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writingmyselfout · 5 months

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Because I Could Not Stop for Death - Chapter Twelve

Language: English

Rating: Teen+

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter

Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, Reptilia28′s Don’t Fear the Reaper Challenge, Manipulative Dumbledore, Black Hermione Granger, Slight Ron Weasley Bashing, Actually Redeemed Snape

Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

Chapter Twelve: Everybody Make a Scene

Summary: Even inner House friendships are hard.

DRACO is burning with curiosity all the way to Professor Snape’s office, wondering what Harry could have meant about “officially” getting detention as well. Madam Hooch, upon her return, had asked for Potter’s whereabouts and with the students all speaking over each other to explain, she had dismissed them all before informing him, Ron Weasley, and Tobias O’Bannion that she would be speaking with Professor McGonagall to get a clearer picture of what had transpired while she was gone, so they were going to have detention and if the need for additional punishment was determined, they would be informed at a later date. They would also lose 5 points each per House, which Draco was unhappy about for all of a moment before realizing that it meant Gryffindor lost more points than Slytherin anyway.

He supposes that this meeting with Snape is in regards to this detention. He likes his Head of House and thinks the students from other Houses simply don’t like that he takes Slytherin’s side over theirs the way many other professors do. That being said, everyone knows how much he dislikes hearing they’ve been caught misbehaving, particularly in classes with the other Houses, as he wishes for them to always maintain the dignity of their House. If anything is going to get him in trouble, it is misbehaving in a class with Gryffindor and losing House points as a result.

When he reaches the professor’s study, he knocks and is told to come in. Professor Snape is seated at his desk, writing, but he puts his quill down as Draco enters. He motions for him to come over and sit, and only once he has, does he ask for an explanation of the day’s events. Draco obediently explains the events that transpired, ensuring he is being brief as, based on the way their Potions class is conducted, he’s determined that Professor Snape can be much like his father in these instances. He does not want excuses or explanations, he wants the important points, and nothing more.

“Getting onto your broom, against Madam Hooch’s explicit instructions to keep your feet firmly planted on the ground, was a lapse in judgment on your part that I hope to not see you repeat,” Professor Snape lectures once Draco is finished recounting the events. “However, as it was in response to Mr. Weasley’s clear instigation, I find myself not particularly inclined to punish you to the same degree. Your loss of points is punishment enough. I am changing your detention to a study hall session, to be served with me, where I expect you to do the homework you would otherwise be doing in your dorm.”

“Understood, Professor. Thank you, sir.” Draco tries to stifle a grin, knowing full well that Professor McGonagall is much stricter than the Potions master with her own students, so it is highly unlikely that Weasley and O’Bannion will get out of detention. Which reminds him that Potter somehow may have, and reignites his curiosity. “Will that be all, sir?”

“Yes. I will escort you back to your dorm, Malfoy. Would not want Filch to think you are wandering about without permission.”

He has a point. The first years are discouraged from being out after dinner unless they are serving detention or, like this, with a professor as their curfew is the earliest of all the years. It is frustrating, but even if he were to refuse, the professor’s own quarters are somewhere down in the dungeons so he’s likely going in that direction anyway. At least this way, Draco can be sure he won’t run into the professor on his way back from the library, as he’ll have already turned in for the evening.

En route, the professor asks after his parents, and he imparts what he has gleaned from their letters. He takes the opportunity to ask some questions about Potions, as well as Defense Against the Dark Arts, as Professor Quirrell is a disaster of a teacher. All of Slytherin knows that their Head of House appreciates intelligent students who take advantage that their Head of House is knowledgeable in multiple fields, especially if it is likely to improve their ability to answer questions and complete work in class. As his mother would say, it never hurts to keep on the good side of those who would best assist his growth here at Hogwarts.

“You have a good evening, Draco. I trust that I shall not hear you have lost us more House points again.”

“No, sir,” Draco promises. “Have a good night.”

Snape nods his head and turns to go further into the dungeons. Draco provides the password required to get the stone wall to open and allow him into the Slytherin common room. He steps in, allowing it to close behind him, and then steps to the side. He makes a show of looking through his bag, in reality wanting only to allow enough time to be sure the professor is no longer in the hall, then he asks Theodore to drop his school bag on his desk while he returns to the professor’s office to grab something he’d left behind.

Harry is being shooed out of the library and told to get back to his dorm by Madam Pince when Draco finally arrives. “There you are!”

“Sorry, Professor Snape insisted on taking me back to the dorm,” Draco explains, trying to catch his breath. “Now, what did you want to tell me?”

“Right, but you have to promise not to say a word to anyone,” Harry says gravely. “If Professor McGonagall finds out I’ve told anyone, she’ll definitely rethink punishing me for today.” He then goes on to explain how rather than scold him, she had taken him to meet the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and he’d been allowed to try-out for the Seeker position they are trying to fill.

“Good thing you gave me that Quidditch book,” Harry finishes with a grin. “If I get the spot, I won’t seem completely out of place.”

“Yes, well, you’re welcome,” responds Draco with a grunt, obviously jealous. “Ugh, if only Slytherin’s team had an opening, I could use this to get them to let me try out too. You have to admit, my flying today was pretty amazing, right?”

Harry agreed, admitting he’d been impressed with Draco’s ability to maneuver around Weasley and O’Bannion. They had all done their bit of bragging, and while it had been clear that none of them were new to being on a broom, the Gryffindors had been visibly clumsier than the Slytherin. Draco’s pride was not misplaced, and it made Harry wonder how his own abilities might compare. It would be fun to figure out one day.

“Where are we going, by the way?” Draco asks.

“I wanted to see if Neville was still in the Hospital Wing,” Harry says. “Sides, you have to head back down anyway.”

“True. Are you going to get your own broom, or are they going to make you use the garbage school ones?”

They start talking about possible brooms the rest of the way, getting so engrossed that Harry has walked halfway down the marble staircase to the ground floor before he realizes he needs to go back to the first to get to the Hospital Wing. He stops there with Draco, reminding him he needs to go to the Hospital Wing before promising that he’ll try to remember to talk to McGonagall about trying to get the new Nimbus, if possible, even if it means pulling from his vault at Gringotts. He doesn’t remember what they cost, but he’s confident he has more than enough to get one in there. They are getting ready to say goodbye when the doors from outside open and in comes a group of Slytherin students all holding brooms.

Harry realizes this must be the Slytherin Quidditch team, and he looks them over, wondering who among them is the Seeker for the team. They all glance over at the two of them, but ignore them as they head for the dungeon entrance, with the exception of a tall, muscular boy who raises an eyebrow and comes over in their direction. His dark brow is prominent, even more so with the scowl on his face, as it closes the very small gap between his hairy eyebrows so it appears as one big unibrow, and his teeth are distractingly crooked.

“On a date, Malfoy?” he asks. “You would do well to keep away from the likes of Potter and his lot. Wouldn’t want to turn into a blood traitor, now would we?”

Harry isn’t sure what exactly a “blood traitor” is supposed to be, but it’s obviously an insult based on the way this boy says it, and by the scowl it elicits out of Draco, who responds with an anger-filled, “Watch what you say, Flint.”

“Or what? Li’l first year’s gonna go running to mummy and daddy?” Flint mocks, laughing.

Next to him, Draco’s eyes narrow, and he looks like he’s about to go down the stairs towards the older boy, but Harry grabs his arm. The boy is easily twice their size, so even without the possibility of magic they have yet to learn, he could probably easily trounce them.

“How long do you think it took him to come up with that, Draco?” Harry asks instead, falling back on the one thing he always had over his more physically intimidating cousin. If this kid was anything like Dudley, he was probably as dumb as he was strong. “He clearly couldn’t wait to share it with you.”

It works to at least give Draco a moment to come to his senses, who takes a breath as if to calm himself down before he says, “Good question, but I’ve a better one. Hey Flint, after meeting your mother, I’ve always wondered: what is it like?”

“What?” Flint scowls, eyes narrowing at the question.

“What is it like being a half troll? After all, it doesn’t seem to have done you any good in looks or intelligence.”

“Why you little-”

They don’t stick around to hear the rest, or for Flint to come up the stairs. Harry and Draco take off running back up the stairs and down the first floor hall, Draco laughing uproariously at having made his housemate so angry. They head for the stairs to continue up to the second floor, the sounds of Flint yelling still behind them, so that they try to pick up speed hoping they can get far enough away to slip out of view.

Harry is just thinking that they should have tried to get to the Hospital Wing, where they might have been able to get safely under the watchful eye of a staff member, when he spots two familiar figures ahead. Hermione and Neville seem to be heading up to Gryffindor Tower, and when the sound of quick footsteps reach them, they turn around and share similarly shocked faces at seeing the two boys barreling towards them.

“Harry? Wha-” Hermione starts.

“No time!” Harry interrupts, grabbing her arm to pull her along.

“Move it, Longbottom!” Draco calls out.

“GET BACK HERE!”

The sound of Flint yelling down the hall gets the other two moving as well, and soon the four of them are running together up to the third floor. Harry starts to turn in the direction of the stairs to the fourth floor when he spots Mrs. Norris and he makes an abrupt about face. They can’t afford to have her following them, giving them away to Flint or worse, going off to find Filch. Everyone knew that the caretaker and his cat had an understanding, and she was his partner in crime when it came to catching students being in places or doing things that they shouldn’t. If they were lucky, Flint would run into her instead.

When they reach the Trophy Room, they duck inside and stop, all of them doubling over to catch their breaths. Harry stays near the entryway, keeping an ear out in case he hears the sounds of Flint heading in their direction.

“Wh-Wh-WHAT was that all about?” Hermione demands between breaths. “Shouldn’t you two be in the dorms already, especially after all the trouble you got in earlier? Are you trying to get expelled?”

“Oh, quiet, Granger,” Draco responds, straightening though his chest is still heaving. “Harry didn’t get in trouble at all; he was allowed to try out for the Quidditch team.”

She blinks at this information, surprised, while Neville gives his breathless congratulations. She recovers quickly enough, though, as she then says, “So that’s reason enough to be out after curfew? It’s very selfish of you, both of you, to just do as you please without regards to the rest of your Housemates.”

“Who-”

Harry cuts Draco off with a shush, emphasizing it with a wave of his hand, indicating that he can hear someone just outside. The voices are muffled, though, and he can’t tell if it’s Flint or someone else, but they seem to be getting gradually closer. He motions for them to go through the Trophy Room, into the adjacent room, which turns out to be an Armor Gallery. They make their way through quietly, occasionally looking over their shoulders and listening out for the possibility that the voices have gone into the Trophy Room, when Neville knocks into an armor. He tries, desperately, to keep it from falling over but only manages to hold onto a gauntlet as the rest topples over.

There’s a shocked silence as they all jump, staring at where it has fallen, and then they clearly hear not a student, but Filch yell out for them to stay where they are.

“Run!” Draco hisses, taking the lead and making a beeline for the opposite door from whence they came.

Neville drops the gauntlet and all three Gryffindors are hot on Draco’s heels, running as far away as they can from the Hogwarts caretaker. Harry quickly catches up to Draco as they hurl down one corridor after another, coming across a tapestry that they tear through to find themselves in a hidden passageway that spits them out not far from the Charms classroom. It’s pretty far from the Trophy Room, and so they all stop again to catch their breath.

“I think–” Harry finally manages to say, though his chest is still heaving with the effort to catch his breath, “--we finally lost ‘em.”

Neville is sputtering and wheezing, and it’s only now that Harry notices that the wrist he’d injured in class seems to be fine. He points it out, and Neville tells him between gasps that Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts matron, had fixed him up in no time but kept him resting in the Hospital Wing due to his anxiety.

“Glad you’re feeling better, mate,” Harry says. He straightens and looks around, getting his bearings before he starts to head down the corridor. “Think we should try to get back to the dorms before we’re caught.”

“Finally, a sensible plan,” Hermione mutters, but they’ve barely started walking again when they hear the sounds of voices at the end of the hall.

“Now what?” Draco whines.

At first, they think it might be Filch, as he often talks aloud to Mrs. Norris while he patrols. The second voice is clearly Peeves, his teasing sing-song voice easily distinguishable. When the first voice is raised in anger, Draco and Harry immediately recognize it as Flint, though they can only make out his yelling at the poltergeist to get out of his way. As always, antagonizing Peeves is never the right move, and his response to being yelled at is to raise the alarm that a student is out of bed. It is guaranteed to bring Mrs. Norris, with or without Filch, to investigate, and the group immediately backtracks to find somewhere to hide lest they get caught up in the trouble.

The need to hide becomes more urgent when they hear running footsteps that seem to be getting closer, and it occurs to all of them that Flint may also be looking for somewhere to hide from the caretaker. They pick up the pace, trying to remain quiet, but come upon a locked door. Harry, who is in front, pulls at it uselessly before Hermione shoves him aside, pulling her wand out to cast the Unlocking Charm they’d just learned that day. They tumble in, Harry pushing the door closed and twisting the lock on it as soon as Neville is through, and then he leans against it to try and listen. Hermione leans against it next to him to listen, forcing Draco to crouch down in front of Harry to do the same.

It means that when someone–surely Flint–throws themselves against it to try and open it, they all jump back in surprise, Hermione bringing her hands up to cover the yelp she nearly lets out. There’s a moment of fear, wondering if like they had just done, the older boy will use the Unlocking Charm to try to get in and find them, except it never happens. Harry tentatively leans back against the door, just in time to hear Filch’s voice. There’s a tug on his sleeve, but Harry shakes the hand off, trying to listen.

“Marcus Flint, think the Headmaster’s rules don’t apply to you, eh? Well, we’ll see what Professor Snape thinks about you being in the forbidden corridor.”

Harry’s eyes go wide with surprise, and this time when he feels the tug on his sleeve, he looks over to find Neville is the one pulling at his robe. His face is pale, eyes wide, but he’s looking at something behind Harry. He turns to look, and finds himself looking at an impossible creature: a dog with three heads, towering over them all, all three bearing their teeth as they growl. Harry thinks they must have caught it by surprise, perhaps it had been sleeping before they had so abruptly come barging in, but regardless it was clear that it was not welcoming their presence.

Without taking his eyes off of them, his hand gropes along the door trying to find the lock so he can undo it and let them out. Sure, Filch taking them to Professor McGonagall would definitely lead to punishment, maybe even to her revoking his recruitment to the Quidditch team. Maybe he’d even be expelled! At least he would be alive and in one piece.

While it feels like forever, in truth it takes him mere seconds to find and undo the lock, then he’s pulling the door open and the four of them are collectively falling over each other to get out of the room. Draco, who manages to not fall over when Neville topples out and knocks into Harry, slams the door shut. He pulls his wand out with a shaking hand, but then stands there staring at the door without doing anything. It’s as if he is waiting for the dog to somehow open the door to follow them, but although it had been clearly growling when they were inside, from outside no noise can be heard.

“W-W-We should g-g-go,” Neville stammers, scrambling to his feet, and the others nod.

Harry bids Draco good night, and then they all take off running, wanting to put distance between themselves and the three-headed dog as well as avoid the possibility of running into Filch once he is done dragging Marcus Flint to Snape.

Back in the Gryffindor Tower, Harry, Neville, and Hermione get into the common room and collapse into the chairs in front of the fire. It’s still early enough that there are still people sitting at tables, talking, playing games, and working on homework, but although they draw attention to themselves by bursting into the room, sweaty and out of breath, they are quickly forgotten in favor of other activities.

“What could they be thinking, keeping a dog like that in a school ?” Harry asks once he’s caught his breath, though he keeps his voice low to avoid being overheard.

“N-N-No idea,” Neville responds. “M-Maybe it’s why i-it’s f-f-forbidden to go th-there?”

Hermione huffs, annoyance clear in every line of her body. ““You don’t use your eyes, either of you, do you?” she snaps. “Did you not see what it was standing on?”

Harry, who finds himself at the end of his patience with her, replies sarcastically, “I don’t know, the floor ? I was a little busy watching its three heads , in case you didn’t notice.”

“ No , not the floor ,” she says witheringly, glaring at him. “It was standing on a trap door; it’s guarding something, clearly.” She stands up, giving him a withering look. “I hope you’re happy. You could have gotten us killed, or worse–expelled. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to bed. Good night.”

The last is said in such a way that Harry is sure she means quite the opposite, but he doesn’t respond as he watches her stomp away. Sure, maybe he and Draco could have ignored them and kept going on their own, but he didn’t know if Marcus Flint would have seen them and demanded they tell him in which direction they’d seen them go. Or if he would have instead taken out his anger and frustration on them. Not that she seems to care about that possibility; she was too busy being judgemental and calling him selfish. Well, he wasn’t going to apologize for trying to protect his friends.

~~~

Things are noticeably frosty between Harry and Hermione beginning immediately the next day. In fact, Hermione refuses to even look at him or acknowledge his presence in any way. She greets Neville like normal, but otherwise pretends Harry isn’t there, and sits elsewhere for breakfast. Harry doesn’t care, taking the first opportunity to instead talk to Draco about the trapdoor.

He reminds him and Neville of their conversation following their visit to Hagrid’s hut, regarding his birthday trip to Diagon Alley. If the three-headed dog was guarding something, chances were high that it was whatever Hagrid had pulled from the vault he’d emptied. It made perfect sense, but now begged the question of what it might be that required such a creature to stand guard over it, quite literally! Neville was less keen to find out, stating he rather hoped to never go near the dog again. Draco rather agreed, except he too was as curious as Harry.

For a week, most of their conversations center around the many possibilities regarding this treasure worth guarding. It serves to distract Harry from the try-outs that take place over the course of that week, which he’d been allowed to watch under the guise of serving one of his detention. In actuality, it had more or less been a real detention as Madam Hooch had made him help her clean and trim the school brooms. But he doesn’t want to admit he’s nervous about possibly not getting the spot to an older student, all of whom to his inexperience eyes had seemed just as qualified if not more so, with few exceptions. So instead, he encourages Neville and Draco to consider what is being hidden in the school, so that they spend countless conversations throwing out and discarding various ideas, until they ultimately decide that something as mundane as jewels and expensive magic items that can easily be bought wouldn’t warrant someone attempting to steal it from Gringotts. By the Friday the following week, they’ve exhausted all possibilities they can think of, and if it weren’t for the fact that they still are not speaking, Harry would ask Hermione for her thoughts on the matter.

That morning, however, gives them something new to think over. The morning mail delivery begins as usual, except for a large package carried by six owls, drawing the attention of everyone in the Great Hall. Harry watches it, intrigued, as surprised as everyone else when it’s brought directly to him. He blinks in surprise, staring at it as another owl brings a letter that it unceremoniously drops on top of the package before flying off again. He tears it open to find a professionally typed letter, the letterhead for which reads “Quality Quidditch Supplies”, which read:

Mr. Harry Potter, Please find enclosed the Nimbus Two-Thousand ordered by your guardian, Hogwarts Deputy Headmistress Professor Minerva McGonagall, on your behalf. She requested the following message be included with your purchase: Congratulations on becoming the Gryffindor Quidditch Team’s new Seeker. Please be sure to keep your new broom out of sight; wouldn’t want your classmates getting jealous. Speak with Oliver Wood when you receive this for the practice schedule. We at Quality Quidditch Supplies thank you for your business. We humbly request you and your guardian review our endorsement proposal, enclosed with this letter, and get back to us at your earliest convenience.

Neville, who had been reading over his shoulder, gasps. “A Ni-”

“Shh,” Harry hisses, slapping a hand over the boy’s mouth. “Not here. Let’s go.” Harry doesn’t bother skimming the rest of the letter before shoving it into his bag. Chances are high that Professor McGonagall already turned their offer down on his behalf, and she was likely to be very displeased that they’d sent him the package to arrive with the morning post, as it seemed she would have preferred it be kept secret. He had seen others receive things from their owls in their dorms after classes, in the afternoons before dinner, or even in the evenings afterwards. Nothing for it now, though, except to get out of the Great Hall as soon as possible.

Snatching it up, he gets up with the other boy scrambling behind him to follow. Across the hall, he catches Draco watching them, an eyebrow raised in question. Jerking his head towards the doors, he heads out the door expecting the blonde to follow suit.

“You get the position? Is that your broom?” Draco asks, as soon as he catches up to them outside of the Great Hall.

“It’s a Nimbus Two-Thousand!” Neville declares as Harry nods yes to both questions, impressed despite his own continued fear of flying.

The previous day’s class, for example, had seen him much too afraid of back on the broom, much less re-attempting the kick off he’d botched the week before. Harry had tried to help him, explaining as best he can what to do, but as Madam Hooch had declared him among those not needing further lessons, he can only help outside of class now. Hermione had looked annoyed to be told that she would benefit from another lesson, but Harry thinks that at least it means Neville will have her around the next class to help. After all, she’s not mad at him , so it’s only Harry she’s giving the cold shoulder to right now.

“Nice! What are you waiting for? Open it!”

Harry looks around, but makes no move to remove the wrapping around the broom. “Professor McGonagall’s note said she didn’t want others seeing the broom just yet,” he explains.

“Tsk.” Draco huffs, making it clear how he feels about it. “Would have been nice seeing Flint’s reaction. I overheard him and some of the Slytherins talking about how good of a broom it seems.”

Harry was sure that anything that might annoy the other Slytherin would make his friend happy. From his understanding, Marcus Flint had started attempting to bully Malfoy when their Head of House wasn’t around, but upon realizing how much the younger Slytherin enjoyed Quidditch, had gone instead to talking about how he would never put him on the team. It had crushed Draco realizing that he would either have to appease the fifth year student the rest of the year and into the next, when a position would open up with this year’s seventh year Seeker graduating, or give up on getting recruited until after Flint has graduated himself.

“Anyway, you had better go put it away quickly, if you’re going to,” he says, waving Harry on. “If you’re late to Potions, Professor Snape will have your head.”

“Good point,” Harry concedes.

He tells them both to go back and finish breakfast, and that if anyone asks, to tell them that he refused to open it and so they aren’t sure what it is and give whatever wild speculation they think might throw people off. Neville opts instead to go with Harry, explaining as they go that he doesn’t think he can handle it if everyone bombards him with questions.

In his own words, “I think I would get too flustered and I might let out that you’re the new Seeker, or that you’ve gotten a broom.”

They’ve just reached the first floor when they run into Professor Flitwick, who notes the package and congratulates Harry, as he’s been made aware of the special circumstances regarding his recruitment from Professor McGonagall. He asks after what type of broom he’s gotten, and seems genuinely pleased with hearing Harry’s gotten the best on the market. With no one else around by the two Gryffindor, he confides in a low voice that he looks forward to a team giving Slytherin a run for the Quidditch Cup this year. Harry thanks him, beaming with pride.

Saying goodbye to the Charms teacher, they’re caught off-guard when someone asks, “I suppose you’re pleased with yourself, getting rewarded for breaking the rules?”

Harry turns to find Hermione approaching, scowling at the package in his hand. It’s clear she heard at least some of the exchange with Professor Flitwick and knows what he’s holding. “I thought you weren’t speaking to me,” Harry reminds her, frowning. He takes her comment to mean his getting the position of Seeker, which he wasn’t just given . He’d been a nervous wreck all week, and the fact that she can’t even offer a congratulations hurts.

“Um, guys, d-don’t fight.” Neville looks nervously between them. He’s uncomfortable with them fighting, and feels helpless as to how he can help them make up with each other.

Not that Hermione gives him a chance to say anything, as she turns her nose up and walks away from both of them, heading down the stairs they just ascended. Harry huffs, annoyed at her inability to be happy for him, and goes to put his broom away. He hides it under the pillows of his bed, not wanting to risk the curiosity of any of his dorm mates getting the best of them so that they try to peek at what’s inside. Then, both boys take off running to ensure they arrive at the Potions classroom on time, albeit out of breath.

It’s a struggle for Harry to actually pay attention. Much as he likes Snape and wants to do well in the subject, his mind keeps wandering. He’s likened Potions in his mind to cooking back at home at the Dursleys’ place, only with much stricter recipes and cooking instructions. He thinks someone like Professor Snape, a master in the field, is probably much like a chef, who can make adjustments on the fly to get the desired result, but a novice like him had better pay attention. And he tries, he really does, but he still finds himself daydreaming about the broom upstairs enough that he adds the ingredients in the wrong order not once, but twice, so that he’s instructed to come back after lunch to redo his potion from scratch, and given an extra assignment of writing an essay to explain why the order of ingredients for this particular potion is necessary.

Neville at lunch tries to use the essay as a nudge for Harry to try to make amends with Hermione, with the reasoning that if anyone can help him with the explanation, it would be her, but he refuses to entertain the idea. She’ll want an apology or for him to admit she was right about his behavior the week prior, and he refuses to do either. He says he’ll talk to Percy and ask for his help instead, and then tells Neville to drop it.

The only bonus is that having to essentially do an extra two hours of Potion after lunch makes the afternoon go by much quicker. Oliver Wood caught him on his way back to the dungeons to explain that their practice would be late as Hufflepuff’s team was using the pitch in the afternoon for their practice, and so they wanted to avoid them seeing Harry coming down. He would be their secret weapon, and as such, the goal was to keep anyone from finding out about him for as long as possible.

To that end, the twins end up serving as a distraction, playing a prank on Percy that has the common room in an uproar. Harry uses that time to sneak out with his new broom, Neville following as he’d promised Draco not to open it until the three of them were together. They meet outside the castle, and by the light of their wands, he unwraps the Nimbus Two-Thousand. They gush over it, with Draco explaining in much finer detail than either Harry or Neville could on all the ways the broom is an innovation over its predecessors, and then he extracts a promise from him to let him try it out for himself at some point in the future, once all the secrecy of his position is over and done with.

Harry had worried that Draco’s loyalty to his House would mean him telling them about Gryffindor’s new Seeker, but Draco had said that while it was tempting, because he does want his House to win both the Quidditch Cup and the House Cup, he also rather liked the idea of Marcus Flint losing face in front of everyone. After all, if he tries to get mad that Draco hasn’t said anything, he can point to the fact that even those in Gryffindor weren’t aware of their new Seeker, and he can’t possibly expect Draco to magically know something that Harry has managed to keep from his own Housemates.

It’s a perfect excuse, considering that keeping the secret turns out to be the hardest thing Harry’s ever done. Oliver suggests after practice that he hide the broom in McGonagall’s office, considering the difficulty of hiding it in a shared dorm, and Harry’s glad upon his return to Gryffindor that he’d agreed. His roommates all want to know what the package was, some even speculating that it was a broom, but he quickly denies it, saying instead that it was a series of things that he’d bought for his Muggle relatives back home. It’s a lie none of them can possibly refute, considering that he never speaks of his family, and so none of them are aware of his actual relationship with them. Or the fact that they would never accept anything from the wizarding world.

The next few weeks are a whirlwind of classes, homework, and practices. They never practice before seven, as by then nearly everyone is busy with schoolwork and studying so they are not out and about. If anyone asks about his whereabouts, he lies and says that due to his actions during the first Flying Class, he has multiple detentions with Professor McGonagall, to be served either with her or Hagrid, and as both Ron and Tobias were vocal about how miserable it was, no one questions it. In fact, they seem sympathetic, which seems to further annoy Hermione, although she never disabuses anyone of the lie.

Sometimes, particularly when he’s struggling with some of their reading assignments, Harry wishes they were still speaking. Hermione’s ability to explain things so they are easier to understand, and he thinks he would have a much easier time getting the work done so he can get more sleep each night, but he’s too stubborn and prideful to make the first move. Even if he does miss her company. Instead, he relies more on Percy, who is smart but not necessarily the most engaging tutor.

Turns out that as a fellow fifth year, he and Oliver are friends. When the Quidditch Captain catches Harry falling asleep over an assignment, he talks to the prefect, letting him in on the secret of their newest recruit and requesting that he try and help the first year so he doesn’t fall behind due to the practices. Much as Professor McGonagall may want the team to do well, their studies would always take precedence, and he fears that she would pull the new Seeker off the team if his grades seem at all affected by the constant practices.

Still, Harry finds that for the first time in his life, he’s genuinely happy. Classes are challenging, but he can study and put his all without having to worry that he might upstage Dudley by doing well. Perhaps he’s not the best student–that is undoubtedly Hermione, who never seems stumped by the material–but he’s certainly not the worst. Plus, overall, he likes his Housemates even if he’s not particularly friends with the other half of the boys of his year. His friendship with Draco has them believing he’d be better off in Slytherin, but he thinks they’ll change their tunes once the first Quidditch match comes around.

Before he knows it, Halloween is upon them, marking two months since term began. The older students are abuzz with excitement, telling the first years all about the feast to come that evening. Most teachers also have a tendency of either teaching something tied to Halloween, or something fun to match the mood of the students. Professor Quirrel, in Defense Against the Dark Arts, uses his lesson to stutteringly explain how Eastern European wizards of the late seventeenth century helped the spread vampire lore among Muggles so as to allow them to find ways to protect themselves after a noticeable uptick in vampire killings among the Muggle population was noticed. Much of what modern-day Muggles knew of vampires was still fairly accurate, although they no longer actually believe in them. As far as Defense classes, it’s one of the more interesting, at least for the Muggle-born among them.

It only gets better when in Charms, Professor Flitwick announces that he feels they are ready to learn the Levitation Charm. As they all remember the way he made Neville’s toad fly about the classroom, they are all excited to get to it. Although the professor tends to pick their partners for them, which Percy once explained was his way of ensuring that students mingled outside of their direct friend groups, in a rare move he tells them he’ll allow them to pair themselves up. Due to the uneven number of students in their year–ten boys and nine girls for a total of nineteen Gryffindor first years–there is usually a group of three, which has allowed Hermione to stay with some of the girls. Today, however, Amos in his dorm woke up so sick that after one look at him, Percy had personally marched him to the Hospital Wing to see Madam Pomfrey. He had yet to make an appearance, meaning that when the girls paired up like normal, Hermione was left to be paired with the one boy also left without a partner today: Ron Weasley.

No one else in their year butted heads more than the two of them, and Harry is tempted to offer to switch except he doesn’t think Hermione will appreciate it since they still aren’t talking. So despite feeling bad for her, he turns his attention back to the professor, who is reminding them of the wrist motion they’ve been practicing, as well as the fact that like many other spells, pronunciation and enunciation were key to performing the spell correctly. Then there is a chorus of Wingardium Leviosa as everyone begins attempting the spell.

Seamus, not unexpectedly, manages to set his and Dean Thomas’s feather on fire, to the laughter of those around them. It keeps Neville from prodding theirs with his wand lest he do the same, and the two struggle to get the combination of wand motion and pronunciation right. While they take turns trying and failing, Harry can overhear Ron and Hermione arguing as she tries to correct his pronunciation.

“You’re saying it wrong ,” he hears Hermione snap, not for the first time. “It’s Wing- gar -dium Levi- o -sa, not Levi-o- sa .”

Ron snarls at her, “If you’re so clever, then, you do it.”

Harry turns around to watch, trusting that if anyone can get this right and therefore give him a clue as to what he and Neville are doing wrong, it’s Hermione. He watches her roll up her sleeves, perform the flick and swish movement the professor has had them practice countless times by now, and recite confidently, “ Wingardium Leviosa .” Unsurprisingly, the feather does as intended and begins to float up into the air accordingly with the movement of her wand, until it is nearly four feet above their head.

Professor Flitwick is over the moon at how quickly she’s understood and executed the spell, bringing the attention of the class to it, as if they hadn’t already noticed the only feather floating about. Hermione is undoubtedly pleased with the praise, but Harry thinks that judging by the scowl on Ron’s face, it may have been better for the professor to not have singled her out.

Eventually, a few others manage it as well, to varying degrees of success. When class is done, they are all excused to go. Neville tells Harry to go on ahead, as he wants to get some pointers from Hermione as he had only managed to get the feather to float for a few seconds just before the end, and he wanted to understand what he was doing wrong.

Harry agrees, offering to take his DADA book with him. After lunch they have History of Magic, and while Neville will only need that as he’s still taking the Flying class, Harry will also need his book for Magical Theory and he’d rather grab it now and then take his time eating, then have to wolf lunch down in order to run up to the dorms before History.

As a result though, he ends up going in the complete opposite direction of everyone else in class, so he misses out completely on the drama that ensues. When he gets to lunch and sees Neville, sans Hermione, he asks what happens and Neville fills him in on them overhearing Ron bad-mouthing Hermione to other boys in their House, calling her a nightmare no one could stand to be around, with even Harry being fed up with her. When she stormed off and someone pointed out she must have overheard, he had doubled down, saying she must have noticed she had no friends.

“That bloody arsehole,” Harry starts, moving to get up out of his seat to see where the offending git was seated. Neville grabs his arm and pulls him back down, pointing out that Harry can’t afford to get in trouble and end up with detention when he’s got practices to attend.

“I’ll talk to Percy later,” Neville says. “H-He’ll say something to his brother. We should try to find Hermione.”

Harry agrees. He’d never intended to spend this long not talking to Hermione, and really, it was stupid that he hadn’t tried to make amends sooner. His previous desire to take his time with lunch is forgotten as the two boys eat quickly, and then attempt to find Hermione in the short amount of time they have left before class. Unfortunately, she isn’t in the Gryffindor common room, they can’t check the girls’ dorms, and the library also yields no results. They resign themselves to having to talk to her after History class, only to find that she isn’t there. When they point out her absence to Professor Bins, he tells them she was not feeling well and received permission to go to the Hospital Wing.

They rush there after class, but it’s to no avail. All they get is scolded for running in the halls by Madam Pomfrey, who tells them the only Gryffindor she has is Amos, who is currently sleeping. They’re baffled by this news, and go off to their respective classes, both deciding they’ll ask around. Draco seems not at all concerned, going so far as saying that he’s surprised no one has told her she’s insufferable before. It angers Harry, he makes a point of telling Draco that he’s disappointed to find he and Ron might be more alike than he thought. He’s well aware doing so will make Draco mad, but he doesn’t care in the moment, wanting only to lash out. Having been bullied by his own cousin for years, he knows all too well that no matter how much you don’t want it to, hearing mean things being said about you hurts.

With neither one of them having any luck in locating Hermione, Neville goes to speak to Percy about their missing friend, Harry in tow. He’s gratified to see the prefect get visibly upset at hearing that his youngest brother was acting like a bully, but the feeling is short lived when he speaks to Annalena Murk–the other Gryffindor prefect–and she informs them that Hermione is not in the girls’ dorm. She tells them that chances are she’ll show up for the Halloween feast, especially if she skipped out on lunch. Neither is happy with this, but Percy assures them that if she doesn’t show up, he’ll personally speak with Professor McGonagall to inform her of what’s happened, leaving them with nothing to do except kill time until dinner.

They both give up fairly quickly on getting any homework done. They’re too worried and distracted. In fact, their worry over Hermione’s absence puts such a damper on their mood that everyone else’s growing excitement as the hour for the Halloween feast draws near is incapable of lifting. When it’s time to go down to the Great Hall, they trudge downstairs along with everyone else, Harry visibly annoyed at seeing Ron laughing it up like nothing’s wrong.

There is a moment of surprise and wonder at seeing the transformation that has taken place in the Great Hall, with the normal candles replaced entirely with floating jack-o’-lanterns that shine brighter than any Harry has ever seen before. Besides the pumpkins, live bats fly about the room, in large clouds that make the candles flicker, and singularly as they move between the walls and the unseen ceiling beyond the enchanted sky. All other meals since the start of term had plates along the center that seem to magically refill themselves without any discernible change to the quantity on them. Now, like that previous feast, the food appears on golden plates before their eyes once they have all been seated.

The novelty is lost on Harry, though, when he looks up and down the row of students and fails to see Hermione among their numbers. Parvati Patil, coming over from Ravenclaw where she was presumably speaking with her sister, sees him looking around and comes over.

“Are you still looking for Hermione, Harry?”

He blinks up at her, and then nods his head. “Yeah, have you seen her?”

“Lavender and I stopped at the girls’ lavatory on the second floor and heard her crying,” she tells him. “We told her the feast was starting, but she asked to be left alone.”

“All right, thanks.” Harry and Neville frown at each other, unsure of what they can do now. It wasn’t as if they could go marching into the girls’ restroom to go find her. “We should let Murk know.”

Neville nods, and they get up to do just that. She tells them she’ll go check on her once she’s finished eating, and encourages them to enjoy the feast in the meantime. Reluctantly, they sit back down, Neville commenting that perhaps they should try to grab some food to take up with them for Hermione.

They’re only just settling in to eat when Professor Quirrell comes sprinting into the Great Hall. “Troll!” he yells as he goes, stopping only when he’s reached the staff table, where he leans heavily. He’s standing in front of Dumbledore, gasping for air as he says, loud enough for most of the room to hear in the silence that has fallen upon his entrance. “Troll–in the dungeons–thought you ought to know.” Then he falls over in a dead faint.

Immediately, the room erupts into a roar of sound, as multiple students begin screaming. It isn’t until multiple purple firecrackers get shot into the air by Dumbledore that it quiets down, the headmaster speaking into the silence immediately.

“Prefects,” he calls out. “Please lead your Houses back to their dorms.” Then he turns to instruct the teachers.

Professor Snape stands and adds smoothly, “Slytherin, as the troll is in the dungeons, you will head up to the Hospital Wing until we can be sure the way to the Slytherin dorms has been cleared.”

Percy is in his element, calling for order and instructing the sixth and fifth years to take the lead with the fourth through first years following, and the seventh years–and therefore the most magically experienced–taking up the rear to ensure the safety of the first years. The only other House as organized turns out to be Slytherin, and so the two Houses depart the Great Hall almost simultaneously, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff close on their heels. The prefects take turns calling to the students in their House to try to maintain some semblance of a line so they can ensure no one accidentally follows the wrong House in all the confusion.

There is still some mixing up of students, as some practically jog in an attempt to get away from the Great Hall and the nearby entrances to the dungeons quickly, while others have trouble keeping up in their panic. Harry and Neville find themselves not far from Draco, who looks paler even for him, and it’s clear that the thought of a troll in the dungeons is as terrifying to him as it is to Neville.

Taking pity on his friend, Harry sidles up next to him and asks, “How do you think a troll got into the school?”

Draco looks over at him, surprised, and admits, “I have no bloody idea, but wait until my father hears about this. If I get even close to being injured, he will have that old coot’s head for certain.”

Harry thinks that it would be warranted. He may not have Hogwarts history memorized, but he was pretty sure that a troll getting into the school was rare, if not completely unheard of until now. He rather wishes Hermione were here so he could ask her, as she would definitely remember such a thing being mentioned in Hogwarts, A History .

Suddenly, he grabs both Neville and Draco by the arm as he stops, realizing that at least one person is still unaware of the danger. Some students who walk into them complain about their being in the way, and Harry comes to his senses enough to pull them both aside.

“What are you doing?” Draco demands, watching as his Housemates go by.

“Hermione. She’s in the girls’ loo on the second floor. She doesn’t know about the troll.”

“Oh no,” Neville moans. “W-We should tell Percy.”

They look around but there are simply too many students for three eleven-year olds, none of them particularly tall, to spot one specific student. Even with the Weasleys’ distinctive red hair, all they can see is a mass of bodies jostling each other to get to their destinations quickly.

“They said it’s in the dungeons,” Draco reasons. “She should be fine on the second floor.”

“What if she decides to go to the Great Hall?” Neville asks, already thinking of the worst case scenarios. “Or worse, what if the troll doesn’t stay in the dungeons? Oh no, oh no, this is bad.”

He’s starting to panic, and Harry’s grip on his arm tightens. “Calm down. Let’s go try to find a prefect, any prefect. It doesn’t have to be Percy. One of them can find a teacher for us.”

“Wh-What i-i-i-if we don’t find one on ti-ti-time?” Neville asks worriedly, his anxiety making him stutter.

Harry, who had already started pulling the other two boys along down the hall, stumbles to a stop. What if they couldn’t find someone on time? They were only on the first floor right now, just past the stairs, but already he couldn’t see any of the Hufflepuff students. They must have already broken off to get to their dorm, meaning there were two prefects they were guaranteed not to find. The Gryffindors were headed up to the seventh floor, but they might be too late if they have to climb all the way up there and then come back. He has no idea where Ravenclaws are going, so they would have to grab those prefects before they broke off from the crowd as well, with no knowledge of what they even look like.

“Hurry, let’s see if we can find someone,” Harry says, practically sprinting. The Slytherins are heading for the Hospital Wing, so if he can’t find the Gryffindor or Ravenclaw prefects, that might be their best bet. “We at least know where the Slytherins are going.”

He’s running up the steps, jostling other students and calling quick apologies as he does, with Neville and Draco on his heels. Draco keeps calling him, but Harry doesn’t stop until they reach the third floor. Once there, he breaks off from the crowd of now mostly Ravenclaw and Gryffindor students to catch his breath. Neville follows suit, breathlessly asking a Ravenclaw girl for her prefect, but she either doesn’t understand or she doesn’t know, as she shrugs and quickly pulls away to keep going. Harry tries again while Neville catches his breath, but once again there’s a shrug as the boy he’s asked waves vaguely ahead of him. A Gryffindor seventh year, bringing up the tail end of the Gryffindor students, spots them and tells them to move along and not get left behind, but she doesn’t wait to see if they follow her.

Harry looks down the hall where he can see a few Slytherin students heading towards the Hospital Wing, but Draco grabs him and shakes his head. “Look, I guarantee the Slytherin prefects aren’t going to leave the Hospital Wing with a troll on the loose,” he tells him. He thinks, but does not say aloud, that they aren’t stupid enough to endanger themselves for some Muggleborn first year.

“Bloody hell,” Harry mutters. He seems to have an internal debate, looking towards the Hospital Wing, the stairs back down to the second floor, and then in the direction of the stairs leading up to the fourth where the other students have disappeared. He’s quiet for a beat before he finally makes a decision and declares, “Fine, then I’m going to go get Hermione.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Draco argues. “She’ll be fine . You expect a troll to come up to the second floor from the dungeons ? Let’s say you’re right, and you do: what can you do against a troll ?”

It’s a valid question, but truthfully? “I don’t care,” Harry replies. “We can’t just leave her there.”

“I-I-I’m c-c-c-coming with you,” Neville announces, though he’s visibly shaking.

Draco scoffs. “ You ? Some backup. Well, I’m going to the Hospital Wing, with the rest of my House, like I’m supposed to. Good luck and try not to get yourselves killed.”

He turns on his heels and marches away from them in the direction of the Hospital Wing. Harry’s disappointed, but he can’t say he doesn’t understand where Draco is coming from. He really doesn’t know what he’ll do if the troll is down there, but he’s sure the same goes for Hermione, and he kind of blames himself that she’s spent the afternoon crying alone. If only he hadn’t been so stubborn, she might have felt they were good enough friends for her to come to him– them , him and Neville–instead of crying by herself.

“Come on, Neville.” They head for the stairs, and are barely halfway down when he hears steps behind them and he turns to find Draco has run back.

“Ugh, if you get me killed, Potter, I will haunt you for all eternity,” he declares. Then he grabs Neville and shoves him back up the stairs. “You go find one of your prefects. They’re more likely to listen to you than me.”

Neville nods his head and takes off at a stumbling run. He is more likely to find Percy or Annalena, knowing the direction to their dorms, Harry thinks. But more importantly, he rather appreciates that his best friend is willing to have his back in this, when he very clearly would rather they not do this at all.

“Thanks,” he says, before taking the lead.

They rather hope to run into a teacher along the way, even if it means getting in trouble for not doing as they’re told. A sense of foreboding seems to follow them with every step, so that every little sound–real or imagined–makes them practically jump out of their skins. When they reach the girls’ restroom on the second floor what feels like an eternity later without incident, they are too relieved for words. Instead, Harry knocks on the door before opening it slightly and calling to Hermione within.

“Go away.” Comes the sniffled reply from within.

Glad to hear her voice, he opens the door all the way and steps in. “Hermione, you are here. Come on, we’ve got to go.”

“I already told Parvati and Lavender I’m not hungry,” she says, audibly annoyed. Her voice seems to be coming from the last stall, which is confirmed by it being the only closed stall door. “And what are you doing here? Do you just think none of the rules apply to you?”

Draco, who had been lingering in the open doorway, follows Harry into the room. “Move it, Granger! We don’t have time for this.”

“ Malfoy ?” Hermione pulls the stall door open.

“Please, you can scold me on the way upstairs,” Harry reasons, coming forward to grab her now that she’s come out of the stall. “There’s a troll loose in the dungeons; we can’t stay here.”

“What? A troll ?” Hermione is trying to pull her arm away as he manages to pull her halfway across the room, clearly not believing them. “What are you talking about?”

Before Harry can respond, they all freeze at the sound of grunting and shuffling footsteps. Draco moves away from the restroom door, trying not to make a sound as he backs up towards the other two, and then a foul stench hits them. Draco gags while Harry coughs and tries to cover his nose and mouth with one arm, still holding onto Hermione with the other while she tries to use both hands to cover her own face. They all look up almost simultaneously and watch in horror as the ugliest creature they’ve ever seen comes shuffling through the doorway.

The ceiling over the door breaks from the sheer size of the troll, who straightens once inside to his full, towering height. Harry can’t tell exactly how tall it is, but he wouldn’t be surprised to find out it was over ten feet tall, possibly much bigger than that. It certainly looked to be the size of a house, with its head appearing only just shy of the vaulted castle ceilings above it. Everything about it, from the dull, granite color and lumpy appearance of its skin made it seem like a walking boulder someone had attached tree trunks to in order to give it limbs. Its head, by contrast, was ridiculously small, like a tiny gumball set atop a football. Its long arms hung low, almost ape-like, along its side with one large hand gripping a large club nearly two-thirds the length of its arm.

It wore rags that seemed to be some semblance of clothes, and the smell coming off of either them or the creature itself was bad enough to make Harry’s eyes water. But he did not dare blink as the troll’s mean little eyes took them in, and it lumbered ever closer. The club it was dragging knocked into the sinks along the wall, causing them to break, one of the pipes bursting and shooting water everywhere.

“What do we do, what we do, what do we do?” Draco demands, backing away from the troll.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Any ideas?”

He can see Draco shake his head from the corner of his eye, but Hermione is behind him and he can’t see her. He can, however, hear how heavily she’s breathing and he thinks she might be having a panic attack right now. He hopes Neville has managed to find someone, anyone, but even if he does, they have to stay alive long enough to be rescued. Harry’s eyes move from the troll, to the door behind it. The castle’s many lavatories are all fairly big, meant to accommodate many students, but the troll’s size makes it seem so much smaller than it is. There is no space underneath the stalls for them to try to crawl underneath the partitions, and with it destroying the sinks, they can’t crawl underneath those either.

Frankly, it seems like their best bet may be to try to run around either side of the creature, and attempt to get around it. It’s unlikely they’ll all manage it, but if even one of them can, they can try to lure it out into the corridor where there’s more room, assuming it doesn’t just decide to go for the easier targets still trapped inside.

“I think we’re going to have to try to get around it,” Harry says. The only saving grace is that the thing is moving at a steady, fairly slow pace, possibly due to its size. “One or two of us go left, the other goes right, and if someone manages it, try to get it to follow out into the corridor maybe?” Actually, Harry thinks maybe he can try to slide between the thing’s disgusting, horned feet, as the floor is now slick with water.

“Are you insane?” Draco practically yells, causing the troll’s glance to move over towards him.

“Do you have a better idea?” Harry demands. The troll swings its gaze back to him, all the time moving steadily forward, while the three of them continue to move back. Hermione has still not said a word, but when her back hits the wall, she lets out a small squeak of surprise, and Harry finally looks back at her.

She’s clearly terrified, eyes wide and focused on the troll. He looks at it himself, then turns around completely to face her, shaking her a little. “Hermione, when I say go, you have to try to get around the troll on its left side,” he explains. She shakes her again until she looks at him, and asks, “Do you understand? On my signal, move along the stalls and try to get around it.”

“I guess we’ll go right?” Draco asks, eyes moving towards the sinks. He realizes that although getting over the broken pieces may be tricky, the fact that it has destroyed a lot of them means there’s slightly more space between it and the wall, if they can just safely get around the club its dragging along.

“Yeah,” Harry says, thinking it best to not say what he’s really planning. Last thing he wants is for them to argue about it. “All right, everyone ready? Ready…set…”

Before he says go, he takes off running at the troll, causing Hermione to gasp and Draco to demand what he’s doing. He does not answer, simply yelling “Go!” as planned, as loudly as he can, to draw the trolls attention onto himself. Harry doesn’t look up, hoping to not psych himself out, certain that if he hesitates, he’ll surely end up dead.

Draco takes a moment to get over his shock, and then he’s shoving Hermione to prompt her to move towards the left while he goes right. His hesitation turns out to work in his favor, as it prevents him from being close as the troll drags its club forward, breaking more sinks as it moves to swing it at Harry, who never slows down.

The troll swings the club downwards, causing Hermione to scream, certain that it’s going to manage to catch the other boy, but at the last second Harry dives forward and ends up sliding across the floor right between its legs. Draco takes advantage of the trolls surprise to clamber over the broken sink pieces, managing to get around it, but his feeling of triumph is short-lived. Behind them, the troll’s focus has moved back to Hermione due to her scream. She’s trapped herself inside a stall, and it moves to lift the club.

“Oh no, Hermione!” Harry is standing next to Draco, frantically looking around for something he can use to draw the troll’s attention. He grabs one of the broken faucets and lobs it at the creature, yelling loudly for its attention. “Oy! Pea-brain! Over here!”

Draco thinks that the yelling is what does it, as it doesn’t seem at all phased by the piece of metal that hits it. He thinks this is undoubtedly the stupidest thing he has ever done in his entire life, but still, he grabs another broken off piece of sink and throws it at the troll, adding his yells to Harry’s to cause it to lumber towards them. Slowly, they backup towards the door, hoping to draw it out of the bathroom completely before it remembers that there’s another person still trapped inside.

It’s working, and Harry dares to hope that they’ll actually get it out into the corridor before his hopes are dashed. The floor is still wet, and he is soaked through from his slide across the floor. It gets tangled in his feet, and he falls backwards with a loud, wet flop . The troll seems to sense his opportunity, as it draws the club over its head, ready to swing it down towards him. Draco tries to draw its attention, but it does not look away from where Harry is scrambling to get back on his feet.

Then from behind them, someone yells, “ Oppugno !” Draco turns, and the relief he feels at seeing Percy, a Weasley of all people, has his knees buckling as his legs lose all strength to support the rest of his body.

Harry watches as the spell hits the troll’s club, yanking it from its grasp as it roars in surprise. He feels a hand wrap around his arm and yank him to his feet, and then Percy is shoving him out into the corridor towards Draco. They watch, astonished, as the troll tries to grab at the club before there is an audible crack as it connects solidly with the creature's head, and then it’s lumbering forward like a fallen tree, and crashing into the floor. Silence reigns with the exception of the sound of water still bubbling out of a broken pipe, and then Percy is calling into the restroom in a strangled voice.

“Hermione?”

Timidly and shaking, Hermione comes out from the stall she’d been trapped in. “I-I’m here. Is it dead?”

With a sigh, he says, “I don’t think so. Come on out of there.” He directs her to come around the thing, reaching out a hand to help her once she’s close enough to grab it.

Percy’s so pale that the freckles on his face visibly stand out. Harry thinks that from this day forward, if he ever hears the twins ragging on their studious older brother, he’ll tell them they should hope to be half as brave or smart as he is. Without hesitation, he had single-handedly taken down a troll , and saved all three of their lives. At the very least, he had saved Harry’s.

Loud footsteps draw all of their attention down the corridor, and they all look over to see Professor McGonagall running towards them. Not far behind her is Professor Snape, with Professor Quirrell bringing up the rear. They slow down as they catch sight of the four of them, Professor McGonagall’s gaze seeming to assess them quickly before moving on to the bathroom beyond them and the destruction within, surrounding a clearly unconscious troll. When he spots it, Professor Quirrell faints dead away again, and Harry can’t help thinking that he makes a poor Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher if he can’t handle even seeing a troll, and an unconscious one at that.

“What is going on here?” McGonagall demands, oblivious to her colleague lying unconscious behind her. Snape, for his part, goes around all of them to inspect the troll inside. “What were all of you thinking? You could have been killed! I want an explanation this instant !”

They all look at each other, none of them seeming to know where to start, when both Hermione and Percy speak up at once.

“Please, Professor–they were looking for me.”

“I can explain, Professor; this was my fault.”

The two look at each other, as McGonagall glances from one to the other, before she opts to listen to her prefect. “Explain, Mr. Weasley.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Percy says. “I was made aware prior to the Halloween feast that Miss Granger had not been seen for some hours. I meant to inform you of this if she failed to show up, but forgot in trying to get all the other students upstairs. Mr. Longbottom made me aware of the fact that she was done here, and that Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy had come in search of her, and I found them cornered by the troll.”

“Did it not occur to you two to go with Mr. Longbottom in search of a prefect?” Professor McGonagall asked, looking from Harry to Draco.

“We tried,” Draco insists, crossing his arms. Of course they were going to get in trouble for trying to do something nice.

“There were just so many people,” Harry adds, “and when we asked, no one could point anyone out. We thought we should try to come get Hermione before she could wander down to the Great Hall on her own while Neville went looking for Percy.” Then, thinking that if any prefect is going to get in trouble, it shouldn’t be Percy he adds, “We’d told Annalena about Hermione being here during the feast.”

This information causes McGonagall to press her lips in a tight line before she looks over at Hermione. “And why, Miss Granger, were you not with the rest of the students earlier?”

“Well.” She hesitates, and looks over at Percy briefly, and she seems torn on whether to tell the truth or not.

Percy saves her the trouble. “It appears that my youngest brother may have been bullying Miss Granger earlier today.” This doesn’t seem to improve McGonagall’s mood, as she lets out a sigh. Professor Snape comes back at that moment, asking Percy if he is the one who took the troll out. “Yes,” he admits sheepishly. “I cast the Oppugno Jinx when I saw it was trying to swing its club at Harry.”

“While I admire the fact that you both thought of Miss Granger’s safety,” McGonagall says, looking from Draco to Harry. “You should not have come down here yourselves. If Mr. Longbottom had not informed Mr. Weasley of your whereabouts, all three of you may have been killed. And Miss Granger, if you are having trouble with your Housemates, I expect you to reach out to the prefects or myself–that is what we are here for.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the three first years chorus together.

The remorse they feel is clear, and standing in a line just in front of Percy, they look in a sad state indeed, especially Harry, who is still visibly drenched. She eyes them for another quiet moment, before looking over at Snape. They seem to come to a silent agreement before she speaks again.

“You all were very lucky. I hope you learn from this,” she tells them. “That being said, I am very proud of you for looking out for each other in such a situation. I will be awarding five points to each of you, Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy, for coming to assist Miss Granger. As well as to Mr. Longbottom, for his assistance in notifying a prefect.

“As for you, Mr. Weasley, not many fifth year students would have the knowledge or presence of mind to take on a mountain troll on their own to come to the rescue of three younger students.” There is no mistaking the pride in her voice as she says this, and she does manage to smile at him. “For that, you will earn an additional 20 points for Gryffindor. I will be sure to notify Molly and Arthur of what an upstanding Gryffindor they have managed to raise.”

Percy looks shocked, as if he’d been expecting punishment instead of the praise being heaped on him. “If none of you are injured, you may go to your respective Houses as they will be finishing their feasts in their dorms, and classes tomorrow will be canceled,” she tells them. It is now that she looks around, spots Professor Quirrell and lets out yet another sigh. “We will attend to things here.”

“Mr. Malfoy, please let your Housemates know I shall be at the Hospital Wing shortly to escort you all back to the Slytherin dorms,” Professor Snape says. Then he steps aside to speak to a portrait that has up to this point been watching them intently. After a moment, the gentleman in the painting nods his head, then scurries off into the other paintings.

Percy thanks the professors, then instructs the three of them to come along. They’re all quiet as they walk to the stairs and climb up to the third floor, the Gryffindors escorting the sole Slytherin among them by silent agreement. When they are close enough to see the doors of the Hospital Wing, though, Draco stops, causing the others to stop as well. They all share awkward looks, then all three first years speak up together, looking at Percy.

“Thanks.”

The prefect flushes red in embarrassment. “It was nothing,” he says. “It’s my duty as a prefect to ensure the safety of all students, especially first years.”

“Thanks to both of you too,” Hermione adds, looking from Harry to Draco. “I…would’ve been in real trouble if you hadn’t come…”

It’s Draco’s turn to look embarrassed, a visible pink tinge creeping into his cheeks. “Yeah, well. Don’t let it get to your head.” He bids them a goodnight, then rushes off to the Hospital Wing doors to pass on his Head of House’s message to the rest of the Slytherins.

Percy, Harry, and Hermione continue on up to Gryffindor, where they are greeted by the loud sounds of their Housemates enjoying the feast that had been cut short below. No one seems to notice their return except for Neville, who looks relieved upon sighting them as he rushes over and pulls Harry and Hermione into a tight hug. Over his head, they smile at each other, glad to be back in the safety of their common room, surrounded by their classmates.

Soon, they’ll regale everyone with the night’s events, testing the limits of just how red in the face Percy Weasley can get in one night as they dramatically recount his arrival at the most crucial moment. It will give the twins a new way to embarrass their older brother, as they spend the weekend announcing the arrival of the Hero of Gryffindor, Percy Weasley, Savior of the Boy Who Lived wherever he goes until he threatens to feed them both to the next troll he finds. But it will not change the fact that he is a hero, and that his relationship with a small group of first years, as their relationship with each other, has irrevocably been changed.

#Because I Could Not Stop for Death #BICNSFD #Harmony fic #HP Fanfic #Harry Potter #Black Hermione is bae

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