Harry Potter and the Gift of Memories [Harry Potter Fan Fiction]

Chapter XXIV: A Troll in the Bathroom

A loud gurgling sound issued from his stomach and distracted Harry from his thoughts. A frown crossed his face and he looked down as more gurgling came forth, followed by mild hunger pains. He had eaten just a little under an hour ago. The fact that he was hungry again said a lot about how much energy he had expended while practicing.

With a sigh, Harry took one look around the classroom he had decided to use for his private studies. It was no different from any other classrooms. There were desks arrayed around the room, shelves that lined the walls, a chalkboard, and a teachers desk. But the room looked more worn than the others currently being used. Harry could see the dust on the desks, a layer of it several centimeters thick. This place had obviously not been used before he found it for a long time.

He shook his head. There were so many unused classrooms like this. He wondered how long it had been since these rooms had a class in them. Were they no longer in use because the wizarding world had less students now? He knew that during the war against Voldemort a number of magical families had been killed. He just hadn't expected it to have affected classes like this.

Deciding he to the kitchens to satisfy his hunger, as he had no desire to go to the Halloween Feast, Harry left the room behind.

He walked down one of the many corridors on the second floor, passing by suits of armor, some bowing, others saluting, one even flipped him off.

Along with the suits of armor, Harry saw several portraits. They lined either side of the wall and he could see the people moving within the landscapes.

For a second, Harry entertained the idea of using the portraits to create a spy network to let him know what was going on in the castle. With the people within the portraits ability to move from one painting to the next and communicate with each other, the potential to have a spy network that expanded the entire school of Hogwarts was incredible. And the best part was that no one would be the wiser. Magical children tended to ignore the portraits as they had seen them there whole life, and while children of non-magical families were in awe of them the first few days, the novelty eventually wore off for them as well. No one would ever suspect that the old hag you passed by in a painting could very well be watching your every move and reporting it back to someone.

Of course, the potential for a spy network was only useful so long as no one else had thought of it. Harry did not doubt for one second that Dumbledore must have done so. He had to have. If the man had even an ounce of the intelligence and wisdom lauded to him, then he would have. And if he had, then he would be alerted to the fact that Harry was trying to form a spy network with the paintings as well, should he make an attempt.

The thought of using the network of paintings and portraits as spies was only a passing thought in the mind of Harry Potter. Potentially useful, but not worth the risks. He put it out of his mind a second later.

It was just as Harry let the last remaining vestige of his previous thoughts fade that a loud, shrill scream pierced the air. It was a sound that came from someone experiencing fear, a primal terror of someones deepest, darkest fears.

He also recognized the voice. It was several decibels higher than normal, and loud enough to rattle glass, but even with that change Harry's eidetic memory easily took the voice's pitch and tone, and reference it with the hundreds of other voices he had heard in his life to find a match.

It was Hermione Granger.

And she was screaming in fear.

The sounds of her scream were cut off and quickly followed by a loud bellowing that Harry had never heard before in his life. It didn't sound the least bit human. The roar was also followed by something else: the sound of something shattering and another shrill scream.