?"
Snape sneered at Quirrell, "No. Mr Potter is responsible for saving the day."
Quirrell turned to Harry, surprise written on his features. He eyed Harry's yew wand, which was still held firm in his grip. "Truly?" He inspected the troll. "Did you conjure this spear? Or take it from one of the suits of armour, perhaps?"
"He transfigured it," said McGonagall, pride once again colouring her tone, "from a wooden club the troll carried."
Quirrell inspected the steel rod closer, "Ah yes, I see. An excellent solution, and a very powerful banisher, I suppose. How did you manage to disarm it? Expelliarmus would never work against the troll's natural resistances."
"The levitation charm, perhaps?" Flitwick offered, looking at Harry.
Harry smiled at the Professor. "Summoning charm, sir. The troll was already swinging the club so I didn't have much choice."
The Professor's all looked impressed.
"That's quite an advanced spell, especially in the context," Professor Flitwick said happily. "Very well done, Mr. Potter. I must give you ten house points for that."
McGonagall looked at him, her mouth twitching into a smile. "And a further ten house points for the most impressive and timely matchstick to needle transfiguration I've ever seen."
Harry smiled at her, reading the unsaid 'certainly not timid, Mr. Potter' in her conspiratorial look.
Hermione had stopped shaking and extricated herself from Harry's arms. She looked over her shoulder at the troll.
"Perhaps Miss Granger and Mr Potter should be seen to the infirmary," Snape suggested.
Harry made to complain but he saw that Hermione was looking quite pale, and there was blood on her robes — hers or the troll's he wasn't sure.
"We'll take them, Professor," Neville said. Hermione looked at him gratefully.
"Yes, absolutely. Off you go now. Are you able to manage getting there, Miss. Granger?" McGonagall asked.
Hermione nodded, "Y—yes, Professor, I'm okay."
Ron came and joined Harry, on the other side of Hermione, and hovered his hand over her arm in case she needed help. They made their way towards the stairs.
Harry heard McGonagall speak behind him. "Can I leave you to deal with this, Professor?"
Quirrell replied, "Of course."
"Hagrid, come with me please. Professor Dumbledore will need to hear about this," said McGonagall.
Harry turned to see a despondent Hagrid nod and follow McGonagall out of sight. Harry turned back to steady himself against the banister and continued to help Hermione down the stairs.
They reached the bottom where a smattering of students were hovering, clearly trying to listen in to the conversation that had continued above. They stared at Harry and Hermione as they passed. Harry tried to smother the sparks of anger that were threatening to ignite. Hermione had nearly died, again. If Harry hadn't been there…
Then Harry had a thought. Surely this was no coincidence. Quirrell was clearly responsible again, but this time instead of trying to simply create a distraction, he had set the troll loose in the seventh floor corridor of all places. As far as Harry knew, only he really ventured there with any regularity, because of the Room of Requirement. It had been an attempt on his life.
Quirrell's surprised face flashed in his mind and Harry clenched his free fist in anger. He should have jumped on that bastard when he'd had the chance.
As they walked the halls to the infirmary, Harry tried to ignore the stares and whispers that followed them. He could hear his name in almost every single conversation they passed. Ron, Neville, and Hermione were whispering to his right, but Harry couldn't escape his thoughts enough to listen in. His mind was remembering his first ever Quidditch match, and the curse that had almost bucked him off his broom. He knew Quirrell would not pass up the opportunity at the upcoming match this time around either, but he couldn't bring himself to feel any fear through the anger that was consuming him right now. He wanted Quirrell to come for him. He and Sirius had a plan, and Harry was desperately looking forward to being on the front foot for once, rather than wondering when the next strike would come.