Chapter 5: Hallowe'en

The next morning, Madam Pomfrey had been furious that she had to repair Sherlock's legs again, but John managed to smooth it over by lying, unconvincingly, and telling her that Sherlock was a sleepwalker. Madam Pomfrey didn't believe a word of it but didn't question any further.

They both walked, Sherlock on crutches, down to breakfast, chuckling at Malfoy's gobsmacked expression as they passed. Castiel, who had left the hospital wing earlier that morning, hurried over to join them. It seemed the Ravenclaws were already questioning him about their broom crash.

'Where did you two get to? We thought you'd been caught!' Ron said.

'We hid in an empty classroom. What about you lot?' John replied. Harry and Ron explained about their escapade with the three-headed dog. John and Castiel listened, wide-eyed and Sherlock seemed incredibly interested in the trap door they had seen.

'How am I supposed to know how wide it is?' Ron said, irritated at Sherlock's questions. 'I didn't even see it, and if I did I don't think I'd have a chance to measure it, do you?'

'But why were you up there?' Castiel asked.

'We were running away from Filch, Malfoy tricked us into going to the trophy room in the middle of the night,' Harry said sourly.

They spent the rest of breakfast plotting ways of getting their own back on Malfoy. The solution came a week later in the post in the form of a long, slim package carried by six large screech owls. Harry was amazed when they dropped it in front of him, knocking his bacon and several goblets of pumpkin juice to the floor. Harry ripped open the letter first, which was lucky because it said:

DO NOT OPEN AT THE TABLE.

It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand,

but I don't want everyone knowing you've

got a broomstick or they'll all want one.

Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the

Quidditch pitch at seven o'clock for your

first training session.

Professor M. McGonagall

Harry handed the note to Ron, who then passed it to Sherlock and John while Castiel read it over their shoulder.

'Wow a Nimbus Two Thousand!' Ron gasped.

'That's a very good model,' Sherlock said, eyeing the package.

'Good? It's one of the best!' Ron exclaimed. Harry and Ron left the Hall quickly, leaving John, Sherlock and Castiel at the table.

'Why did Professor McGonagall send Harry a broom?' Castiel asked quietly.

'Oh, I forgot!' John said. 'When Neville fell off his broom, he dropped his Remembrall. Malfoy grabbed it and flew off with it, but Harry went after him. Malfoy threw it and Harry chased it, he caught it after a fifty-foot dive! It was amazing! Professor McGonagall saw him doing it and now he's Seeker for Gryffindor,' John explained, vividly illustrating his description with various hand gestures. Sherlock said nothing. He wasn't surprised as he'd already heard about James Potter being a very good Quidditch player.

They had been at Hogwarts for two months and Sherlock still had to use his crutches. He stood up from the breakfast table and glowered at them stubbornly. John caught his expression and laughed.

'I told you, Sherlock. You could have got rid of them weeks ago if you didn't keep "accidentally" leaving them in your dormitory,' he said.

'And I told you, I don't need them,' Sherlock scowled.

'Right. I'll remind you of that next time I have to drag you back up to the hospital wing because your legs have seized up, again.'

'There's no need for that, I'll just get Castiel to fix it,' Sherlock sniffed.

'You overestimate my abilities, Sherlock. I'm far from being able to mend bones and muscles,' Castiel said, stuffing his mouth with roasted pumpkin, specially made for Hallowe'en. After the incident with their brooms, Madam Pomfrey had agreed to give Castiel private lessons on healing. He was coming along nicely and was now able to heal small cuts and bruises.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and reluctantly put his arms through the loops in his crutches. John smiled approvingly.

'Come on, Charms now,' said Harry, wiping his hands. The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws had Charms together and it was one of the lessons John looked forward to the most. Not only did he enjoy the magic greatly, Sherlock almost always caused some sort of mischief by experimenting with his spellwork. Last lesson he'd managed to cause half the class to cough bubbles until Professor Flitwick had figured out how to reverse it, much to their amusement. They filed in and took their seats and were delighted when Professor Flitwick announced that they were ready to start making objects fly. He split them into pairs; Harry with John, Ron with Hermione, much to both of their displeasure, and Sherlock with Castiel on the other side of the room.

'Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!' squeaked Professor Flitwick. 'Swish and flick and enunciate, we don't want anyone with a buffalo on their chest.'

It was a lot more difficult than they anticipated, though not to Sherlock, who proved it by levitating his feather across the room and tickling John's nose with it. John sneezed violently and glared at Sherlock for breaking his concentration. Moments later, however, it was broken again by a sharp jab to the head from Ron, who was swinging his arms wildly in an attempt to work the spell.

'You're saying it wrong,' they heard Hermione snap. 'It's Wing- gar- dium Levi-o- sa, make the "gar" nice and long.'

Sherlock made his feather spin in mid-air and watched uninterestedly as everyone else was still trying to work the spell. Hermione was the first, apart from Sherlock, to levitate her feather, quickly followed by Castiel, who beamed proudly. Castiel had become far more cheerful lately and Sherlock noted the lack of any post at all. Whoever had been blowing him up clearly thought they were drawing too much attention to themselves, or they were planning something big. He had also noticed that Lucy was frequently absent from breakfast and pointed this out to Mycroft. Reluctant though he was to talk to his brother, Mycroft was Head Boy and had ears and eyes everywhere.

By the end of the class, Ron was fuming and they followed him out into the crowded corridor, which parted partially, thanks to Sherlock and his crutches.

'It's no wonder no one can stand her,' he said as they pushed their way through the masses of bodies. 'She's a nightmare, honestly.'

Sherlock rounded on him instantly.

'You're intimidated because she's vastly more intelligent than you,' he said, narrowing his eyes.

'Wha- no way!'

'She was just trying to help you, so why were you so irritated by her?'

'She- she was shoving it in my face! "I'm Hermione and I'm so much better than all of you-"'

'I do that too but you don't have a problem with me.'

Ron kept his eyes fixed on Sherlock's crutches, which he was now brandishing angrily.

'I never said I don't have a problem with you-'

'So what's the difference?'

'You are being a bit mean,' John said reasonably.

'I'm not the only one that thinks so, she doesn't have any friends,' Ron cried defensively. Someone knocked into Harry and he looked round to glimpse a tearful Hermione before she barged past.

'I think she heard you.'

Sherlock humphed contemptuously and walked off, throwing his crutches aside furiously as he went. John rolled his eyes and went after him, gathering up his crutches. Castiel dithered for a moment but decided to go to his next lesson instead of chasing after Sherlock.

Hermione didn't turn up to their next lesson, though John sidled in sheepishly half-way through, nor was she seen for the rest of the afternoon.

Harry, Ron and John were joined by Castiel on their way down to the Hallowe'en feast and informed them that Sherlock had been missing all afternoon as well. When they entered the Great Hall, Ron glanced around and looked guilty when Hermione still hadn't appeared. He looked still more awkward when they overheard Parvati Patil telling Lavender Brown that Hermione had been crying in the girls' toilet and wanted to be left alone. Their thoughts were distracted from Hermione, however, when Mycroft came and dragged Castiel back to the Ravenclaw table ('Everyone sits at their House tables for the feast') as live bats flapped about their heads.

The feast appeared on the golden plates just as suddenly as it had at the start-of-term feast and Harry was helping himself to a jacket potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the Hall, terror plain to see on his face. Everyone fell silent as they watched him run up to Dumbledore.

'Troll- in the dungeons- thought you ought to know,' he gasped before fainting at the foot of the table.

There were a few moments of shocked silence before the room exploded into screams and shouts. It took several firecrackers erupting from the end of Dumbledore's wand to regain everyone's attention.

'Prefects,' he rumbled, 'will escort their Houses back to their dormitories immediately.'

Percy was in his element.

'Gryffindors, this way! Stick together, first-years!' he beckoned to them. Mycroft and the Head Girl stood either side of the doors like pillars, making sure that no one got separated from their Houses.

Meanwhile, Sherlock was sitting on top of a toilet, listening to Hermione sniff in the next cubicle.

'You don't h-have t-t-to st-stay,' she choked.

'It's not like anything interesting will be happening at the feast, except perhaps Mycroft trying to eat all the sweets at once,' he said, staring up at the ceiling. Hermione uttered a watery laugh.

'Did you mean all the things you said?' she asked.

'Of course I did.'

'It was really- nice of you.'

'You sound surprised.'

A slight smile tugged at his lips.

'I didn't mean- I guess- it's just, after you broke that girl's nose I just didn't think that-'

'I was capable of being nice,' he finished. 'I see my reputation precedes me.'

'I-I didn't mean-'

'It's all right, Hermione, I would have assumed the same thing about me too.'

Silence fell, only broken by Hermione's sporadic sniffling. Then Sherlock heard a noise, like giant, lumbering footsteps.

'Sherlock-' Hermione began.

'Shh,' he hushed. The noise got louder and then stopped. Then there was a loud grunt and a scraping of a key in a lock, Sherlock remembered seeing a key in the lock of the toilets. He slowly and carefully opened the cubicle door and found himself gazing up at a fully-grown mountain troll. It hadn't seen him yet so he took the opportunity to examine it. Hermione exited her cubicle and let loose an ear-splitting scream that made Sherlock jump violently. The troll turned its great ugly head to look down at them and snarled menacingly. Sherlock grabbed Hermione and had just pulled her to the far end of the room when there was a frantic scraping at the door and Harry, Ron and John burst through the door. The troll was advancing on them, sinks of the wall as it went.

'Sherlock?' John shouted in surprise. 'What are you doing in the girls' toilet?'

'Not really the time, John,' he shouted back, racing through everything he knew about trolls. They were extremely stupid and slow, although their enormous size generally made up for that. They had small ears and eyes and were easily confused. An idea struck him.

'Confuse it!' he shouted. Harry seized a tap and threw it at the wall, making a loud clanging sound. The troll lumbered around to see what was making the noise. It decided on Harry and raised its club. The others, bar Hermione, dashed around it and picked up bits of debris and started throwing it.

'Oy, pea-brain!' Ron yelled, throwing a lead pipe at it. It didn't seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard Ron shouting and turned towards him instead. Harry dashed around the troll to grab Hermione and Sherlock pelted both of his crutches at it to keep its attention on him. John panicked and pointed his wand at it. He merely shot a few gold sparks at it but it infuriated the troll. It roared and swung its club at John. Sherlock, seeing this, dived on John, pushing him out of the way of the club but ending up being pinned under a pile of rubble. Harry and Ron continued to shout and throw things at the troll until it got so confused that it lunged at Ron, who had nowhere to run to. Sherlock and John were still trying to wriggle their way out from under the rubble so Harry desperately ran at the troll and jumped, somehow managing to fasten his arms around its neck. The troll didn't notice Harry dangling from its neck, but certainly felt Harry's wand sticking painfully up its nostril, as it had still been in his hand as he jumped. Hermione was still pressed against the back wall in fright and Harry clung on for dear life, knowing that at any second the troll could rip him off or catch him a blow from its giant, heavy club. Ron drew his wand and frantically cast the first spell that came into his head: 'Wingardium Leviosa!'

The club flew suddenly from the troll's hand and hung in the air for a few seconds; it turned slowly over and dropped sickeningly on the troll's head. It swayed dizzily on the spot and fell flat on its face.

Harry got shakily to his feet and he and Ron went over and pulled Sherlock and John out of the rubble.

'Is it- dead?' Hermione asked, trembling. Sherlock bent to examine it.

'I don't think so- just knocked out,' he said, dusting himself off.

Harry bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose, John was impressed that it hadn't broken, and grimaced at it- it was covered in what looked like lumpy grey glue.

'Eurgh- troll bogies.'

Harry wiped it on the troll's trousers.

They hadn't realised up until now how much racket they had been making, though someone downstairs must have heard all the crashing and the troll roaring, as Professor McGonagall burst in, followed by Snape and Quirrell.

Ron was still holding his wand aloft and they had never seen McGonagall so angry. Furious wouldn't even begin to cover it. Quirrell took one look at the troll and quickly sat down on a toilet in terror. Harry wished Ron would lower his wand, because McGonagall was glaring at them in cold fury. Sherlock wasn't particularly fazed by McGonagall and went rooting around in the debris for his crutches, and was quite pleased to find them crushed to bits.

'What on Earth were you thinking of!' Professor McGonagall demanded. 'Why aren't you in your dormitories?'

Harry looked down at the floor, willing Ron to put down his wand. John couldn't think of anything to say, then a small voice came out of the shadows.

'Please, Professor McGonagall- they were looking for me.'

'Miss Granger!' McGonagall exclaimed.

'I went looking for the troll because I-I thought I could handle it because, you know- I've read all about them.'

Ron dropped his wand in shock. Hermione Granger telling a downright lie to a teacher?

'If they hadn't come and found me, I'd probably be dead by now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose and Ron knocked it out with its own club. Sherlock's lost his crutches too. They didn't have time to fetch anyone because it was about to finish me off when they got here.'

They all followed Sherlock's lead and tried to look as if this story wasn't new to them.

'Well in that case…' she stared around at all of them, 'you foolish girl, Miss Granger. This is exactly the sort of behaviour I'd expect from Holmes, but not from you, how could you even think of tackling a troll on your own?'

Hermione hung her head in shame and John couldn't believe his ears. Hermione was the last person to be doing something directly against the rules, it was as if Snape had started giving out sweets.

'Five points from Gryffindor for your serious lack of judgement. I am extremely disappointed in you. If you're not hurt, you had best go back to Gryffindor Tower- students are finishing the feast in their Houses.'

Hermione left.

Professor McGonagall turned to the four boys.

'I hope you boys know how lucky you are, not many first-years can take on a mountain troll. Five points will be awarded to each of you and Professor Dumbledore will be informed.'

She dismissed them and they ran out of the room.

'So why were you in the girl's toilet?' John asked Sherlock.

'I was looking for Hermione, obviously,' he replied.

'Oh, I see,' John smirked. Sherlock gave him a withering look and hurried off in the direction of Ravenclaw Tower.

'Wish she'd given us more than fifteen points,' Ron grumbled.

'Ten, once you've taken off Hermione's,' Harry corrected.

'I think we were lucky not to be expelled,' said John.

'It was good of her to get us out of trouble like that. Mind you we did save her,' Ron said.

'She wouldn't have needed saving if we hadn't locked her that thing in with her,' Harry reminded him. They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

'Pig snout,' they said and they entered the common room. It was packed and noisy as the feast was still in full swing, but Hermione was standing by the door, waiting for them. There was an awkward silence where none of them looked at each other until they all muttered 'thanks' and hurried off to get plates.

But from that moment on, Hermione Granger became their friend. There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.

Thanks to Silverdragonstar, mightyBookworm, hogwartsmockingjaysilvertoun ge, Luckyreader2000, RRW and Bookslover21, my lovely reviewers. I love all of you and I can't tell you how much I appreciate you taking the time to read this.