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Aurora Areli
WHEN HARRY, RON AND I entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning, I had to try hard not to laugh. Malfoy was sitting with his usual posse at the Slytherin table, gawking at us as though he couldn't believe that we were still enrolled at school.
Harry looked at me questioningly, so I nodded my head in the direction of the blond-haired boy. At the sight, he and Ron exchanged smug looks.
I plopped down in the seat next to Harry as he explained to Ron and me about the package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and that he thought that was what the Cerberus was guarding.
"Why would it need that much protection though?" I asked as I buttered a piece of toast.
"Probably because it's either really valuable or really dangerous," said Ron.
"Or both," said Harry.
I nodded, but was still unsure.
All we knew for certain was that Harry had seen that it was about two inches long, which didn't help us much. We needed more clues.
Hermione was walking past us along the Gryffindor table, so I tried to wave at her. However, instead of returning the gesture, she just pretended not to see me. I knew she was pretending because I was practically right in front of her. That meant she was now refusing to speak to me like with Harry and Ron.
I frowned, disheartened that she no longer wanted anything to do with me. There was a small pang in my chest, and I turned back to my plate in silence.
"I don't know why you're so bothered," Ron said when he noticed Hermione ignore me. "She's such a know-it-all, you should be happy she's finally left us alone."
I saw Harry frantically shake his head at Ron when he thought I wasn't looking, but I didn't care about that very much.
"She might be to you, but I happened to consider her a friend, Ronald," I informed him, huffing, before stabbing my toast with a knife.
I didn't know exactly why (it was probably the combination of sleep deprivation, sadness from Hermione not talking to me, and homesickness), but I felt my eyes fill with tears.
Not wanting to cry in front of them, I blinked rapidly, but to no avail.
"Are you crying?" said Ron, sounding shocked. He then turned to Harry, "What's she crying for?"
"I'm not," I said quickly, wiping my watery eyes.
Luckily, the boys didn't have time to say anything else because the mail arrived, and everybody's attention was caught by a long, thin package that was being carried by six large screech owls.
When the package was dropped right in front of Harry with a loud thunk, I jumped about three feet in the air.
I watched as he snatched the letter that had landed on top of the package and opened it. His eyes widened and he passed the letter to me. It read:
DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE
It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session.
It was signed by Professor McGonagall. I looked at Harry in surprise and slight disbelief, then handed the letter to Ron, who was eyeing us strangely.
"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron said enviously. "I've never even touched one."
"Let's go back to the dormitories to open it," Harry said.
We followed him out of the Great Hall, and were halfway across the entrance hall when I noticed the way upstairs was blocked by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy came up to Harry, seized the package from him, and ran his hands along it.
"That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back to Harry with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time, Potter. First years aren't allowed them."
"It's not any old broomstick," Ron said, unable to resist rubbing the news in Malfoy's face, "it's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you have at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" He grinned at Harry. "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."
"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle," Malfoy snapped back. "I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig."
Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow.
"Not arguing, I hope, boys," he squeaked. When I coughed, he added, "And girl."
"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," Malfoy said quickly, obviously wanting Harry to get in trouble.
"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"
"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir," said Harry. I bit my lip to hide a smile at the look of horror on Malfoy's face.
"And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it," he added.
Harry, Ron and I passed Crabbe and Goyle on our way upstairs, smothering our laughter at Malfoy's obvious rage and confusion.
"Well, it's true," Harry chortled as we reached the top of the marble staircase. "If he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall I wouldn't be on the team . . ."
"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking the rules?" came an angry voice from just behind us. Hermione was stomping up the stairs, glaring at the package in Harry's hand.
"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" said Harry.
"Yes, don't stop now," said Ron, "it's doing us so much good."
I frowned, but didn't say anything as Hermione marched away with her nose in the air.
. . . . .
At dinner that evening, I watched in confusion as Harry scarfed down his food.
"Come on, Rory," he said as he and Ron got up from the table.
"Why?"
"We're going to open McGonagall's package," he explained, but quickly added, "You don't have to come if you don't want to."
"Oh!" I said in realization. "No, of course I want to."
Harry looked up and grinned at me, before taking off towards Gryffindor tower with Ron and I following behind him.
The boys led me to their dormitory, where Harry reached under his bed and placed the parcel on top of it.
"Wow," Ron sighed as the broomstick rolled onto Harry's bedspread.
"It is a nice broom," I said, admiring the shiny mahogany handle and long tail of neat, straight twigs. The words 'Nimbus Two Thousand' were written in gold near the top.
Since it was a quarter to seven, Harry had to make his way to the Quidditch pitch, so Ron and I went down to the common room to work on our homework (well, I was working on homework, Ron was busy playing Exploding Snap).
The few weeks before Halloween passed quickly, and before I knew it I had been at Hogwarts for almost two months. My birthday had passed, and now I was officially eleven.
When my brother had come over to the Gryffindor table to wish me a happy birthday and give me a present, I knew by the sheepish looks on their faces that Harry and Ron felt bad about not realizing. I assured them it was fine, but I was happy to know they cared.
Other than that, I was happy to report to Mum and Dad that my lessons had been getting more challenging now that we had mastered the basics.
On Halloween morning, I awoke to the smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. To make the day better, Professor Flitwick had announced in Charms class that we were ready to start making objects fly. That was something I had wanted to learn for myself ever since the first time Dad had helped me float a book down from a high shelf in our library.
Professor Flitwick put our class into pairs to practice. I was partnered with Dean Thomas, who smiled at me when I went to sit next to him. Harry was paired with Seamus Finnigan while Ron and Hermione were together. I wasn't sure who was angrier about the latter arrangement.
"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched atop his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important too — never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."
I didn't think the spell was too difficult, because after practicing my wrist movement a few times, I said, "Wingardium Leviosa!" and my feather rose about a foot over the desk before I lost my concentration because Seamus lit his on fire. Dean looked at me, impressed.
When he tried it for himself, our feather stayed put on the desk.
"What am I doing wrong?" he asked me.
"Um, try flicking your wrist a little harder," I suggested.
That helped a little, and Dean's feather rose about three inches before floating back down.
"Thanks," he said, beaming at his accomplishment.
"No problem."
I looked a few tables down at Ron, who wasn't having as much luck.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill.
"You're saying it wrong," I heard Hermione snap. "It's Win-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."
"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled.
Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand, and said, "Wingardium Leviosa!"
Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above our heads.
"Oh well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it!"
Ron seemed to be in a very bad mood by the end of class.
I was walking out of Charms with Harry and Ron when the red-haired boy said to us, "It's no wonder no one can stand her." I frowned, but stayed silent. "She's a nightmare, honestly."
Someone ran into Harry as they hurried past him, and I caught a glimpse of bushy brown hair and teary eyes.
"I think she heard you," Harry said awkwardly.
I turned to Ron and hit him in the arm with my book, not caring when he yelped in pain.
"You're so inconsiderate sometimes, Ronald!" I scolded him, ignoring the shocked look on his face. "Did you ever stop to think that the reason she's like that is to defend herself from people like you?"
"And you!" I looked at Harry, who I noticed had a glint of fear in his eyes. "You didn't try and defend her! I know for a fact you don't dislike her as much as Ron, why don't you ever say anything?"
I didn't wait for a reply. Instead, I shoved my books into his arms and ran after Hermione. We might not have been on good terms then, but I couldn't just leave her alone.
I followed her into the girls' bathroom, just barely entering as she closed herself inside one of the stalls.
"Hermione?" I called hesitantly.
"Go away, Aurora," she sniffled. "I know you just came in here to make fun of me."
"That's not true," I said, walking closer to her stall.
"Then what do you want?"
"To apologize," I explained. "Ron's really insensitive, and he's a, well — he's a stupid boy. You shouldn't listen to him."
"But it's true!" she sobbed. "Nobody can stand me, and I don't have any friends. Everyone thinks I'm a stuck-up know-it-all."
"I'm your friend, Hermione," I said, hoping she wouldn't find that too weird. "And you're not all those things."
"You are?" she asked quietly, as though she thought I was lying.
"Definitely," I said, before adding, "If you want?"
There was a click, and the stall opened, revealing a puffy-eyed Hermione, who was wiping her eyes with a handkerchief.
She sighed, and with a small smile, said, "Thanks, Rory."
My heart warmed at the use of my nickname, rather than the full one, so I found it very easy to smile back. "Don't mention it."
I stayed with her in the bathroom for the next few hours since she hadn't felt up to leaving that soon. When she insisted that I go to class, not wanting me to miss lessons because of her, I told her that it wouldn't make me a good friend if I left her alone, earning a smile.
. . . . .
Harry Potter
Rory and Hermione didn't turn up for the next class and I didn't see them for the rest of the afternoon. When Ron and I were making our way to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, we overheard Parvati Patil telling her friend Lavender that Hermione was crying in the girls bathroom, and that Rory was with her.
Ron looked more awkward at this, but I was relieved that Rory was okay, since I'd started to worry. I didn't know what to do with the books she gave me since I didn't want to go into the girls' dormitory, so I was still carrying them around with me.
Ron didn't understand this, and told me that I should've just left them in the common room, but I didn't want anything to happen to them. Plus, I kind of liked having something of hers to carry around with me, especially since she wasn't in classes with us.
To put it simply, yes, I missed her.
When we entered the Great Hall, the sight of the magnificent Halloween decorations pushed the thoughts of Rory and Hermione to the back of my mind.
A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.
I was just helping myself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and a look of terror on his face. We all stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll — in the dungeons — thought you ought to know."
He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.
There was a huge uproar as Quirrell's words sunk in, and it took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.
"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"
Percy seemed to be in his element as he shouted, "Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!"
"How could a troll get in?" I asked Ron as we climbed the stairs.
"Don't ask me, they're supposed to be really stupid," he said. "Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke."
We passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions. As we jostled our way through a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs, I suddenly remembered ー Rory.
I grabbed Ron's arm and said, "I've just thought — Rory and Hermione."
"What about them?"
"They don't know about the troll."
Ron's eyes widened in realization.
"Let's go," he said. "But I'm doing this because Rory's my friend, and Percy'd better not see us."
Ducking down, we joined the Hufflepuffs going the other way, slipped down a deserted side corridor, and hurried off toward the girls' bathroom. We had just turned the corner when we heard quick footsteps behind us.
"Percy!" hissed Ron, pulling me behind a large stone griffin.
Peering around it, we didn't see Percy. Instead, it was Snape. He crossed the corridor and disappeared from view.
"What's he doing?" I whispered. "Why isn't he down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?"
"Search me," Ron shrugged.
As quietly as possible, we crept along the next corridor after Snape's quickly fading footsteps.
"He's heading for the third floor," I said, but Ron held up his hand.
"Can you smell something?"
As I sniffed the air, a foul stench invaded my nostrils, making me want to gag. It was a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean.
And then we heard a sort of low grunting, and the shuffling walk of gigantic feet. Ron pointed toward the end of a passage to the left; something huge was approaching us. We shrank back into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.
Twelve feet tall, the dull gray skin, lumpy, boulder-like body and small bald head didn't make for a pretty sight. The troll had short legs as thick as tree trunks with flat, horned feet. It was also holding a large wooden club that dragged along the ground because its arms were so long. I noticed the smell was becoming stronger as it got closer.
The ugly creature stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It seemed to be making up its tiny mind about entering, but eventually slouched slowly into the room.
"The key's in the lock," I muttered to Ron. "We could lock it in."
"Good idea," said Ron nervously.
We edged toward the open door, my mouth feeling dry, praying the troll wasn't about to come out of it. With a single great leap, I managed to grab the key, slam the door, and lock it.
"Yes!" exclaimed Ron.
Elated with our victory, we started to run back up the passageway, but as we reached the corner we heard something that made my heart stop — two high, terrified screams — and they were coming from the room we'd just locked up.
"Oh, no," said Ron, who had turned as pale as the Bloody Baron.
"It's the girls' bathroom!" I gasped.
Desperate not to let Rory and Hermione get attacked, I wheeled around and sprinted back to the door with Ron following close behind me. When we reached the door, I fumbled with the key before finally getting it to unlock, pulling the door open and running inside.
Aurora Areli
"Come on," I said, leaning against one of the sinks. "The feast is probably nearly over, we can go back to the common room without too many people noticing."
"Sorry about making you miss it," said Hermione, "but you didn't have to stay with me."
I turned to face her, smiling softly. "Don't worry, I wanted to."
Hermione's skin suddenly went very pale. Her eyes were wide and frightened, and she was staring at something directly behind me. A chill went down my spine as she whispered, "Rory, whatever you do: Don't. Move."
"What?" I breathed, frowning, but listening to her. "What's wrong?"
I heard the door slam shut with a click. I couldn't help it — I whipped my head around, scrunching my nose up at the sudden horrible smell. But the disgusted look on my face soon faded, and was replaced with one of fear.
Standing before us was a twelve-foot troll.
When it noticed us, it swung its bat and we both screamed before scrambling toward the far end of the bathroom, trying to put as much distance between us and the troll as possible.
Hermione looked as if she was about to faint.
I reached into my pocket for my wand, but felt that it wasn't there. I frantically looked around and saw it lying on the floor, probably having fallen out when we ran.
Suddenly, the door opened and I saw Harry and Ron run inside.
I didn't have time to be surprised, because the troll began advancing on me and Hermione, knocking the sinks off the walls as it came closer.
"Confuse it!" I heard Harry yell to Ron, his voice sounding desperate.
Someone threw a tap against the wall, causing the troll to stop a few feet in front of us. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean, beady little eyes stopped on Harry. It hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it went.
"Oy, pea-brain!" yelled Ron from the other side of the bathroom, and he threw a metal pipe at it. The troll didn't seem to notice the pipe as it hit his shoulder, but it heard his voice and paused again, turning towards Ron instead, giving Harry time to run around it.
As Harry reached us, he grabbed onto my arm and pulled me up, then did the same to Hermione, yelling, "Come on, run, run!" I helped him try and pull her towards the door, but she wouldn't budge, her mouth open with terror.
The shouting and echoes seemed to be confusing the troll, driving it crazy, and it let out another roar before advancing towards Ron, who had no way to escape.
Then, Harry did something I thought was very brave, if not also very stupid. He took a great running jump and somehow managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind.
The troll probably couldn't feel Harry on his back, but I knew for sure it felt when Harry's wand, that was apparently in his hand when he jumped, found its way up it's nostril.
With a great howl of pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, and I covered my mouth with my hands when I saw that Harry was hanging on for dear life. I was sure that any second the giant creature would throw him off or hit him with the club.
Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright, but I stayed standing there, was watching the scene in horror. Then, Ron pulled out his wand and cried, "Wingardium Leviosa!"
All of a sudden, the club flew out of the troll's hand and rose higher and higher into the air, before slowly turning over and dropping onto its owner's head with a sickening crack that made me wince.
The troll swayed on the spot before falling flat on its face. The sound of it hitting the floor made the whole room shake.
Harry got to his feet, shaking and out of breath. Ron was standing with his wand still raised, staring at what he had done.
"Is it — dead?" Hermione finally said.
"I don't think so," said Harry. "I think it's just been knocked out."
He bend down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in a lumpy gray substance that I didn't want to think about.
When it finally sank in what had just happened, I rushed over to the boys and exclaimed, "Oh, you two are so stupid!"
After checking for injuries, I wrapped my arms around a shocked Ron before turning and doing the same to Harry.
I pulled away from the green-eyed boy just as he returned the hug, noticing his already pink face flush even darker.
Then, I smacked him on the arm, immediately feeling bad, but not acknowledging it. "What were you thinking, you dummy, jumping on the back of a troll like that? You could have been killed!"
Harry didn't have time to respond (which was probably a relief for him, as there were no good reasons) because the door suddenly slammed open. Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell not too far behind them.
I hadn't realized it at the time, but we had probably made a huge racket while fighting the troll. They must've been able to hear us from all the way downstairs.
Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sunk down on a toilet, clutching his heart.
Snape bent over the troll while Professor McGonagall was looking at Ron, Harry and me. I had never seen her look so angry; her lips were pressed together so tightly they turned white.
"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, her voice full of cold fury. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitories?"
I wished Ron would put down his wand.
Then, much to the surprise of everyone there, a feeble voice came out of the shadows.
"Please, Professor McGonagall — they were looking for me."
"Miss Granger!" gasped Professor McGonagall.
We all turned to look at Hermione, who had managed to get to her feet.
"I went looking for the troll because I — I thought I could deal with it on my own — you know, I've read all about them."
I heard Ron drop his wand as I tried not to gape at her in disbelief. Hermione Granger was the last person I thought would tell a downright lie to a teacher.
"If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now," she continued. "Harry stuck his wand up its nose, Rory tried to come get me, and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."
I tried as hard as I could to put on an innocent expression, despite my surprise.
"Well — in that case . . ." Professor McGonagall said, thankfully buying the story, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"
Hermione hung her head.
"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."
With a timorous nod, Hermione quickly left.
Professor McGonagall turned to me and the boys, and said, "Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."
We hurried out of the chamber and didn't speak at all until we had climbed two floors up. I was more relieved to be away from the smell than anything. The fact that we had managed to get out of that bathroom alive hadn't fully registered in my head.
"We should have gotten more than fifteen points," Ron grumbled.
"Ten, you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's," Harry corrected, and I nodded in agreement.
"Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admitted. "Mind you, we did save her."
"Well, she wouldn't have needed saving if you hadn't been so rude to her," I said disapprovingly.
"Yeah, and if we hadn't locked the thing in with her," Harry acknowledged.
"Wait," I said, turning to him, my eyes narrowing,"You locked it in with us?"
The boys looked at each other, panic overtaking their features.
"Um — well . . ."
"Pig snout," Ron said suddenly, interrupting Harry's lame attempt to save their skins.
I chose to drop it, and rolled my eyes as we entered the common room, where everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for us. For a minute, there was an embarrassed pause; neither the boys nor Hermione were looking at each other.
"What do we say?" I asked.
"Thanks," they muttered, and I shook my head as the four of us went off to get plates. Fighting trolls made us hungrier than I thought.
From then on, Hermione was accepted by the boys, and she began to tolerate them in return. There were some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and battling a twelve-foot troll together was definitely one of them.
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