HPMM106-120

Chapter 106

Hedwig tried to give him an angry hoot, but it sounded

more like a very happy and very un-owl-like trill.

"Now, just let me seal this, then I can have you take it to

Andromeda, alright?"

Hedwig gave him an affirmative hoot/trill, and Harry

stopped stroking her head to grab the envelope next to the

letter.

He carefully placed the letter in the envelope, then sealed

it using the spell he had been taught by the recipient of the

letter. The spell conjured a blob of melted wax that

attached to the closed envelope and soon took the form of

the Potter Crest: a coat of arms shaped like a roman kite

shield with a Griffin being enveloped by the wings of a

Phoenix in the center. Below the shield was the family

motto: Audentes Fortuna Iuvat, Fortune Favors the Bold.

The moment Harry sealed the letter, Hedwig stuck her leg

out, making it quite clear what she wanted. Harry withheld

a chuckle as he attached the letter to her leg. It was

amusing to see the owl getting so impatient, but then, that

was Hedwig for you.

"Be safe," Harry said as he finished tying the letter to

Hedwig's leg. The snowy owl gave a soft hoot, nipped his

finger, then took off, flying out of the very window she had

used to enter.

Harry looked out of the window for a second, wondering

what he should do while waiting for Neville and everyone

else to wake up. Perhaps he could read a good book...

XoX

Time passed and Harry found himself becoming extremely

busy. Between spending time with his friends, working in

class, his own private studies and now the new and

insane Quidditch practice developed by Oliver Wood,

Harry had discovered that despite only catching four hours

of sleep each day, he was having difficulty keeping up with

everything.

The biggest problem, Harry thought, was most definitely

the new Quidditch practice that Oliver was putting him and

the rest of the team through. The man was truly fanatical

when it came to the sport, even more so than Tracey! Only

now, after having suffered under the man's tutelage, did

Harry realize what those shudders Fred, George,

Angelina, and Alicia had given meant when they saw that

maniacal gleam in the Gryffindor Quidditch captains eyes.

Quidditch practice was always held five times a week and

was always first thing in the morning at five o'clock sharp.

Harry was very glad he woke up earlier than that because

he had seen, or rather heard, Oliver's wake up call for the

other members of their team and it was not pleasant in the

least.

Oliver was a very hard task master when it came to

training. The training sessions lasted from five o'clock to

seven, two hours of what the other members described as

the most hellacious torture they had ever endured. Harry

didn't think it was torture, but he would admit that most

normal people would never dare to think of doing some of

the things Oliver had them do.

One of Oliver's favorite mottos seemed to be 'a strong

body equals a strong player,' because for the first hour of

their training it was all physical work outs. Running laps

around the Quidditch Pitch, push ups, sit ups, squats,

crunches, you name it, Oliver would most likely have them

do it. During these times the only two people who did not

suffer from exhaustion was Oliver himself, who did nearly

twice as much as everyone else, and Harry who, while not

in good of shape as Oliver, was still able to complete all

the exercises and then some.

Oliver had never been so happy to find someone who

believed in exercise just as much as he did that he nearly

cried. It had actually been kind of frightening.

The last hour was always a mix of things. Sometimes they

would have a strategy session, others they would practice

Quidditch Plays.

This was the hardest part for Harry. Despite being a good

athlete and in great shape, he had never played Quidditch

before. It wasn't like football where you only had to watch

one ball, the other players, and make sure the ball got into

your opponents goal while making sure to keep it away

from your own goal. There was so much more involved in

the sport. The Chasers had to constantly keep an eye out

for the Bludgers, the other players, the Quaffle, and the

goal posts while trying to score a point by getting the

Quaffle into their opponent's post. Meanwhile, the Beaters

had to keep the Bludgers away from their Chasers and

Seeker, while also trying to break up the plays of the other

team by sending the Bludgers at them. It wasn't as hard

as the Chaser position, but it still took quite a bit of work.

The Seeker, in some ways, had the easiest job. All they

had to do was find and capture the Snitch before the other

team's Seeker did. Once that happened it was almost

guaranteed that that team who caught the Snitch would

win, provided the other team didn't have a 160 point lead.

Of course, all that became irrelevant when Harry had

scowled at Oliver and told him they would be making plays

that involved him working with the Chasers, as well as

helping the Beaters break up the other teams plays. The

two of them had argued about it for some time, Oliver

being of the belief that Harry should focus on finding the

Snitch, and Harry believing he should help the team until

the Snitch presented itself to him.

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Chapter 107

Granted, Oliver didn't know about Harry's memory

advantage so he didn't know that Harry would spot the

snitch so long as it was not hiding, and if it was hiding it

wouldn't matter anyways because the other player

wouldn't find it either. In the end, Oliver had only agreed

after Harry had shown him consecutively that he could still

find the Snitch quickly while helping the Chasers and

Beaters through their practice matches.

As the days moved along October 1st soon changed into

October 31st, Halloween Day and the day Harry Potter

lost both of his parents exactly 11 years ago.

XoX

The school had gone all out to decorate the Great Hall.

Orange and black streamers hovered above the

permanently charmed ceiling, swaying in an undetectable

breeze. Large pumpkins with jack-o-lantern carvings were

on display around the room and on the five tables. Bats

flew through the hair, ducking and weaving around

banners. pumpkins, and the people sitting at the tables

laughing and chatting merrily away. The entire place held

an air of festivity.

And that was to say nothing about the food. Ham, Turkey,

Chicken, Yams, bread rolls, mash potatoes, and all kinds

of condiments sat on golden plates arrayed around the

pumpkin decorations; all of it charmed orange and black to

keep with the Halloween theme.

Yet Susan Bones was not smiling. She and her best

friend, Hannah Abbott, had been looking around the large

room for Harry Potter, but couldn't find the raven-haired

boy anywhere. She could see Neville sitting alone at the

Hufflepuff table, the seats around him unoccupied as most

people knew by now that when one of them was sitting

there they were reserved for the rest of their friends, but

Harry Potter, who always walked into the Great Hall with

Neville during meals, was not present.

"Come on, Sue," Hannah said, grabbing her friends arm

and pulling her along the to the table. "Maybe Neville

knows where he is."

Susan nodded noncommittally as she let her friend drag

her to the Hufflepuff table. Her eyes strayed to the

Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables, and noted that Harry

wasn't sitting at those tables either. Wanting to be

thorough but not really expecting to see him, she looked at

the Slytherin table as well.

As she thought, he was not there either, though she did

see Blaise and Tracey sitting next to Daphne Greengrass.

The two Slytherin students had yet to sit with them during

meals, but Susan figured it was because they didn't want

their blond friend to feel left out. Susan admired their

loyalty.

Soon enough, she and Hannah were sitting next to

Neville. Hannah had chosen to sit on the boy's left while

she sat on Hannah's left.

"Hullo, Neville," Hannah greeted in her usual friendly

manner. Neville, who had been playing with his food

looked up at her, his eyes unfocused. He blinked for a few

seconds before seeming to realize who had spoken to him

and smiled.

"Hullo, Hannah," he greeted, his tone only slightly distant.

"Is something wrong?" asked Susan, some of the worry

she felt leaking into her voice. Did Neville know the reason

Harry was not there? It would make sense if he did.

Neville was in Harry's house, after all.

"Not really," Neville said after a moment. "Just thinking?"

"About what?" asked Hannah.

"Stuff."

It was a very vague answer. Not at all like Neville.

They wanted to ask him about it, but before they could,

Lisa and Terry both arrived on the scene. They sat down

on the opposite side of the two Hufflepuffs and one

Gryffindor. After exchanging more greetings with each

other, Terry began piling food onto his plate, while Lisa

looked around with a small frown.

"Hey, Neville," she started, her pink lips turning

downwards. "Where's Harry?"

"He's not coming."

"What?" Susan blinked at the strange statement. "What do

you mean he's not coming? You mean he's not coming to

feast?"

"Yes."

The single word answer shocked Susan, and her other

friends from the looks of it. Harry didn't want to celebrate

Halloween with them? Why?

Almost immediately, her mind began working on trying to

discern the reason. He could be sick, but no, Harry

seemed pretty healthy, and wizards almost never get sick

unless it was a magical sickness, and they would know if

he had gotten one of those sicknesses, there would be

symptoms.

Perhaps something was depressing him. He hadn't

seemed particularly sad the last time they had spoken, but

then, it was very hard for her to figure out what Harry was

feeling. He could be on the verge of tears and she

doubted anyone would ever know.

There were dozens of possible reasons why Harry might

not be up for celebrating Halloween, and not one of them

seemed like the right reason. Each one seemed just as

unlikely as the last. Without having any information, Susan

couldn't even begin to guess why Harry didn't want to join

them.

"Wait," Terry started, a frown on his face. "Why isn't Harry

coming to the feast?"

Susan was startled to see the blank look that crossed

Neville's face. It was the first time he had ever looked at

someone like they'd just said something stupid.

"What day is today?" he asked, his tone almost sounding

conversational but carrying a hint of something Susan

couldn't identify.

Terry couldn't identify it either, because a strange look

crossed his face. "Halloween?" he asked, sounding almost

unsure of himself as he answered.

"Yes, Halloween," Neville said with a nod. "And do you

know why we celebrate Halloween?"

"Well, it's all Hallows Eve, right?" Lisa said, frowning as

she, too, wondered where this was going. Susan couldn't

blame her. She wondered the same thing. "It's the festival

of the dead, where we celebrate those who have passed

on and the ancient traditions and rituals many wizards of

old used to perform that have been lost to the ages."

"Yes, there is that," Neville agreed. "But there is another

event that happened on this day much more recently that

we celebrate."

Eyes widened in realization as they realized where this

was going.

"It's the day You-Know-Who was defeated!" Hannah

exclaimed excitedly.

"Yes, the day You-Know-Who was defeated," Neville said,

his nod still in place. Susan frowned when she saw the

look on his face. It was not the kind of happy look she

would have expected from someone celebrating such an

important day. She found out the reason a moment later.

"The day Harry Potter defeated You-Know-Who, the day

he became the Boy-Who-Lived. Did any of you stop to

think about why he gained that title?"

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Chapter 108

"Well, because he stopped You-Know-Who, right?" asked

Hannah, now sounding confused and a trifle uneasy.

Susan was beginning to feel the same way. She couldn't

help but feel there was something she was forgetting. "I

mean, that's what Dumbledore said. That he stopped the

killing curse You-Know-Who sent at him as a baby and

caused the man's downfall."

"And all it cost him to do so were his parents."

Silence. Despite the amount of jubilant noise around them,

the four who sat with Neville were completely silent as the

realization of why Harry was absent sunk in. After all, who

would want to celebrate the day their parents died?

Susan felt horrible. Here she was, thinking about how

much fun she was going to have on Halloween and what

she would be eating at the feast, and Harry Potter was

thinking about how his parents had been killed on that

same day. How could she be such an awful friend?

The others didn't look like they were doing any better. Lisa

and Hannah had a hand to their mouths, and Susan could

see unshed tears in their eyes. Terry looked like he was

about to be sick, his plate pushed aside as he lost his

appetite.

It was so easy to forget that the reason Harry Potter's title

as the Boy-Who-Lived came about because his parents

had died and he had not. Aside from that one time she

and Hannah first met him on the train, Harry never spoke

of his parent's deaths, never mentioned that it might still

bother him. But then, that was only natural right? Who

would want to think about how their parents were killed?

"It's very easy for people to forget what Harry lost that

day," Neville continued in a quiet tone, and Susan couldn't

help but feel there was something in his voice that said he

could relate to Harry in ways the others couldn't. "We only

ever think about the peace we were granted because of

what happened to Harry, and how famous he's for

surviving the killing curse. We never remember that on

that day, Harry lost both of his parents when he was only

one year old."

"Do you think..." Susan started, only to stop and wipe at

the tears in her eyes. She felt a sense of indefinable guilt

and sadness settle upon her. Halloween would never be

the same for her now that she realized how horrible it must

be for Harry. "Do you think we should go find him? You

know, to let him know we're here for him?"

"No," Neville said surely. "Harry informed me before I left

for the feast that he wanted to be alone. Besides, I doubt

we'd find him before curfew."

"Wouldn't he be in the library?" asked Lisa. "That's one of

his favorite spots."

"I doubt it. It would be too easy for someone to find him if

he went there. More than likely, Harry's somewhere

wandering through the halls. There are so many of those

in Hogwarts that it would take hours to search them all."

"I guess you're right," Hannah said, her shoulders

slumping. She looked as defeated as Susan felt. Was she

feeling the same guilt currently racking Susan's mind?

Just then, the large doors to the Great Hall burst open and

in came Professor Quarrel. The man was a mess. His

robes were dirty and frayed and ripped, and his turban sat

askew on his head. His eyes were wide and frightened,

flickering back and forth, as if seeing some unknown

horror only he could see. He looked like he had seen a

ghost.

"TROLL IN THE DUNGEON!"

Or a troll.

With those words pandemonium soon broke out as

students started screaming and yelling and talking all at

once, a threnody of voices shouting in a symphony of fear.

Susan noticed that all of her friends were pale, probably

wondering the same thing she was. How could a troll get

into the school? Hogwarts was protected by a number of

powerful enchantments. While Susan didn't know what

any of those enchantments were, she could only assume

there was something to keep trolls out. It seemed that

wasn't the case.

Professor Quirrel fainted in a dead fright, falling to the

ground face first while the other Professors tried to restore

order. Albus Dumbledore stood to his feet, the twinkle in

his eyes gone as he pulled out his wand and thrust it into

the air.

There was a loud 'bang!' like the sound of a muggle canon

being fired. The silence became so deafening afterward

that it almost seemed as if time had come to a standstill.

"There is no need for alarm or panic," Professor

Dumbledore began in a calm tone. "I want all prefects to

lead their Houses to their dormitories immediately. The

professors and I will go down and deal with the troll."

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Chapter 109

There was a mad scramble as prefects tried to take

control of the students. The teachers were all leaving, no

doubt going to deal with the troll before it could run across

any of the students. It was only as she stood up to go over

to her prefect that she remembered something that

caused dread to well up inside of her.

She whirled on her friends.

"Harry doesn't know about the troll."

One look at the others made her realize they had a similar

thought. All of them were just as terrified at the thought as

her. Susan felt like she was going to be sick.

This, she concluded, as fear for her friend settled in her

gut, was the worst Halloween ever.

Harry waved his wand over the teapot sitting on the table.

The teapot gave a brief shudder, then it began to change.

It's form melted, flowing like liquid metal until it became an

amorphous blob. Then that changed shape as well, six

points protruded out of it to form four legs, a head, and a

tail. The center began to flatten while the top maintained

its somewhat dome-like shape.

Details began becoming clearer. Sharper. More defined.

Bumpy ridges formed along what now looked like a shell.

The skin along its legs became hard, rough, and gained a

scaly appearance. Large toes with thick, pointed toenails

formed at the ends. The head became sharper. A mouth

formed along with a set of eyes and pronounced brow

ridges. The skin became rough and leathery, while several

wrinkles took shape under an elongated neck. Finally, a

small, stubby tail began protruding from the other end of

the shell.

Then it began to change color, going from the boring

coppery color of the teapot to more earthy tones, grays

and browns for the skin, and rusty greens and yellows for

the shell. He added a few scratch marks onto the shell to

give it a worn, used look for good measure. Sighing

deeply, he finished the transfiguration with a flourish.

The whole process had taken close to five minutes. A lot

longer than any of his other transfigurations had taken so

far. Then again, this was third year course material, so

perhaps he shouldn't be too surprised.

Wanting to see how good of a job he had done, Harry

walked around the tortoise, inspecting it for any

imperfections. It was a tad disconcerting how the tortoise's

head moved along to follow him, its neck craning to keep

its creator in sight, but he did his best to ignore the action

in favor of his inspection.

It wasn't bad for a first attempt, Harry thought to himself,

but it could use some improvements. The feet were

malformed. He could see small areas that still looked like

the metal along its shell. And while the head was shaped

well enough, its brow ridges were too large. Not perfect,

but he would improve with practice.

He also needed to work on the amount of time it took. He

remembered when Professor McGonagall had turned her

desk into a pig. The whole transfiguration had only taken a

second. If he wanted to get that good, he would need to

practice.

Waving his wand over the tortoise again, he undid the

transfiguration and watched silently as it changed back

into a teapot. At least his skills and untransfiguring objects

and animals was getting a lot better.

Giving thoughts to his growing transfiguration skills, Harry

had to admit that he was pleased with the progress he'd

made. It had only been a month since he started and

already he was doing third year transfiguration spells.

Right now he was working on medium scale organic to

inorganic, and inorganic to organic transfigurations.

Changing medium sized animals to medium sized objects

and visa versa. It was hard work, requiring both a lot of

power and a lot of concentration, which was the reason

transfiguration was such a difficult subject. It required a lot

more concentration than Charms did.

It probably had something to do with how dangerous

transfiguration was, he theorized. With Charms there

wasn't much of a chance of something blowing up in your

face unless your name was Seamus Finnegan. If you

didn't do a Charm correctly it simply wouldn't work. On the

other hand, transfigurations had the habit of turning deadly

if done incorrectly. Granted, right now he wasn't doing

anything potentially lethal yet, but once he got into human

transfiguration things would get difficult.

There was also the fact that when transfiguring an object

you needed to know what you wanted to change. With

Charms you simply imagined what you wanted to happen,

waved your wand with the correct movements, canted the

incantation and it would work so long as you did

everything correctly. When transfiguring it took more than

just a basic imagination, wand waving and chanting. You

had to see what you wanted to change in your mind,

watch as the teapot transformed into the tortoise, or the

rabbit change into the slippers. The more detailed the

image in your mind, the better your transfiguration would

be in real life.

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.

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Chapter 110

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.

By the time Harry's mind caught up with the rest of his

body, he realized that his legs were already taking him to

the screams. He ran down the hall, turned a corner, cut

down another hall, then turned left at the end. The scream

sounded again, followed by a roar, followed by more

shattering, and Harry soon stood in front of the girl's

bathroom. The door was open.

Harry didn't even slow down as he bodily flew toward the

entrance, running into the room without hesitation, only to

skid to a stop at the sight before him.

The scene was not a pleasant one. The entire bathroom

looked like a hurricane had swept through it, then a

tornado decided to join in on the fun for good measure. All

around the room lay broken and scattered pieces of

toilets, stall doors, and chunks of twisted metal that looked

like a giant had chewed them up, then spat them back out

when he found their taste to be unpleasant.

He could see Hermione Granger huddled under the sink in

the far corner, the only sink left, her form shivering in fear.

And looming above her was the largest, ugliest creature

he had ever seen.

It looked human, or at least humanoid. It stood on two

large feet attached to equally large, ungainly legs. It wore

nothing more than a loin cloth and a frayed looking

sleeveless shirt to cover its body. A large belly hung over

the front of its loin cloth, looking like those pot belly's that

hung out of people's shirts and spilled over their pants; the

kind of stomach Harry saw on people who were too lazy to

exercise and drank too much alcohol. The massive,

hulking figure had equally large hands. They looked like

they could squash a human flat if given the chance. In one

of those hands, the monster was gripping a large, wooden

club, clearly the cause of the destruction to the room.

His gaze finally settled on the thing's face. Its head was

disturbingly small compared to the rest of its body. It had a

very dopey-looking facial expression. The creature's

general features denounced a lack of intelligence. Black

beady eyes were set above a large nose under an equally

large mouth that had drool hanging from its lower lip, and

he could see stained yellow teeth in its open mouth. It

looked like a cross between a mentally deranged

Rottweiler and a deformed baby. He recognized it from his

self-study in defense as a troll.

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Chapter 111

It had stopped with its club half raised above his head and

was looking right at him. Harry couldn't decide if that was

good or not, but at least it meant Hermione was safe... for

the moment.

Not wanting to be crushed by the creature or smacked by

its club by getting too close, Harry flicked his wand at

several broken pieces of toilet. The objects lifted into the

air, hovering there, and another flick of his wand sent them

sailing directly at the creature, pelting its face.

The beast roared and started swinging both its club and its

free hand to try and swat the large chunks of toilet seat

fragments out of the sky. Another flick of Harry's wrist sent

even more broken objects flying at the creature, effectively

distracting it.

"What are you doing just standing there!?" Harry asked,

shouting at Hermione to be heard above the angry

roaring. The girl looked at him like she had never seen him

before, her mouth hanging open dumbly and her eyes

wide. He wouldn't be surprised if she was going into

shock. At least her trembling stopped. "Get over here!"

Hermione scrambled to her feet. The troll roared again

and made to step toward her, but Harry sent another part

of the rooms broken décor at it. The stall door smacked it

in the face, causing it to bellow in both surprise and pain

as it staggered back. In that time, Hermione ran over to

him, and Harry did not waste another second in grabbing

her hand and pulling her through the door in a dead sprint.

They had barely made it 10-feet from the bathroom when

a loud roar sounded out. The sound was followed by the a

loud crash as the troll smashed through the bathrooms

entrance, sending stone fragments bouncing along the

walls and floor.

It looked around, its head swiveling left and right before it

spotted them running down the hall. Another loud bellow

leapt from its gaping maw and it soon began charging

them, its large feet smacking against the stone floor with

the sound of war drum as it began to quickly catch up with

its larger strides.

"Dammit!" Harry hissed as he let go of Hermione's hand

and spun around. His wand was out quicker than the

human eye could blink. He waved it at the suit of armor

closest to the rampaging troll. The suit lifted off the ground

and flew at the creature, smacking it flush in the face.

The troll angry bellow reverberated along the walls as its

club swung down, hitting the chest plate. A loud noise

issued from the plate mail, like the crack of thunder. The

chest plate squealed as it dented and went flying into a

wall where it dented some more, the wall itself cracking

under the powerful blow.

Harry swore as the creature forgot about the armor

entirely and turned its sights back on them. He looked left

to see Hermione staring at the monstrosity in fear and

swore some more.

"What the hell are you still doing here!?" he demanded.

Hermione turned to him, her eyes wide and her face pale.

"Get out of here! Go!"

"But—" Hermione tried to argue feebly, but Harry was

having none of it.

"GO!"

In accordance with Harry's desires his magic flowed out,

connecting to Hermione, compelling her to run. Normally, it

would be very difficult to compel a magical being to do

anything, especially subconsciously like Harry was doing,

but with his desperation fueling his already powerful

magic, the compulsion managed to take hold despite

Hermione's resilience. The mousy-haired brunette's eyes

widened as the desire to flee overcame her, and her body

responded to the external stimulus by turning on the spot

and bolting down the corridor.

His sigh of relief was short lived as the troll had closed in

on him during his preoccupation. It swung its club down

with a loud grunt, the heavy wooden object moving far

faster than should be possible for something of its size.

Harry dodged by moving into a forward shoulder-roll that

took him past the clubs point of impact. The club smacked

the ground where he had been, denting it, sending cracks

along the stone surface. Harry continued his roll, moving

under the troll's legs.

He kipped back to his feet when he was behind it, his

wand flashing out again, pointing at the creature's legs as

he sent a leg-locking jinks. The spell struck the creature's

left leg, only for nothing to happen. No straightening of

limbs that had been locked in place. No loss of balance as

the leg stiffened up. Nothing. It was as if the spell hadn't

affected the troll at all.

Harry's eyes barely had time to widen as the troll spun

around. It's club sailed towards him, the air screeching

around it due to the speed with which it moved. Harry

barely avoided the attack by letting himself fall backwards.

He fell onto his back, then rolled with the move, before

kipping back up to his feet and beginning to back pedal.

His wand arm flashed out, a slashing motion that he

directed at the beast. A bright white light shot from the tip

of his wand, the stinging hex hitting the troll in the belly,

but again, there seemed to be little effect beyond the

creature getting annoyed.

It roared at him, whether angered at not hitting him or the

stinging hex, Harry didn't know. Whatever the case was, it

came charging in once again and Harry was forced to

sidestep another club swipe. He flicked his wand arm at

another suit of armor and sent it at the creature, then

another flick caused the suit to split into multiple pieces

that floated around the beast in an effort to distract it, while

he tried to figure out why none of his spells were working.

Could it be that he wasn't putting enough power into his

spells? That skin of it's looked tough. Maybe if he just put

more power into his spells...

While the troll was busy trying to swat the armor out of the

air, Harry sent another stinging hex its way, this time with

much more power than before. The spell soared through

the air, a bright white light that smacked against the troll's

hide.

The troll let out a roar of annoyance and Harry's eyes

narrowed when he saw that the spell had not even left a

mark. On a human, a stinging hex of that power would

have left a welt the size of his head for several days

without magical treatment...

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Chapter 112

Were the situation not so dire, Harry would have groaned

as he realized the problem. Of course. This creature just

had to be magically resistant. That was the only

explanation he could think of. Trolls were magical

creatures, more so than a witch or wizard. It must have a

very high level of resistance to most compulsion spells,

minor hexes and jinks. Only a high level spell would be

able to damage this thing.

Which meant Harry was pretty much out of luck. He hadn't

studied offensive spells beyond the few taught in first year

Defense Against the Dark Arts. He hadn't seen a need to.

After all, why should he expect any kind of danger at a

school protected by some of the most powerful

enchantments known to wizard kind? Instead he had

focused his efforts and private studies on transfiguration in

preparation for becoming an animagus.

He was beginning to regret that decision now.

As the troll let out another roar and decided to ignore

bashing the armor with his club in favor of smashing

through the small blockade of floating objects to get to

him, Harry decided that if he managed to survive this

encounter, the first thing he would do was begin looking

up offensive spells.

Dodging swing after swing from the much larger being's

club, Harry had never been more thankful for his martial

arts training. The troll was not only stronger than him, but

also incredibly fast, much faster than he would have ever

expected a creature of that size to be. As things stood, the

only reason Harry had not become a bloody smear on the

ground was because of his experience in fighting

opponents much more skilled than it (Master Wei), who

didn't telegraph their moves to him.

Not that this creature's poorly telegraph moves mattered.

Its hide was too tough for his spells to work against it, and

its body too strong and durable for him to think of taking it

on up close. As far as he could see, there was simply no

way someone with a few weak first year defense spells

could beat it. And unfortunately, if he did not defeat it, then

it would kill him. He only needed to slip up once and he

would be dead.

Well, if he couldn't beat it, maybe he could make it beat

itself. Master Wei had always told him that if an opponent

was too strong for him to beat, then he should find some

way to use their strength against them. First he would

have to find some way to get rid of that club, then maybe

he could –

"HARRY!"

– His thoughts derailed, Harry's eyes widened in both

shock and horror as he saw Hannah, Lisa, Neville, Susan

and Terry rounding a corner. What the hell were they doing

here!?

The five stopped upon seeing him, their bodies freezing in

fear as they realized he was currently in a life or death

struggle with a troll nearly three times their height and

several dozen times their weight.

Harry dodged another club swing and flicked his wand at a

helmet that had fallen to the ground, sending it hurtling at

the troll's face. There was a loud clang as it smacked the

creature, and the troll roared in both pain and anger,

giving Harry enough time to try and convince his friends to

run.

"What the bloody hell are you guys doing here!?" Shouted

Harry. Another flick of his wand followed. Another piece of

discarded armor crashed into the troll, angering it further.

"Get out of here! Go find a teacher!"

Surprisingly enough, it was Neville who stepped forward,

his wand clutched tightly in his shivering fist. In fact, his

entire body was shivering. Despite the fear he obviously

felt, he didn't seem to be leaving.

"We-we're n-not going t-t-to leave you," he muttered

frightfully, his eyes wide and his breathing labored as he

stared at the behemoth in front of them. He was clearly

terrified of going up against the troll. The others said

nothing, busy as they were staring in fear at the thing.

"You can't do any good here!" Harry countered frantically

as he began magically throwing more and more objects at

the troll to keep it distracted. It was working, partially at

least. It wasn't looking at his friends, though by now it had

figured out that he was causing the objects to attack it and

was only swatting the armor that blocked its way to him.

"RUN! Go find a teacher!"

In spite of his words, none of them ran. Hannah, Susan

and Lisa stood where they were, quivering in the presence

of a beast few adult wizards could take down. Terry didn't

look much better, but at least he had his wand out.

"I'm not leaving!" Neville shouted, and despite the tremor

in his voice, he held his wand aloft. He made a jerky

slashing motion and sent a stinging hex the troll's way.

The hex fizzled out before it could make it even halfway

there. Neville had always had troubles with defensive

spells, and in a situation like this, where his terror was

nearly overpowering him, the chances of him

accomplishing a spell was close to zero.

However, while the stinging hex may not have done

anything to its intended target, it did have the effect of

snapping Terry out of his stupor. The Ravenclaw first year

sent his own hex at the troll, and it did hit the beast. Right

on its rear.

Of course, the spell was not powerful enough for the troll

to even feel it. Thus it did nothing, and Harry was forced to

continue dodging the creature as he tried to convince his

friends to run.

"Dammit, Neville! None of you can do anything against

this thing! Its too strong! Get out of here now!"

Neville didn't seem to be listening to Harry though. Instead

he had turned to the girls and Terry.

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Chapter 113

"We need to help him!" he said, his tone desperate,

pleading. "Come on you guys! We need to do something!"

Lisa snapped out of her fright first. She looked at the troll,

then at Neville, then at the other four with her.

"Maybe we could... if we attack it together we might be

able to do something."

"It's as good a plan as any," Terry muttered in a shaky

voice. He held up his wand and sent another stinging hex

the troll's way with both Neville and Lisa doing the same.

Neville's fizzled out again. Lisa's and Terry's hit, but it still

didn't do anything.

"Come on you two," Neville pleaded with Susan and

Hannah. "We need your help."

Hannah sucked in a deep breath, then turned wide eyes to

Neville. After a moment, she closed her eyes and tried to

control her frantic breathing. She still looked frightened,

but it seemed as if she was at least not allowing it to

control her. Susan came around at the same time and

looked at Harry, her eyes gaining a determined glint that

shown clearly under her fear.

"Ok," she whispered as she and Susan both pulled out

their wands. Lisa, Neville and Terry followed suit, and all

five of them sent a stinging hex at the troll. This time the

spells not only hit, but the combined stinging hexes

actually caused the creature to yowl in pain as it stumbled

forward. Harry used the distraction to send another piece

of armor at its face in the hopes it would stay focused on

him.

It was not to be. It seemed that the combined stinging

hexes hurt more than the armor hitting it had, and thus the

troll deemed the five behind it a larger threat.

Harry swore as it spun around and began charging at the

five with an earth-shattering bellow. Even worse, his

friends had frozen when they saw the behemoth rushing

towards them with its club arm raised. He needed to do

something and he needed to do it fast if he wanted to get

all of them out of this in once piece.

In a last ditch effort, Harry pumped massive amounts of

magic through his body, enhancing it beyond anything he

had ever done before. He wouldn't be able to hold it for

long, not without suffering severe consequences, but it

would hopefully be enough for this.

He raced down the hall, his magically enhanced body

almost but not quite matching the troll's own loping speed.

Damn those much longer legs. He needed to slow this

thing down.

A flick of his wrist and several dozen pieces of armor

crashed into the creature's legs and feet, making it

stumble. It lost its balance, crashing onto its hands and

knees. Harry used that time to catch up and then did the

unthinkable, not to mention the incredibly stupid.

He jumped onto its back.

It was hands down the dumbest thing he had ever done in

his life, but Harry was barely even thinking straight at this

point.

He flicked his wand and a stream of rope shot out. It

looped around the troll's neck three times, then Harry

caught the end with his other hand and tightened it.

The troll jerked upwards to its feet with an angry roar, its

club lying forgotten on the ground. Its hands reached back

to try and grab him, but the rope keeping him up began

lengthening and Harry slid onto its lower back where it

couldn't reach him.

For a moment, Harry dared to hope he had finally been

given some breathing room. The troll couldn't reach him,

he was finally up close, and he had a small window of

opportunity to hurt it, if he could actually find a means to

hurt it.

That thought was dashed into tiny pieces when the troll,

unable to remove him from its back, began thrashing

around like a raging bull in an effort to throw him off.

Harry was flung about like a rag doll. His right hand

remained grasping the end of the rope tightly, while his left

still had his wand clutched firmly, but that meant little when

the rope had so much slack that his body was still violently

flung off the troll's back. He could only count his blessings

that the troll had not yet smacked him into a wall as there

would be little to no chance of him getting up from that.

Seeing his plight, his friends once more began casting

stinging hexes at the troll. Despite there good intentions,

however, it was probably the worst decision they could

have made. Rather than bring the beast down, the spells

merely enraged it further. Its thrashing and shaking and

floundering picked up in intensity, and Harry found himself

getting smacked into several suits of armor that banged

up his legs and back as he was tossed about like a fruit

salad being handled by a mad chef on crack.

Barely containing his flinch when the bones in his shin

snap as they hit hard metal, Harry began shunting the

pain to the side and focused on reeling the rope in so he

could find better purchase on the troll's back. No matter

what happened, if he wanted to have any hope of

surviving the next few seconds much less this encounter,

he needed to have some kind of footing to keep steady.

It wasn't an easy task, especially with how violent the troll

shook and the amount of pain his legs were in, but he had

felt far worse before. The rope tightened as it 'moved' back

into his wand like a fishing line being reeled in. His feet

touched the troll's back and, for a moment, Harry began

hoping that he would have some time to think up a plan.

Even a second to catch a breather would be nice.

Apparently, it was too much to hope for.

The troll felt his feet as they planted themselves on its

back and, having not had any luck catching him so far,

decided to do probably the only thing it could to get him

off.

It rammed into the wall back first.

Harry would have screamed in pain as the feeling of being

crushed by mountains of muscle and the dense, hard

granite of the wall speared through his body, but all of the

air had been driven from his lungs, so all that came out

was a pained rush of breath and a shaky gasp.

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Chapter 114

He could feel his rib cage being brutally crushed by the

surprise move. It was like nothing he had ever felt before.

Like someone had just dropped an anvil on his chest, then

decided to have a several ton elephant jump on him for

good measure. It was pain beyond all belief and

comprehension and nothing, not his spars with Master

Wei, nor the occasional lashing he received from Vernon

when he was younger, could have prepared him for this.

His vision began to blur. Everything became fuzzy, like the

white noise you see in old black and white photos.

Blackness invaded the edges of his vision.

Blood was beginning to fill his lungs. His mind, hazy from

the pain and beginning to darken, could not even begin to

catalog the damage done to him. But somewhere in the

back of his mind, he could tell that his ribs had been

crushed and several bone fragments from his ribcage had

penetrated his lungs.

Breathing was becoming difficult. Already he could feel

himself choking on the blood filling his air passages. Each

breath brought not only excruciating amounts of

asphyxiated agony, but also blood that spilled out of his

mouth and ran down his chin.

Somehow, he wasn't sure how, or even fully aware of it, he

still managed to keep a grip on his wand and the rope.

He couldn't help but wonder, as darkness continued to

encroach on his vision, was this how he was going to die?

Was this his end? Dying at the hands of a stupid beast

that somehow snuck into the castle? Killed before he

could ever achieve his dreams?

Such a thought would have normally left him in a rage, but

he was beginning to feel tired. Too tired to call up even the

smallest hint of anger, or any emotion for that matter. All

he wanted to do was sleep.

Yes, that sounded nice. A good long rest. He felt he

deserved that much at least.

"HARRY!"

Harry's eyes snapped open as the sound of five voices

made him realize that his friends were still there. If he died

now his friends would be killed. And despite any attempts

at telling himself otherwise they were his friends. They

weren't a means to an end anymore. He couldn't pretend

that he was only concerned about what an alliance with

them would bring. Where once it was all he concerned

with, the benefits brought about by their friendship now

seemed a trifling matter.

He might not care for them as much as he did Lisa Crawft,

but he did care for them. Over the course of this past

month he had come to greatly enjoy their presence. They

were all so different, yet at the same time, they meshed

together so well.

If variety is the spice of life, then they brought a lot of

spice into his life.

He couldn't let them die. He wouldn't let them die.

In a last act of desperation, Harry completely opened the

gates that kept his magic at bay. He could feel it beginning

to flood into his body, could feel the excess leaking from

him like an overflowing sieve.

And he could feel the small speck of darkness. The kernel

of something that was not him, but still there, an evil that

he had always known existed inside of himself, but had

never been able to get rid of.

Those thoughts and others were washed away as soon as

they came. They disappeared in an instant as the effect's

of unblocking all of his magic became reality. The blood

that had been choking him before stopped flooding his

lungs. The intense agonizing pain that was his crushed

ribcage diminished. And the fuzzy blackness that

threatened to overwhelm him was pushed back.

XXXX

Snape kept the near permanent sneer on his face as he

looked around at all of the other occupants within

Dumbledore's office. Filius Flitwick and Pomona Sprout

stood off to one side, speaking in hushed tones, the more

diminutive of the two making slight hand gesticulations

while the other one looked nervous. Knowing how

excitable they were Snape had no doubt their

conversation was about what happened with Potter and

the troll.

A frown made its way to his face and the urge to scowl

was just barely resisted. Snape wasn't quite sure what to

think of Potter. The spawn of the man he hated most. The

child of the woman he loved. When he first saw the brat

during the sorting ceremony, strutting up to the hat like he

owned the place, he had been sure the boy would be just

as arrogant and insufferable as his good for nothing father.

Now he wasn't sure what to think.

Off to the side opposite of him stood Minerva McGonagall,

his counterpart in many ways. She was his exact opposite

in all the ways that mattered, as a teacher and a person.

Her lips were drawn into a thin line and, though it was

slight, Snape could feel the anxiety coming off her in

waves. Most would never notice, but he had, and he was

sure that Dumbledore could see it as well.

The other teachers were there as well. The dark-skinned

beauty and Astronomy professor, Aurora Sinistra stood

between Professors Babbling and Vector, the Arithemancy

and Runes teachers respectively. Charity Burbage, the

Muggle Studies Professor, stood a little ways away from

the others, and Quirrel had squirreled himself in the back

close to the door.

Snape's sneer increased.

"Before we begin any extensive investigations into the

troll's appearance," the old headmaster began, forcing

Snape to look away from the turban wearing teacher and

focus on him. The required shifting needed to move that

little bit from staring at Quirrel to the aging headmaster

forced him to aggravate his right leg. He winced and

quickly shifted so that he favored his left. "I would like to

know how all of the students are doing. Minerva?"

The Deputy headmistress stepped forward.

"The Gryffindors are all fine and accounted for," she

started, then grimaced. "With the exception of Mr. Potter."

Snape followed her example. Thankfully, it went

unnoticed. "The only other two I am worried about is

Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom. From what I

understand, Harry rescued Hermione from the troll when

she was crying in the girl's restroom, and Neville was

there when Harry killed the troll. He is a bit shell shocked

right now. Not that I can blame him."

The line's around Minerva's eyes softened. It was almost

unnoticeable. She was very good at hiding her feelings,

but Snape could see it clear as day.

"Speaking of Harry, how is he doing?"

"He will live," Albus informed the room. There was a

collective sigh of relief from everyone except Snape, who

would never show such emotion to show, even if he was

relieved that the son of Lily Evans hadn't died. "Though

Madam Pomfrey informed me that he has a long way to

go before making a full recovery. I did not get much more

out of her before she kicked me out."

His attempt at humor fell on deaf ears. Snape rolled his

eyes.

"Now then, Filius, Pomona, Severus, how are your

students doing?"

"My Snakes are all fine," Snape drawled, yet on the inside

he was frowning. Two of his students had been quite

nervous when they heard the troll had landed Potter in the

hospital wing. Tracey Davis and Blaise Zabini. He had no

clue how they heard of the incident so quickly when all the

students had been confined to their common rooms, but

then, the Hogwarts rumor mill had always been quick

when it came to doling out information like this—even if

more than half the time that information is completely

inaccurate. He suspected the portraits to be involved

somehow. "They are, of course, a bit shaken. The troll had

first been spotted near the dungeons, after all."

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Chapter 115

"Aside from Terry and Lisa, my Raven's are doing well,"

Filius informed them. "The two of them are extremely

worried about Harry. I had to give them both a dreamless

sleeping potion in order to get them to bed. Had I not, I

dare say they would have stayed up all night."

"It's the same with the Badgers. Susan and Hannah were

quite distraught when they were brought in. Some of the

older years are comforting them now. The rest are fine."

"I see." Albus absentmindedly stroked his beard. "And

now, perhaps we can discover how it is that a troll

managed to find its way into our castle."

All eyes turned to Quirrel, who was doing his best

impression of a dear caught in the headlights. Snape's lips

curled distastefully at the man.

"T-th-that was the l-l-last troll that I-I-I was h-hoping to b-bbring in for the p-p-p-protections of the stone." Quirrel's

whole body seemed to shake with fear. "I-it managed t-t-to

escape my co-control and t-t-tried to k-k-k-kill me!"

Minvera's nostrils flared, and Snape sensed the woman

was close to blowing up. She had never approved of

letting trolls into Hogwarts. Not that Snape could blame

her. He was not very fond of the idea either.

"If you had wanted to bring in another troll, perhaps you

should have thought about telling myself or the

Headmaster first!" Quirrel quivered under her stern flare.

Snape narrowed his eyes at the man. "Even if you had

wanted to bring in another for added security, you wouldn't

have been able to deactivate the other protections without

the other teachers anyways."

The Defense teacher began to stutter out apologies, but

Dumbledore headed him off.

"What's done is done. We cannot undo the past, so let us

move forward. Severus, you were the one who

investigated the aftermath of the incident with the troll. Tell

me, what do you make of it?"

Snape did his best not to turn green as he remembered

what he had found upon arriving at the sight of the battle.

He had seen many disgusting things in his life, had

watched Death Eaters kill and rape and pillaged without

remorse, and had seen the gruesome aftermath of muggle

and pureblood families that were killed by the Dark Lord

himself and Bellatrix Lestrange. Very few things could

evoke any kind of negative response from him these days.

But the sight he came across in the corridor where he

found a bloody and broken Potter lying on top of a

headless troll had sickened even him. The horrid stench

released from the troll's blood certainly hadn't helped.

"I can only take a guess at what happened," Snape began

in the slow drawl he always used when talking. "From

what I can determine, Potter somehow leapt onto its back,

then managed to make its head explode after it tried to

crush his body against a wall." Gasps were heard from

Pomona, Aurora, Babbling and Vector. Minerva raised a

hand to her mouth, and Filius let out a stifled squeak.

"Troll's, as you know, have very thick, magically resistant

hides. Not including darker spells, only an extremely

powerful Reducto or Bombarda will do any damage to it.

That suggests Potter had used one of the more tender

spots on it's body to kill it. Given that he was on its back

when we found him and his friends, I believe he had stuck

his wand in the creature's ear."

"Are you saying that a first year managed to cast the

ReductorCurse?" Flitwick squeaked. "That's a very

powerful spell. I did not think a first year would ever be

capable of using it."

"I did not say Potter used either of those Curses," Snape

sneered. "The brat may have some modicum of talent." It

was almost painful to admit, but even he could not deny

that the son of Potter was talented. It most likely came

from his mother. "But there is no way a first year would

ever be capable using such an advanced spell. More than

likely I suspect it was accidental magic. Perhaps his magic

responded to his desperation and reacted in a manner

similar to the Bombarda."

"That would make a great deal of sense," Dumbledore

allowed pensively. "Harry is an extremely powerful

wizard." Snape scowled, but said nothing. "Rarely have I

met a young man with such power. Not even Voldemort

had that much raw power when he first started Hogwarts."

There were many flinches at the Dark Lords name. Snape

was not one of them. Surprisingly, or perhaps not, Quirrel

wasn't either. Snape frowned as he laid eyes on the man,

and tried not to shift his right leg too much.

"And you believe he is powerful enough that he can kill a

troll with accidental magic?" asked Minerva, her lips

forming a pensive line. "That is almost as outlandish as

him knowing how to cast a spell that most people do not

learn until their fifth year."

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Chapter 116

Albus Dumbledore's eyes began twinkling as he looked at

his deputy headmistress, and Snape got the feeling that

the old man knew more than he was willing to let on.

"Perhaps, but I do not think it is as farfetched as you

believe."

XoX

Albus Dumbledore found himself lost in thought as he

briskly walked down the halls toward the Hospital Wing.

The crises caused by the troll sneaking into the castle had

been averted, but not in the way he had hoped, not at all.

He had just finished a rather long string of conversations

with the first year students (minus one) who had been

directly involved in the incident. Hermione Granger had

been the first he had seen. The poor girl had been the one

who had found a teacher, Severus Snape, surprisingly,

and directed him toward the female bathroom on the

second floor where Harry had first rescued her from the

troll. Of course, the troll and Harry had been gone by then,

and they had left a clear path of destruction in their wake.

Dumbledore had done his best to reassure the girl and let

her know what happened had not been her fault. He had

also spoken with all of Harry's friends to get there side of

the story.

They had all been in a state of shock after their run in with

the troll. Albus could not blame them; troll's were

frightening creatures, their powerful hides, incredible

physical strength, and impressive magical resistance

rendered them immune to all but the most powerful of

spells. Few were the wizards capable of taking down a

fully grown mountain troll on their own. That Harry had

done so, albeit, accidentally, was impressive.

Yet even that posed a problem. Dumbledore had not seen

the site of the battle, but from what he had heard from

Severus painted a grisly picture. Hannah, Lisa, Neville,

Susan and Terry were all so young, only just starting their

first year at Hogwarts, and yet they had already been

subject to a sight that would have not looked out of place

during the war against Voldemort. He could only hope

what they saw during this incident did not scar their minds

and give them horrible nightmares and visions.

He could only imagine how bad it would be for Harry.

While his friends had been there when the troll died, Harry

was the one who killed it. Granted, he'd not had much

choice; the troll would have killed him and his friends had

he not done what he did, but Albus was still worried. The

effects that the act of killing had on the human mind were

horrible, that the one who had done the deed was a child

would only compound the already complicated situation.

Dumbledore's thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt

when he found himself standing in front of the infirmary

doors. Without a moments hesitation, he pushed them

open and walked in.

He found Madam Pomfrey exactly where he expected her

to be, standing over her young charge running medical

scans. Albus' heart fell through his chest when he saw

young Harry lying on the bed, completely inert. The boy he

had first seen at the Sorting Ceremony, so full of life and

brimming with confidence now looked like a small child

who had just gone through hell and been spat back out.

His skin was pale and sweat poured from his body. He

looked nothing at all like the intelligent and powerful young

man reports from his teachers made him to be.

With quick steps, Dumbledore stood before the bed where

the currently comatose boy lay.

"How is he, Poppy?"

Madam Pomfrey didn't answer right away, instead

choosing to continue running what Dumbledore

recognized as a diagnostics scan. This didn't bother him.

The woman was a healer through and through, and cared

more for those under her care than she did for authority

figures. He approved of that attitude. So he simply

remained silent and waited until she finished.

"Surprisingly well," was the answer he got after a few

moments. She turned her head to look back down at Harry

and blew out a shaky breath. "Incredibly well, actually.

He's healing at a phenomenal rate. If it keeps up, I

suspect he will be ready for release by tomorrow

afternoon at the latest."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"Normally, I would say this is a good thing, but you seem

concerned."

"That is because of how injured he was coming in."

Madam Pomfrey looked back up at Dumbledore, her face

pensive. "When Harry was first brought to the infirmary he

was nearly dead. In fact, I almost diagnosed him as dead

and would have were it not for the faint heartbeat he had."

Dumbledore sucked in a breath.

"His wounds were terrible, Albus," Madam Pomfrey

continued softly. "His entire ribcage had been crushed, he

had several dozen bone fragments imbedded in various

organs, including his lungs, spleen, stomach, pancreas,

and large intestines. To top it off, his backbone had three

hairline fractures running along his lower and middle back.

He was just lucky his upper back had not gotten injured or

his neck would have snapped."

Madam Pomfrey shook her head and looked back down at

Harry.

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Chapter 117

"Such extensive wounds would have killed him, should

have killed him, and yet not only is he alive, but his injuries

are healing without my aid at a speed which baffles me.

Already his organs have healed. The bones embedded in

them are gone. His ribcage and spinal cord are currently

on the mend. In short, he is well on the way to recovery,

and all of this was done without my help."

"I... see..."

Dumbledore really didn't see. He simply said that for lack

of having anything else to say.

Albus would freely admit that he knew very little about

healing magic. It was one of those branches he only

studied enough to be decent in, but never excel at,

meaning he knew more than most but less than a

professional. He knew many healing spells and counter

curses and could brew a decent potion to cure most

wounds and poisons, but the intricacies and theoretical

knowledge of that particular branch of magic was lost on

him.

"No Albus, you don't see," Madam Pomfrey told him. She

was probably one of the few who ever spoke to him like

that. "Harry Potter is healing himself on his own without

any aid from an outside source! While it is true that a

wizards magic is capable of dealing with minor wounds

and bruises over time, what is happening here is far

beyond anything that should be possible. It defies the very

laws of magic!"

Dumbledore did not respond to Madam Pomfrey's rant

with words. He merely closed his eyes. When he opened

them again, he looked at Harry with his mage sight.

The boy's magic was greatly diminished from what it had

been before. No longer was it blindingly radiant to the

point where he could not even look at it for fear of going

blind. No longer did his magic saturate his body to the

point where he couldn't even see the child's magical core.

Now it merely looked like an inferno centered around a

gaseous ball of green energy that crackled with power.

Still strong, but not like before.

Yet as he watched, Dumbledore saw tendrils of that

energy emitting outward from the boy's core. It slithered

along his body, latching onto specific areas that he could

only assume were places Harry had been injured. It was

fascinating to watch, unlike anything he had ever seen.

"His core is surprisingly resilient for one so young," the

Headmaster commented. He was musing out loud, both

for himself and for the school nurse. "If I did not know any

better, I would almost say I was looking at the core of an

adult wizard rather than the core of a young eleven-year

old boy."

Madam Pomfrey frowned.

"And what does this mean?"

"It means, Poppy," Albus Dumbledore said with a smile,

"that there is much more to young Harry then first meets

the eye."

XoX

I could feel my magic beginning to leave me as my

consciousness started to slip away. The last thing I saw

before succumbing to oblivion was that of the troll's head

exploding in a spray of blood and brain matter that

splattered along the floor, walls and ceiling.

The first thing Harry Potter did upon returning to full

consciousness was jerk up from where he lay into a sitting

position.

The second thing he did was vomit all over the once

perfectly white bed sheets covering him. He continued to

throw up long after he'd gotten rid of everything and there

was nothing left inside of his stomach to release. Despite

attempts to desist, he found himself incapable of doing

anything other than dry heaving as his stomach continued

to reject something that was not even there.

His mind and body rebelled against him as the last thing

he saw before passing out embedded itself into his mind,

forcing him to watch it over and over and over again in a

constant, never ending sequence, taunting him in ways he

had not experienced since learning the art of meditation.

The sight of the trolls head as it exploded, gore splattering

across his face and body, the troll without its head as it

crumbled to the floor, and the knowledge that he was the

one who killed it.

Harry Potter had seen a number of horrifying events in his

life, things that would have made adults twice his age

cower in fear at or cringe at the sight of. The night

Voldemort attacked his home, his father's yelling to get

him to safety while he held the man off, cruel laughter as

James Potter's life was extinguished by a bright green

flash of light and the killing curse being called out by the

hissing voice of Voldemort. His mother's death, her willing

sacrifice to save him. The look in Voldemort's eyes when

the man had tried to kill him. The first five years of his life

with the Dursleys. He had seen much, and he had dealt

with much. Cruelties that would have broken most

children, that would have turned them into lifeless shells of

their former selves or monsters whose rage had long since

consumed them.

Death. Murder. Violence. Hatred. Isolation. Demeaning

insults meant to cower him. To make him weak. Yes, he

had dealt with much, and he was stronger for it.

But never before had he killed another. He had seen death

when he was but a child of one, but never had he been

the one who raised his hand and dealt the killing blow.

Now he had. Yes, it was a troll. Yes, it was not human, but

that hardly mattered. He had killed. He felt sick, stained,

dirty. Tainted. All he could see was the sight of the troll's

head exploding in front of him. All he could feel was the

blood and pink fleshy bits of brain matter splashing

against his face when he killed the troll who attacking his

friends.

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Chapter 118

His friends. Oh gods. What did his friends think of him now

that he had killed? Would they still want to be his friends

now that he was a killer? Would they still like him? Would

they still want to spend time with him?

As if sensing his increasing anxiety, his body went into

overdrive and his dry heaving turned into hyperventilating.

His body began to shake, his breathing became labored,

his hands clenched at the stained bedsheets, not even

registering the vomit they were getting covered in.

He tried to stop, to calm himself down. He really did. But it

seemed like the harder he tried the worse his condition

became.

"Mr. Potter, quickly, drink this!"

Before Harry knew what was happening, he was forced

back onto the bed, his mouth forcibly opened and one of

the most fowl concoctions he had ever tasted was shoved

down his gullet. His memory immediately cataloged the

taste and told him he was drinking a calming drought, a

powerful potion used to calm people down when their

emotions were running high. This particular one appeared

to be more powerful than the standard potion. Different

ingredients too. Were it not for the fact that he had not

given anyone else any of the potions he had made, he

would dare say this was one of his.

His mind calmed as the potion took effect. Harry looked up

to see Madam Pomfrey running a glowing wand over his

body. The vomit that stained his bedsheets vanished.

"How odd," the woman muttered. Madam Pomfrey was a

stern-looking woman with a no nonsense expression that

would not be out of place on Professor McGonagall. She

had gray hair and several wrinkles around her eyes,

mouth and temples. She wore standard medical garb for

mediwitch: white sleeveless robe with the Hogwarts crest

sown over a long brown-sleeved shirt, and a white wizards

hat that trailed down her head. "You do not seem to be

experiencing any illness and I can detect no fever, but you

are exhibiting some signs of the muggle flu. Pale face,

vomiting..."

"I'm fine, Madam Pomfrey," Harry rasped. Madam Pomfrey

huffed.

"I will be the one to decide whether or not you are fine,

and you, young man, are most definitely not fine."

Harry's mouth turned into a displeased frown. He opened

his mouth to tell this woman off for thinking she knew how

he felt better than him, when the double doors to the

infirmary opened up and in strolled Albus Dumbledore.

"Ah." The Headmaster smiled as his eyes laid sight of

Harry, the twinkle in them going strong. "I see you are

finally awake."

"Headmaster," Harry greeted with a curt nod, masking his

emotions well. The venerated wizard's appearance just a

few minutes after waking up was too coincidental for him

to just be 'happening by.' He must have known the exact

moment Harry had woken up. A charm of some kind,

perhaps?

"How are you feeling, Harry?"

"Fine, Professor," Harry replied politely.

"You are not fine, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey retorted.

"People who are fine do not throw up the moment they

awaken. Nor do they start going into seizures."

Harry's lips became a thin line. He opened his mouth to

make a retort when Dumbledore headed him off.

"I was wondering, if perhaps, I could speak to Harry for a

moment alone, Poppy?" The twinkle was redirected from

Harry to the school mediwtich. "I promise it shan't take

long."

Madam Pomfrey huffed, then sighed.

"As if I could stop you anyways. Oh, very well. You can

speak to him, but make it quick."

As Madam Pomfrey walked off, Dumbledore turned his

attention back to Harry.

"How are you feeling, Harry?"

Harry shifted.

"Fine, professor."

"You gave us quite the scare, you know?" Dumbledore

continued, seemingly not bothered by the lack of

enthusiastic response. "All of the teacher's were quite

worried when Professor Snape found you in such terrible

condition."

The Headmaster looked down at him. Harry shifted again

and he smiled.

"You will be pleased to know that you're friends are safe."

There was a sudden relaxing of his posture as Harry

breathed a sigh of relief. It felt like a weight had been lifted

off his shoulders. Even though he was still worried about

his friends response towards what he had done, he

couldn't deny that he had been worried about them.

Incredibly worried. More than he wanted to be.

It was somewhat bothersome to feel so concerned about

people he had only known for a month, but there was little

he could do about that, so he did his best to put it out of

his mind.

"That's good," he mumbled softly. "Thank you for informing

me, Professor Dumbledore."

"Think nothing of it, my boy." Dumbledore's grandfatherly

eyes twinkled merrily. "And now that we have that out of

the way, perhaps you can inform me of the events that led

to your encounter with the troll, as well as the encounter

itself."

Harry frowned as he thought of the best way to explain

what happened. He needed to be honest, but he didn't

want to reveal anything too personal.

"I was practicing some magic in one of the unused

classrooms on the second floor," Harry began carefully,

calculatingly. He was interrupted by Dumbledore.

"And why did you decide to not come to the feast?"

Harry closed his eyes.

"I have no desire to celebrate Halloween."

"I see." Dumbledore seemed to age a bit. The twinkle in

his eyes dimmed and it looked as if a great weight had

settled on his shoulders. "I suppose I can understand why

you would not wish to celebrate that particular day. Nor

can I blame you. I would probably be of like mind were our

positions reversed."

Harry gave the man a nod of acknowledgment, but didn't

speak. After a moment, Dumbledore seemed to brighten

again. Strength returned to his body and he was once

more the Headmaster of Hogwarts and one of the most

powerful wizards in the world.

"Please continue, Harry."

"Right," Harry sighed, "after a while I had gotten hungry

and decided to go down to the kitchens to grab a bite to

eat before heading off to my dormitory when I heard a

scream. I recognized it and realized Hermione was in

danger when her scream was followed by a roar and the

sound of something being smashed to pieces."

Harry paused, then took a breath.

"I ran over to where I heard the scream and found

Hermione huddled against a corner in the women's

restroom. The room was destroyed, and the troll was

standing over her readying a killing blow. I did the only

thing I could think of. Distract it and grab the girl. I was

hoping we could get away from it, but it chased us down

the hall and managed to catch up. I decided to send her

away while I acted as a distraction. It wasn't my best

decision, but I couldn't think of anything else to do at the

time. I thought I could distract the troll long enough for her

to get a teacher, or for a teacher to find me. Then my

friends came."

Harry felt a mixed reaction about that moment, the

moment his friends found him and decided to stick around

despite him telling them to run. On the one hand, he felt...

happy, that they would risk their lives for him. It truly was

nice to know they were willing to risk life and limb for him.

On the other, it was an incredibly foolish thing to do and

they could have easily gotten themselves killed.

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Chapter 119

Normally, this would have angered him. Of course, he was

currently on the effects of a very potent calming drought,

so all he could dredge up at the moment was irritation for

them not listening to him.

Harry shook his head, willing his thoughts away.

"Suffice it to say things went from bad to worse, and I

ended up jumping on its back and getting my ribcage

crushed." Harry shrugged as Dumbledore winced. "It was

mere luck that I'm still alive."

Luck. How he disliked relying on something as

inconsistent as luck. He would not deny that throughout

the entire battle, it had been luck that kept him alive. Luck

that the troll had been so incredibly stupid. Luck that it had

no experience in combat or the ability to think tactically.

Luck that it telegraphed its moves so blatantly he could

dodge the incredibly fast swings of its club. And luck that

he had been magically reinforcing his body when the troll

tried to crush him between itself and the wall. Yes, Harry

would admit he was extremely lucky to have survived the

encounter.

That didn't mean he had to like it.

"Sometimes you will find that a little luck can go a long

way," Dumbledore told Harry cheerfully. Harry just stared

at the man with a blank look, wondering if perhaps

people's belief that the venerated Headmaster being a tad

barmy held more truth to them than anyone realized.

Maybe the old man truly was as touched in the head as

people claimed.

"Harry." The tone of voice Dumbledore used changed.

Gone was the cheery voice, and in its place was one filled

with regret. The twinkle had also gone out of his eye. "I am

terribly sorry that you were forced to confront the toll

yesterday."

"It's not your fault headmaster," Harry replied a little

dumbly. He wasn't sure what was more surprising;

Dumbledore apologizing to him, or the entire situation that

constituted the man apologizing in the first place.

"Sometimes these things happen, and there really isn't

much we can do about them."

"That is true, but this incident nearly got you killed,"

Dumbledore said quietly. He seemed disquieted by this

fact. Granted, he was the headmaster of Hogwarts, so of

course he would be worried about one of his charges

dying. That the person almost killed was the Boy-WhoLived just made the situation that much worse. Harry could

only imagine the scandal his death would cause. But it

seemed more personal than that. Harry couldn't explain it,

but he had the feeling Dumbledore was taking this incident

more personally than he normally would have. "And worse

still was that you were forced to kill, something I hoped no

one would be forced to do again since the war with

Voldemort ended, especially one so young."

Harry grimaced. He really didn't want to think of how he

had killed something. Even under the effects of the

calming drought his mind was constantly showing him that

last image of the troll's head exploding before he black

out.

"I want you to know, Harry," Dumbledore began, looking at

him behind those half-moon spectacles. "That while killing

is something I do not condone, it is something that,

unfortunately, is sometimes unavoidable." The

Headmaster grimaced, as if just admitting this truth was

painful. "There are times when a situation may require you

to choose between the lives of the innocent and those

trying to take those lives. It is a very unfortunate

circumstance, and one I had hoped you would never be

forced into."

He paused, then gave Harry a smile and a pat on the

shoulder.

"What you did last night, you did because you didn't have

any choice. Trolls are notoriously difficult to incapacitate,

much less kill. Only the most experienced full grown

wizards can take on a mountain troll and live. That you did

so is remarkable, that you did so while protecting your

friends is admirable. Had the teachers found you in time

things may have been different. Alas, things do not always

happen the way we wish them to. I want you to know,

Harry, that you did the right thing."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, and he meant it. Much as he

may hate to admit it, his mind still reeled from what he had

done, potion or no potion. Dumbledore's words went a

long way toward easing his mind.

"You are most welcome." Dumbledore's congenial smile

was back in place. The twinkle in his eyes returned, and

he stood back up. "Now then, I think I will take my leave

before Poppy decides to kick me out." Harry offered the

ancient looking man a small smile. "have a pleasant day,

Mr. Potter."

As soon as Dumbledore made to leave, Madam Pomfrey

came back in and began fussing over him. Harry sighed

as he leaned back against his pillow and let the woman do

her job. Hopefully, cooperating with the mediwitch would

get him out of the hospital wing that much faster.

As the school mediwitch ran several diagnostic spells, he

found himself regretting only one thing: that he did not

have a good book to help quell his boredom.

XoX

It was nearly an hour later that Harry was finally allowed to

leave the hospital wing. A quick casting of the tempus

spell showed him that it was currently lunch time, and so

the raven-haired young boy made his way toward the

Great Hall, his shoes thudding along the stone floor,

bouncing off the walls.

The halls were empty. Everyone was probably already in

the Great Hall. That left Harry plenty of time to think about

the reaction he would be receiving from the other students

when he arrived.

He was under no illusion that everyone had heard about

what happened by now. The Hogwarts rumor mill worked

fast, especially when it came to anything concerning him.

The fact that this particular incident involved him killing a

troll would only exacerbate things. No doubt there would

be hundreds of different rumors involving what he had

done and how he had done it.

He wasn't too worried about rumors. In the grand scheme

of things, rumors would only boost his reputation right

now, though he did imagine some people would be afraid

of him. No, what he was worried about was the reaction of

his friends. Would they fear him like some of the other

students surely would? Would they be disgusted by what

he had done? Would they want to even continue being his

friend? So many questions, all of which could only be

answered by confronting them.

A part of him was bothered by how worried he was about

their opinions of him. While he did indeed care about what

others thought of him, perhaps even more than he should,

he had never worried to this extent. He had cared, but

only insomuch as how the beliefs and opinions of others

would affect his reputation. This was different. In this

instance, he was actually afraid they would think he was a

monster and not want to spend anymore time with him.

And that bothered him far more than he wanted to admit.

Before long Harry found himself standing just outside of

the Great Hall. He closed his eyes, centering himself by

taking several deep breaths and emptying his mind of his

worries and concerns. Properly centered, he entered the

Great Hall, prepared to face whatever came his way.

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Chapter 120

As expected, the moment he entered the entire hall

became silent. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop,

and Harry instantly likened the disquieting silence to the

term 'silent as the grave,' a rather morbid phrase if there

ever was one.

Just like he had theorized Harry received many varied

looks. Everything from awe to fear to jealousy was

displayed by the many faces around him. Harry's mind

quickly went to work cataloging the reactions of everyone

there and taking careful note of who had which

expression. It would be invaluable to know who was afraid

of him and who was simply in awe of him.

Slowly, Harry walked down the Great Hall, the heads of

many students turning to keep him in sight. His eyes

managed to find his friends quickly enough. They were

seated at the Ravenclaw. Terry, Lisa and Neville were on

one side, while Susan and Hannah were on the other.

Their expressions all ran along the lines of being stunned,

as if they didn't know what to make of him appearing

before them.

Over at the Slytherin table he also saw Blaise giving him

an expressionless look. When Harry caught the darkskinned Italian boy's eyes, the Slytherin nodded in silent

acknowledgment. He returned the nod with one of his

own. Tracey, on the other hand, was biting her lower lip

and looked like she was barely managing to restrain

herself from leaping out of her seat and rushing over to

him. Knowing her, he would be giving a full recounting of

the event that led to him being admitted into the hospital

wing.

He did get a bit of a surprise when he looked to Tracey's

right and saw Daphne staring at him with a furrowed brow.

He was surprise because she wasn't looking at him with

cold disdain. Her lips were turned downwards into a small

frown, and her eyes only contained a hint of the ice they

normally had. Instead they looked pensive. He wondered

what she was thinking about.

"Harry!"

All thoughts on Daphne and everything else were

completely derailed when a redheaded missile launched

herself at him. Surprised would not be the appropriate

word to describe what Harry felt when he found his arms

full of a crying Susan Bones. He had never expected any

of his friends to react like this after the incident with the

troll, least of all shy, demure and often times incredibly

quiet Susan. Hannah maybe, if she didn't think he was a

monster and fear him for what he had done. That girl was

very excitable. Susan though, definitely not.

"Thank Merlin you're alright! I was so worried about you!

You were in such terrible shape that I was afraid you had

been killed! You're not hurt are you? Oh, I'm so sorry I

couldn't be of any help!"

The girl was babbling. Her worry spilling out of her mouth

at such speeds that Harry's mind had to work over time to

decipher them. He had no idea the girl could talk this fast.

She would give Lisa a run for her money!

"I'm sorry for worrying you." Harry was unsure of what to

say so he said that. At the very least it halted the girl's

frantic babbling. He also decided to reciprocate her hug as

it would probably hurt her if he didn't. This was the first

time he had hugged someone whose name was not Lisa

Crawft. It felt very different than the hugs he shared with

his best friend. Different, but not unpleasant.

Yet, while Harry hugged Susan, he felt his mixed emotions

come back. Anger and joy warred with each other for his

attention. A part of Harry felt tempted to begin berating

Susan and the others for their foolish decision to stay and

try to fight that troll with him while another part simply

wanted to bask in the fact that they didn't hate him and still

cared for him despite what he had done.

This strange combination of emotions confused him. Harry

had always thought himself to be above most emotional

responses. Sure, Lisa could evoke a lot of emotions in

him, but she had been his friend for years and he'd never

felt such a complicated array of opposing emotions when

dealing with her. That his new friends could bring out two

feelings that stood in direct opposition of each other was

shocking, and he wasn't entirely sure how to handle it.

A deep breath was taken as Harry tried his best to calm

the thoughts and feelings raging inside of him. He would

deal with his friends later, he decided. It would not due to

berate them now when they were in front of their peers.

He was angry, but not that angry, and he didn't want to

alienate his friends from him. For now, he would just

pretend nothing was wrong and enjoy his lunch with them.

While Harry worked through his emotional confusion,

Susan's face took on the shade of a small red sun, as she

realized that she had just run up to Harry and hugged him

in front of the entirety of Hogwarts. It didn't help that he

hugged her back. With impressive speed, the girl jerked

herself away from Harry like she'd just been burned. At the

same time, the shock of seeing Harry walking into the

Great Hall and Susan of all people practically jumping

their friend wore off, and the others who had been sitting

at the Ravenclaw table got up and ran over to Harry.

"Harry, mate, are you alright?" asked Neville. Harry bade

to answer, but before he could Hannah interrupted him.

"Merlin's beard, Harry! You scared us half to death with

that stunt you pulled!"

Harry's nostril's flared for a moment as the urge to tell her

that the stunt she and the others had pulled was just as

stupid, but held back. Now was not the time, he reminded

himself.

Calming down before anyone could notice his growing

anger, Harry sat down with his friends at the Ravenclaw

table. By now, the other students had gotten back to their

food and conversation, though Harry could hear from the

closest cluster of students that whatever they had been

talking about was no longer their topic of conversation.

Unless, of course, they had been talking about his fight

with the troll before he came in.

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