When Harry and Ron walked into the Great Hall later that morning, Malfoy looked as though someone had decided to cancel Christmas: Ron and Harry were both in one piece and it was clear that neither of them was going to be expelled. At worst, they had lost a few hours of sleep and by the time the morning had moved on, both felt that meeting the three-headed dog had been the most excellent adventure and they were looking forward to the next one. In the meantime, Harry was filling the time by telling Ron precisely what he thought was under the trapdoor.
On the day that Hagrid had taken Harry to Diagon Alley for his school things, Hagrid had withdrawn a small grubby package from Gringotts. And, Harry went on to explain, Hagrid had said that Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to guardâ“with the exception of Hogwarts. Harry was now firmly convinced that the package had now made its way to the castle...and was being guarded by the three-headed dog.
âSo you really think itâs here?â Ron asked Harry.
âYeah, which meansâ“â
âItâs either really valuable or really dangerous.â
âOr both,â Harry said.
But, sine all they knew about the mysterious package was that it was about two inches big, they had no way of figuring out exactly what the dog was guarding. And, since Hermione and Neville didnât seem to have any interest in repeating the adventure, they had no one to help them look for more clues.
Neville seemed only to care about never going near the corridor again, and had taken to avoiding the third floor completely whenever he could, becoming even more withdrawn. Hermione, for her part, was completely refusing to speak to either of them at all. As both saw this an improvement, neither complained.
Now, all they needed and wanted, was a way to get back at Malfoy for tricking them. And they didnât have long to wait: their revenge arrived at breakfast that very morning.
The owls flooded the Hall as usual, but everyoneâs attention was caught by a long, thin package being carried by six screech owls. Ron and Harry watched as they swooped lower...and dropped the package in Harryâs plate. They hardly had enough time to be shocked before another owl followed and dropped a note right on top of the parcel.
Harry tore it open, his eyes flying over the note, his face flushing with excitement before he passed it on to Ron without a word.
It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I donâtâ want everyone knowing youâve got a broomstick or theyâll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven oâclock for your first training session.
Professor McGonagall
âA Nimbus Two Thousand â Ron moaned, his eyes nearly crossing with envy. âIâve never even touched one.â
They left the Great Hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broom before they had to be at their first class, but before they were halfway across the entrance hall, they found their way up the staircase blocked by Malfoy and his two shadows. Malfoy grabbed the package rudely from Harry, feeling it up.
âThatâs a broomstick,â he informed them as if they didnât know, tossing it back to Harry, the look on his face a mixture of both jealousy and spite. âYouâll be in for it this time, Potter, first years arenât allowed to have brooms.â
Ron couldnât resist. The git was just asking for it.
âItâs not any old broomstick,â he told Malfoy. âItâs a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say youâve got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?â Ron turned to grin at Harry before continuing. âComets look flashy, but theyâre not in the same league as a Nimbus.â
âWhat would you know about it, Weasley, you couldnât afford half the handle,â Malfoy snapped back. âI suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig.â
Ron opened his mouth, but before he could get a word out to defend himself, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoyâs elbow.
âNot arguing, I hope, boys?â he squeaked.
âPotterâs been sent a broomstick,â Malfoy said quickly.
âYes, yes, thatâs right,â Professor Flitwick said, beaming up at Harry. âProfessor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?â
âA Nimbus Two Thousand, sir,â Harry answered, who, like Ron, was fighting a losing battle not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoyâs face. âAnd itâs really thanks to Malfoy here that I got it,â he added, grinning.
Professor Flitwick nodded in acknowledgment and waved them on. They ran upstairs, struggling to contain their laughs.
âWell itâs true,â Harry said when they had reached their floor. âIf he hadnât stolen Nevilleâs Remembrall, I wouldnât be on the team....â
âSo I suppose you think thatâs the reward for breaking the rules?â an angry voice said behind them. They turned to see Hermione, a disapproving look on her face as she stared pointedly at the package in Harryâs hands.
âI thought you werenât speaking to us?â Harry asked.
âYes, donât stop now,â Ron added, âitâs doing us so much good.â
Hermione marched away to class, her nose stuck up in the air.
The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind as Ron tried not to think jealously of the broom lying beneath Harryâs bad. But it could not be helped. A Nimbus Two Thousand was the broom to have and Harry, who hadnât even heard of Quidditch before Ron explained it to him, had one. And, to top it all off, was going to be on the House team. It just wasnât fair. When supper finally came, he bolted his down as quickly as Harry did, barely paying attention to his food and then ran all the way back up to Gryffindor Tower to look at it again. It was likely that looking at it was as close as he was ever going to get touching it.
Ron sighed in envious appreciation when Harry finally rolled the broomstick onto his bed. It was the most amazing evidence of Wizarding magic heâd ever seen in his life. Sleek and shiny, it had a slender mahogany handle and a neat, long tail. The crowning finish was at the top of the stick, where the words Nimbus Two Thousand were written in gold leaf.
They admired it together until seven oâclock, Ron trying to make himself better by attempting to impress Harry with his knowledge of Quidditch history and flying broomsticks. When Harry finally did leave to the Quidditch pitch though, Ron lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling.
It took a good twenty minutes of a serious talking-to-himself before heâd beaten down the jealousy enough to start on his homework.
Perhaps it was because they were so busy, what with the dozens of classes, piles of homework, and passageways to learn, but Ron was more than surprised when he woke up one morning to discover that theyâd been at school for two months. Lessons had become more interesting, now that theyâd moved on from the basics and had, for the most part, stopped blowing things up and sending Professor Flitwick out the window.
On Halloween morning, the smell of pumpkin pie woke up the entire castle, wafting through the corridors and distracting them all through their classes. Even better, Professor Flitwick informed them that they were ready to start learning how to levitate objects, something Ron knew Harry had been looking forward to doing ever since Flitwick had sent Nevilleâs toad flying around the room. Ron, on his part, had seen his mother do it often enough and was not anticipating any difficulties.
Everything was going well until Flitwick divided the class into pairs and, to Ronâs horror, paired him together with Hermione.
âNow donât forget that nice wrist movement weâve been practicing!â Flitwick squeaked. âSwish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is also very importantâ“never forget Wizard Baruffio who said âsâ instead of âfâ and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest.â
Ron tried to ignore Hermioneâs presence, but after a few minutes into practical wand-waving, when he still hadnât gotten his feather anywhere off the table, he lost patience and, waving his arms wildly, yelled, âWingardium Leviosa!
âYouâre saying it wrong,â Hermione snapped, who did not seem to be any happier about being put together with him. âItâs Win-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the âgarâ sound nice and long.â
âYou do it then, if youâre so clever,â Ron snarled.
Hermione rolled her eyes at him, pushed up her sleeves and, raising her wand, flicked it. âWingardium Leviosa!â she said clearly and the feather flew off the table, hovering four feet above their heads.
âOh, well done!â Flitwick cried, clapping his hands together. âEveryone, see here, Miss Grangerâs done it!â
Hermione gave Ron a smug look as she flicked her wand again, slowly bringing the feather back down to the table.
Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of class. âItâs no
wonder no one can stand here,â he said to Harry as they pushed their way through the crowded corridors. âSheâs a nightmare, honestly.â
Suddenly, someone knocked rudely into them as they passed. Ron got one glance at Hermioneâs face, streaked with tears, and got an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach.
âI think she heard you,â Harry murmured.
âSo?â Ron asked off handedly. âShe mustâve realized sheâs got no friends.â
But Hermione didnât seem to be taking the same carefree attitude about the comment as Ron was. She didnât come to their next class, or the one after that. In fact, no one saw her the entire afternoon. On their way down to the Great Hall for dinner, they heard Parvati telling Lavender that Hermione was in the bathroom and wanted to be left alone. Ronâs guilty feelings started to surface then, but were smothered the instant they stepped through the doors into the Great Hall.
A thousand bats were flying through the Hall, swooping low over the tables, making the candles in the pumpkins sputter and more than a few girls screech. One bat got stuck in a Hufflepuff girlâs hair and she ran from the Hall screaming, followed quickly by Professor Sprout who was urging her to calm down. Ron and Harry headed straight to Gryffindor table and the feast appeared before them just as it had for the start-of-term banquet.
Ron had started to cut himself a slice of pumpkin pie when Professor Quirrel came running into the Hall, his turban unraveling and streaming behind him, a look of utmost terror on his face. The Hall fell into immediate silence as they watched him race his way up the aisle between the house tables and to the Head table, stopping by Dumbledoreâs chair, half-hanging off the table.
âTroll-in the dungeons,â he gasped into the silence. âThought you ought to know.â
And then he slid to the floor in a dead faint.
The room erupted into an instant uproar. Anyone who wasnât Muggle born jumped to their feet and started running for the doorâs of the Great Hall. The others caught onto the fear quickly though and were quick to follow, throwing benches over in the madness as more than a few students burst into hysterical tears. Ron and Harry had nearly made it to the door when Dumbledore shot several firecrackers out of his wand and up to the ceiling, silencing everyone.
âPrefects,â he thundered, âlead your Houses back to their dormitories immediately.â
Percy was in his element.
âFollow me! Stick together, first years. No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, Iâm a prefect!â
âHow could a troll get in?â Harry asked Ron as they made their way up the stairs.
âDonât ask me,â Ron answered with a shrug. âTheyâre supposed to be really stupid. Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke.â
âIâve just had a thought,â Harry said, moments later, grabbing Ronâs arm as they passed a group of Hufflepuffs. âHermione.â
âWhat about her?â Ron asked, shaking Harryâs hand off.
âShe doesnât know about the troll,â Harry said urgently.
Ron bit his lip in annoyance. There was nothing he wanted to do less now than go find Hermione. What if a teacher saw them? What if the troll saw them? But it was his fault in the first place that she hadnât been in the Great Hall....âOh, all right,â he snapped. âBut Percyâd better not see us.â
They joined the line of Hufflepuffs moving in the opposite direction, slipping into an empty corridor and making their way towards the girlsâ bathroom. They had just turned the corner when the sound of hurried footsteps followed them.
âPercy!â Ron hissed, yanking Harry after him and behind a huge stone griffin. Peering around it, they both saw that it was not, in fact, Percy, but Professor Snape.
âWhatâs he doing here?â Harry whispered. âWhy isnât he in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?â
âSearch me,â Ron said before motioning him to follow; the hallway was now clear and they snuck down the corridor, after Snapeâs receding footsteps.
âHeâs heading for the third floor,â Harry said, taking a step to follow him, but Ron held his hand up to stop him.
âCan you smell something?â
Ron sniffed experimentally and instantly regretted it. The smell entering his nose was enough to make a person retch and he nearly did. He was about to suggest to Harry that they turn around and head back when he heard it: a low grunting accompanied by the shuffling footsteps of gigantic feet. Ron pointed silently at the huge shadow starting to turn the left corner. They shrank back into the shadows, watching in mutual horror as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.
Twelve feet tall, the trollâs skin was colored grey and its great lumpy back made it look like a moving boulder with a small head stuck on top like a Quaffle. It had short, stocky legs that looked thick as tree trunks with flat, heavy feet. It was both the ugliest and smelliest thing Ron had ever seen in his life. It was also holding a giant wooden club, which was dragging on the floor because its arms were so long. They watched as the troll stopped next to a door and peered inside. It shook its head, making its ears wobble as it made up its tiny mind and galumphed through the doorway.
âThe keyâs in the lock,â Harry muttered. âWe could lock it in.â
âGood idea,â Ron agreed nervously.
They crept towards the open door, mouths dry, hoping that the troll wasnât going to turn around and find them. With one great leap, Harry slammed the door, grabbed the key and locked it.
âYes!â
Flushed with victory, they raced up the corridor. But, as they turned the corner, they heard a high, shrill, petrified scream coming from the room they had just locked.
âOh no,â Ron gasped as they came to a screeching halt, his face pale as any of the ghosts.
âItâs the girlâs bathroom!â Harry gulped, eyes wide.
âHermione!â
It was their fault that she was locked in there, and his fault she was in there in the first place. And even though it was the last thing he wanted to do, even though he wanted to run away as fast as his legs could carry him, Ron wheeled around and back to the bathroom, Harry quick on his heels. They tried to unlock the door, fumbling with the key in their haste and panic. Harry finally got it open, dropping the key to the floor as they ran in.
Hermione was shrinking against the far wall, curling into herself and looking like she was about to faint. The troll was moving towards her steadily, knocking sinks off the wall with his club as he moved further from Ron and Harry and closer to Hermione.
âConfuse it!â Harry yelled desperately, grabbing a tap and throwing it at the trollâs head as Ron moved to yank a pipe off the wall. He turned to face the center of the room to see the troll lumbering around to face Harry.
âOy, pea brain!â Ron yelled, throwing the pipe at the troll. The monster didnât seem to feel the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it did hear Ronâs yell. It rotated its ugly head to Ron, giving Harry the time to run past it and to Hermione.
âCome on, run, run,â Ron heard Harry yell at Hermione as he tried to pull her away from the wall. But the stupid girl wasnât moving, only staring at the troll in utter horror. Harry was still yelling for her to get up, and the shouting and echoes seemed to be driving the troll mad. It roared and advanced on Ron, who had no way to escape.
Oh hell Ron thought, looking around frantically. There was no way out of the trollâs path. Ron closed his eyes. Help me he begged. Help me now and Iâll never back-talk to Mum again.
A moment passed and Ron opened his eyes to stare as Harry did something very stupid: he took a flying leap, managing to get his arms wrapped around the trollâs neck. The troll didnât seem to notice Harry hanging there, but it did seem to realize it had a piece of wood stuck up its nose; Harryâs wand had still been in his hand when heâd jumped and it was now up one of the trollâs nostrils. It howled in pain, twisting as it tried to get to Harry, waving its club madly as Harry tried to hang on. It looked as though the troll was going to rip him off or bash him with its club at any second.
Hermione sank to the ground with a whimper and Ron, scared as well as angry that this witch, this witch who was supposed to be the smartest of their year was doing nothing, pulled out his wand and yelled, âWingardium Leviosa!â
The trollâs club rose suddenly from its hand, went all the way up to the ceiling, hovered there for a moment, and then crashed onto the trollâs head with a satisfying crack. The monster swayed on its feet for a few seconds and nearly crushed Harry as it thudded heavily to the floor, making the entire room shake. Harry got to his feet slowly, trembling and out of breath, his entire face white. Ron stared uncomprehending at the troll, wand still high in the air as he considered what heâd just done.
Moments passed.
Hermione was the first to speak. âIs itâ“dead?â she asked, still pressed firmly against the wall.
âI donât think so,â Harry answered, his voice shaking a bit. âI think itâs just been knocked out,â he added as he bent to pull his wand out. âUrghâ“troll boogers,â he said, making a face as he wiped what looked blue-grey glue off his wand and onto the trollâs trousers.
A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made them all look towards the door. None of them had thought of the amount of noise theyâd been making, but now that he realized, Ron knew that someone must have heard the crashes and screams.
Professor McGonagall came bursting into the bathroom a moment later, followed immediately by Professors Snape and Quirrel, who took one look at the troll, whimpered, and sank down onto the last remaining toilet, a hand on his chest, breathing heavily as Professor Snape bent to examine the troll.
McGonagall was looking at Harry and Ron as though they had both insulted her mother, a look of fury on her face the likes of which Ron had never seen before. Heâd never made even his mother this angry before, not even when Fred and George had tried to teach him how to fly a broomstick when heâd been four. Or when Charlie had brought home a den of pixies. Or the time that Bill had tried to write a curse of his own and actually used it.
âWhat on earth were you thinking?â McGonagall asked, her quiet voice filled with cold fury. âYouâre lucky you werenât killed. Why arenât you in your dormitories?â
Harry gave Ron a look before hanging his head. Ron couldnât move, couldnât even lower his wand. He was yelling at himself to do so when a meek voice spoke from the shadows.
âPlease, Professor McGonagallâ“they were looking for me.â
âMiss Granger!â
Hermione seemed to have gathered her wits at last, and had gotten to her feet. âI went looking for the troll because Iâ“I thought that I could deal with it on my ownâ“you know, because Iâve read so much about them.â
Ron finally dropped his arm in an entirely different kind of shock. Hermione Granger had told an outright lie to a teacher. If the bathroom would have had windows, he would have looked for the flying pigs.
âIf they hadnât found me, Iâd be dead now,â Hermione continued. âHarry stuck his wand up its nose and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didnât have time to fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off,â she finished as Harry raised his head, matching the feigned casual look on Ronâs own face, trying for all they were worth as though this wasnât a new story for them.
âWellâ“in that case...â Professor McGonagall said, staring at the three of them. âMiss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?â
Hermione hung her head, looking at the floor as Ron fought to keep his mouth from falling open. Telling a lie and refusing to answer a question? And helping him and Harry out in the process? This was not the Hermione Granger he thought he knew.
âMiss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this. Iâm very disappointed in you. If youâre not hurt at all, you better go back up to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their dormitories.â
Ron and Harry both looked around the bathroom nervously as Hermione shuffled out, trying to avoid direct eye contact.
âWell,â McGonagall said, turning to them. âI still say that you were very lucky, but not many first years couldâve taken on a fully grown mountain troll on their own. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go.â
They ran out of the bathroom and for freedom as fast as they could and didnât speak until they were nearly two floors up and away from the smell of the troll, a great relief.
âWe should have gotten more than ten points,â Ron grumbled.
âFive, you mean, once sheâs taken off Hermioneâs,â Harry reminded him.
âGood of her to get us out of trouble like that,â Ron admitted grudgingly. âMind you, we did save her.â
âShe might not have needed saving if we hadnât locked that thing in with her.â
Ron didnât push it. He knew what Harry would say if he said she shouldnât have been in the bathroom in the first place-that it was his own fault she was there to begin with. And theyâd already reached the portrait of the Fat Lady
âPig snout,â they said together, and she swung open to reveal a party. The Common Room was packed and noisy; everyone was eating and drinking what had been sent up. Hermione, however, was waiting just by the portrait hole, obviously waiting for them.
Ron braced himself as they walked over to her. There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence before they all muttered âThanks,â together before hurrying off to get plates.
But from that moment on, Hermione Granger was their friend. There are a few things in the world that people can share without becoming friends, as as Harry told him later, knocking out a mountain troll had to be one of them.
A/N: The rest of the chapter is here and posted, as promised. But explain to me why, really, if there over a hundred of you who are faithfully reading this, that I only have about twelve faithful reviewers? Where is the motivation?