Perhaps it was the whirlwind of activity that engulfed him, with Quidditch practice consuming three evenings each week in addition to the relentless demands of homework, but Harry could scarcely fathom that two months had already slipped by since his arrival at Hogwarts. Even his lessons, once daunting in their novelty, were gradually evolving into captivating pursuits as he and his peers delved deeper into the intricacies of magic.

  Ron had shared in Harry’s excitement over his Quidditch placement with an infectious enthusiasm that lit up his freckled face. Grinning from ear to ear, he eagerly divulged to Harry that his allegiance lay firmly with the Chudley Cannons, his favorite professional Quidditch team. With a twinkle in his blue eyes, Ron recounted legendary matches, heart-stopping maneuvers, and the awe-inspiring prowess of the Cannons' players, painting a vivid picture of his admiration for the team.

  “Oh, I’ve got all their posters back home,” said Ron. “If they had roots here I’d be rooting for them in a heartbeat, but Derrick Watterson joined up from the Hufflepuff team…” Ron looked into the distance in awe.

  Class-wise, Harry had already started to learn a variety of magical spells. Among his repertoire were incantations like the fire-making charm, a practical skill for any aspiring wizard to possess, particularly for lighting a cozy fire in the chill of the Hogwarts castle. The softening charm, with its potential to mitigate the impact of great falls, which most stood out to him as protection if he were to ever fall from his broom mid-flight.

  Equipped with the mending charm, Harry had discovered the satisfaction of restoring broken objects to their former glory, albeit limited to those of common value. The box-blasting charm added a touch of excitement as it offered the ability to open sealed containers with a burst of controlled explosive force. And then there was the dancing feet spell, a whimsical incantation that never failed to elicit laughter and mischief.

  The last was an interestingly funny charm—Harry and Ron had practiced this spell on each other to cause their legs to flail wildly out of their control. Hermione seemed agitated at the very act of them showing no regard for the apparent danger that practicing the spell out of class could pose, but to them the humor was well worth it.

  As the morning of Halloween dawned, the air in Hogwarts hummed with an anticipatory energy, infused with the tantalizing aroma of pumpkin treats wafting through the corridors. Professor Flitwick's announcement in Charms class only heightened the students' excitement, promising the spell. that could make objects take flight—a feat they had all eagerly awaited since witnessing the professor's enchanting display with Neville's toad a week earlier.

  Harry observed the pairs forming across the classroom. He found himself paired with Seamus Finnegan. Meanwhile, Asher was partnered with Wayne Hopkins, a Hufflepuff student who seemed more nervous than any at any kind of magic. Ron's scowl deepened as he realized he was paired with Hermione, a match-up that promised nothing but tension. On Hermione's other side sat Kevin Entwhistle, paired with Amanda Brockhurst, both Ravenclaws who often found themselves drawn into Hermione's orbit.

  "Correct movements and proper incantations are crucial. Imagine the misfortune of Wizard Baruffio, whose speech impediment led a coat-cleaning charm astray, resulting in a disastrous buffalo summoning charm instead. It was particularly unfortunate that he was wearing the coat he intended to clean at the time."

  "Ah, blast it!" Seamus exclaimed in frustration, attempting the wand movement without mastering the incantation. To Harry's surprise, Seamus managed to freeze his feather solid—a feat that seemed improbable without a proper understanding of the spell. Reacting quickly, Harry searched his mind for a solution, calling out, "Incendio!" With a swift flick of his wand, a burst of red light engulfed the feather, thawing it out instantly.

  Meanwhile, Ron's attempts at spellcasting across the room fared no better. His fervent shouts of "Wingardium Leviosa!" were met with Hermione's sharp correction. “No, no. You’re doing it wrong! It’s not Wingardium Leviosuh,” she sped through it as if to skip through the end of the word, “It’s lev-ee-oh-sah. If you don’t get the ending right then it won’t work, watch.”

  As she chanted the incantation, her wand cutting through the air with fluid grace, the feather responded to her command, rising gently into the air and hovering for a few tantalizing seconds before descending back to the desktop.

  Ron's demeanor shifted noticeably, his mood souring. With a scowl etched upon his features, he voiced his discontent to Harry amidst the bustling throng of students in the crowded corridor as class ended.

  "It's beyond me how the Ravenclaws put up with her," he grumbled, his words dripping with bitterness as they navigated the sea of bodies. "She's a nightmare, honestly. I don't understand why she feels the need to stick her nose into everything."

  Harry halted abruptly as a figure rushed past them, and upon closer inspection, he recognized Hermione, her demeanor downtrodden and her cheeks stained with tears. "Oh... I think she heard you," Harry murmured, his voice tinged with concern.

  "I don't believe that was very kind," Asher remarked, joining them from behind. "I caught her reaction to your words, and... well," they gestured towards Hermione.

  Despite the lingering worry gnawing at Ron's conscience over Hermione's conspicuous absence from subsequent classes and overheard murmurs from Lavender Brown mentioning she was spending the period in the girl’s bathroom on the third floor, he was able to pack away the feeling by the irresistible allure of the Halloween feast.

  The Great Hall underwent a breathtaking transformation into a realm of enchantment and mystery. As Harry and Ron navigated through the hall, they were entranced by the array of delights awaiting them. Golden plates overflowed with seasonal treats, emitting tantalizing aromas of roasted chestnuts, spiced pumpkin pies, and hearty stews. The air was alive with the anticipation of the feast that awaited, promising a culinary adventure like no other. As Harry reached for a steaming baked potato, the Great Hall buzzed with the jovial chatter of students relishing in the Halloween feast.

  Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted as Professor Quirrell burst through the doors, his usually timid demeanor replaced by sheer panic. His eyes were wide and his composure wicked. His turban was askew. All conversation ceased as every head turned to watch him stumble toward Professor Dumbledore's chair, his labored breaths echoing in the tense silence.

  "Trolls! In the dungeon!" he gasped, his voice quivering with fear. Then, with a pleading look at Dumbledore, he collapsed in a dead faint, leaving the students stunned and bewildered.

  The sudden eruption of purple firecrackers from the tip of Professor Dumbledore's wand shattered the chaos, their explosive bursts echoing off the stone walls of the Great Hall until a hushed silence settled over the room. In the wake of the deafening noise, Professor Dumbledore's voice cut through the tension.

  "Professors McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick," he began. "Please have your prefects assist you in guiding your respective houses back to the safety of their dormitories. Professor Snape," he continued, his gaze steady as he addressed the Potions Master, "kindly escort the Slytherin students to my office until further instruction is given."

  Percy, his prefect badge glinting in the flickering candlelight, stepped forward. "Follow me! Stick together, first years!" he declared, his tone carrying a reassuring confidence amidst the rising panic. "No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders!"

  As they began to file out of the Great Hall Harry's thoughts raced, his concern for Hermione weighing heavily on his mind. With a sudden jolt of realization, he grasped Ron's arm, urgency coloring his voice. "I've just thought—Hermione," he murmured, his words barely audible above the murmurs of apprehension echoing through the corridor.

  Ron's furrowed brows mirrored the tension in the air, his expression etched with concern as he processed Harry's words. "What about her?" he inquired, his voice laced with apprehension.

  "She doesn't know about the troll," Harry replied urgently. “She’s still sat in the bathroom, you heard what Lavender said!”

  A conflict of emotions played out on Ron's face. With a reluctant nod, he acquiesced. "Oh, all right. But Percy'd better not see us."

  With practiced stealth, Harry and Ron seamlessly melded into the throng of passing Hufflepuffs, their movements fluid and silent as they navigated their way around the corner, splitting off from the main group. They took a staircase up and followed it up to the third floor and dashed across the corridor until they started to hear footsteps.

  As they rounded the corner, with a quick, urgent tug, Ron pulled him behind the formidable bulk of a stone griffin, their hearts pounding in unison as they sought cover. Peering anxiously around the statue, they breathed a collective sigh of relief at the sight of Snape's retreating figure, his dark cloak billowing behind him like a shadow.

  Harry's brow furrowed in confusion, his mind racing to decipher Snape's unexpected presence. "What's he doing? Why isn’t he with the Slytherins?" he whispered, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

  Ron's eyes narrowed in contemplation as he scanned their surroundings, his expression a mixture of suspicion and apprehension. "Wasn’t this where he was supposed to bring them?" he mused aloud, his gaze flicking to the imposing griffin statue that guarded the passage ahead. "I’m pretty sure this leads to Dumbledore’s office... not that I know the password to get in," he added with a frustrated shrug.

  Harry shrugged helplessly, his attention still fixated on the spot where Snape had disappeared from view. "Search me," he muttered.

  Exchanging a wary glance, Harry and Ron shared a silent agreement to follow Snape's fading footsteps. Anxiety knotted in their stomachs, their hearts hammering with apprehension. Suddenly, a foul stench assaulted their senses, a putrid odor that permeated the air with its nauseating intensity. Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust. The rank scent hung heavy around them.

  As they pressed forward, the distant echoes of low grunting and the heavy shuffle of colossal feet reached their ears, the ominous sounds sending shivers down their spines. Ron's silent gesture pointed them towards the source of the disturbance, his expression grim as they caught sight of a towering silhouette.

  The sight that met their eyes was nothing short of horrifying. Twelve feet tall, the troll's grotesque form loomed menacingly before them, its dull gray skin resembling weathered stone, marred with grotesque protrusions and scaly patches. Its massive body, reminiscent of a misshapen boulder, was topped with a small bald head, giving it a grotesque, coconut-like appearance. Thick, stubby legs supported its bulk, ending in flat, horned feet that seemed more suited to crushing than walking. The foul odor emanating from its hulking frame was suffocating, filling the corridor with its noxious presence, a sickening blend of decay and filth. Its small, beady eyes gleamed with malevolence, darting around as if searching for prey to satisfy its primal instincts. Every movement sent tremors through the stone floor, the sheer weight of its monstrous form threatening to bring the entire corridor crashing down around them.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  With bated breath, they watched as the troll paused by a nearby doorway, its massive form looming ominously as it surveyed its surroundings with an unsettling intelligence. Sensing an opportunity, Harry whispered urgently, “I think that’s the bathroom Hermione went to hide in!”

  The troll lumbered inside, its heavy footfalls echoing ominously against the stone walls, sending shivers down Harry's spine. Without hesitation, they rushed toward the door and heaved it open. Harry and Ron burst into the room, their eyes widening in horror at the sight of Hermione, huddled against the wall, her eyes wide with terror as the troll loomed menacingly over her.

  "Confuse it!" Harry's voice rang out, thick with desperation, as he seized a nearby tap and hurled it against the wall with all the force he could muster. The metal clanged loudly against the stone.

  For a brief moment, the creature halted in its tracks, its dull eyes scanning the room in confusion as it sought the source of the disturbance. Catching sight of Harry, it let out a guttural growl, its massive club raised menacingly as it prepared to strike. The utter smell that emitted from its gangrenous mouth sent Harry reeling back.

  "Oy, pea-brain!" Ron's voice pierced the tense silence as he launched a metal pipe at the troll, but the makeshift projectile seemed to have little effect on the enraged beast. Nevertheless, it bought Harry precious seconds as he darted around the creature, his heart pounding with adrenaline as he urged Hermione to flee to safety.

  But Hermione remained rooted to the spot, her legs refusing to obey her commands as she stared transfixed at the advancing troll. The thunderous echoes of their shouts reverberated through the chamber, goading the creature into a frenzy as it roared with fury, its malevolent gaze fixed on Ron, who stood as the nearest target.

  “I-If you can get that club away from it,” Hermione said amidst her shaking. “Maybe we can use it against itself?”

  “Harry, if you can get its attention I can get the club,” said Ron. “Try from behind!”

  In a reckless bid to protect his friends, Harry summoned every ounce of courage within him and lunged forward, throwing himself at the troll from behind. He wrapped his arms tightly around the creature's thick neck, his heart pounding in his ears as he clung to it desperately, his wand clenched tightly in his hand.

  “It’s moving too much!” Ron said, trying to aim his wand carefully. “Is there anything you can do, Harry?”

  He had an idea, but he hated it the minute it appeared in his head. It didn’t help that the troll’s skin was all sweaty and oily—rank with a disgusting odor. He gathered up the energy and rammed his wand up the Troll’s nose. This got the beast to stop its pacing so Ron could focus.

  With trembling hands, Ron brandished his wand, his voice shaking as he cried out the first spell that came to mind, the movement coming to him in a flash, but when he attempted the spell, it sputtered out little more than sparks. He grunted, cursed at what he remembered from back in Charms class, then bit his lip before calling out, a rush of lightning coursing through his veins as the power left his chest, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

  With a flick of his wand, the club soared into the air, spinning end over end before plummeting back down with a sickening crack, striking the troll squarely on the head. The creature swayed on its feet for a moment before collapsing to the ground with a thunderous thud, the impact shaking the very foundations of the room.

  Breathless and trembling, Harry struggled to his feet, his entire body shaking with adrenaline and exhaustion. Ron stood nearby, his wand still raised, his eyes wide with shock as they surveyed the scene before them. He was mouthing “I can’t believe that worked...”

  The chamber seemed to hold its breath as Hermione's voice pierced the stunned silence, "Is it—dead?"

  Harry glanced at Hermione, his own voice betraying a hint of uncertainty. "I don't think so," he murmured, his words barely louder than a whisper. "I think it's just been knocked out."

  “I...how did you know to come? What is a troll doing here anyway?” Hermione asked.

  “Professor Quirrell came and interrupted the Halloween feast—the whole school had been evacuated to safety,” Harry said.

  “And we thought...well...I thought...you didn’t know on account of uh...the things I said earlier,” Ron was scratching the back of his head. “And I’ve come to realize they were pretty mean to say, so I wanted to come and find you to apologize. Come to find out the troll was making havoc of everything, and we saw Snape wandering around up here...”

  As the gravity of their situation settled upon them, Harry's gaze fell upon his wand, its tip coated in a thick layer of gray mucus from its brief sojourn up the troll's nostril. With a grimace of disgust, he retrieved it, the sticky residue clinging stubbornly to the wood. "Urgh—troll boogers," he muttered under his breath, his expression twisting with revulsion as he wiped the unpleasant substance on the troll's trousers, leaving a streak of slime in its wake. “We’re both sorry, Hermione,” Harry said. “For dragging you into our mess with Draco, and for letting this get this far. I don’t like knowing anyone’s upset with me. I’m not here trying to get into trouble.”

  “Even if Malfoy does deserve it,” Ron added.

  Harry looked at him, confused, then he added, “Well, Draco’s probably still upset, but we’re fine with that, really.”

  “I understand,” Hermione said. “And—”

  Suddenly, the heavy silence was shattered by a loud slamming noise, followed by the unmistakable sound of hurried footsteps echoing from the corridor outside. With a collective sense of apprehension, the trio looked up, their eyes widening as the door burst open to reveal Professor McGonagall, her features etched with concern. She was closely followed by Snape, his dark eyes narrowed in suspicion, and Quirrell, who stumbled into the room with a faint whimper, clutching his chest in distress.

  Quirrell's eyes widened in terror as they fell upon the unconscious troll, and with a feeble whimper, he sank down onto a nearby toilet, his trembling hands clutching at his heart in a futile attempt to calm his rapidly beating pulse.

  Snape bent over the fallen troll. His thin, pale fingers reached out to touch the troll's massive form. Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall stood rigidly before Harry, her usually stern countenance twisted into a mask of cold fury. Her piercing gaze bore into him like a pair of icy daggers, sending a shiver down Harry's spine. Her lips, normally pressed into a thin line of disapproval, were now a stark shade of white. “What all has happened here? You’re lucky you weren’t killed.” Professor McGonagall continued, her voice cutting through the tense atmosphere like a sharp blade. "Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

  Harry felt a surge of frustration and regret wash over him as Snape's piercing gaze bore into him with an intensity that made him squirm uncomfortably. Desperately, he wished that Ron would lower his wand.

  But then a small voice emerged, its tone trembling. "Please, Professor McGonagall—they were looking for me."

  The sudden interruption caused all heads to turn toward the source of the voice, revealing Hermione standing there, hands embracing herself in a chilled embrace. “I went looking for the troll because I—I thought I could deal with it on my own—you know, because I've read all about them."

  Ron dropped his wand, and Harry was staring at her in awe. Hermione Granger, telling a downright lie to a teacher? What kind of strange upside-down world have they woken up to?

  "If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

  Harry and Ron tried to look as though this story wasn't new to them.

  "Well—in that case..." said Professor McGonagall, staring at the three of them, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

  Hermione hung her head. “I’m sorry Professor. I had heard about how dangerous they were and didn’t want it to hurt anyone else. I wasn’t thinking properly.”

  "Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Ravenclaw for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Ravenclaw tower. Professor Flitwick will be resolved at least to know he hasn’t lost one of his students."

  Hermione left. Professor McGonagall turned to Harry and Ron.

  "Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win your respective houses five points. Does that seem about right, Professor Snape?”

  Snape still stared at Harry, but offered what must have been the most difficult “Yes” in his career.

  Professor McGonagall returned, sighing, “Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."

  They hurried out of the chamber, the echoes of their footsteps reverberating through the dimly lit corridors as they descended two floors in silence.

  "It's a shame we only got five points," Ron grumbled, breaking the silence as they traversed the winding staircases.

  "Yeah, especially considering what Hermione did for us," Harry agreed, his voice tinged with gratitude. “We should thank her later when we next see her. That was amazing.”

  Ron nodded solemnly, his expression reflecting a mix of guilt and appreciation. "She really went above and beyond."

  "She wouldn't have had to if you hadn't..." Harry trailed off, his words hanging in the air.

  "I know, I know," Ron sighed, his shoulders slumping with remorse. "I feel terrible about it."

  As they stood before the entrance to the Hufflepuff Common Room, Ron turned to Harry. "Okay, I'll see you later, then," Ron said, breaking the peaceful silence as he approached the barrel that served as the entrance to the common room. With practiced ease, he tapped the wooden surface twice, then thrice, a playful grin playing at the corners of his lips.

  "One day you'll have to tell me what that has to do with Helga Hufflepuff," Harry remarked, his curiosity piqued by Ron's ritual.

  Ron chuckled, his laughter echoing softly in the corridor. "Oh, you're still thinking about that? It's her name," he explained, his tone teasing as he demonstrated the pattern of knocks. "Hel-ga," he knocked twice, "Huff-le-puff," he knocked three times.

  "Oh my god," Harry exclaimed, his realization dawning upon him.

  As Ron vanished into the barrel, Harry lingered in the corridor. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he decided to satisfy his curiosity about the house elves rumored to inhabit the castle. Slipping away from the common room entrances, he made his way down a labyrinth of corridors, guided by whispers of gossip and the faint aroma of freshly baked bread.

  Eventually, he found himself standing before a painting of a bowl of fruit. Remembering Fred and George's tales of secret passages, he remembered something George had told him a few weeks ago about the entrance of the kitchen being behind a ticklish pear. Wondering just what that meant in the moment, Harry decided he would try to figure it out.

  Harry tickled the pear in the painting, causing it to transform into a door handle. With a sense of exhilaration, he pushed open the concealed entrance and stepped into the bustling warmth of the Hogwarts kitchen.

  The sight that greeted him was a flurry of activity. House elves scurried about, their small, wiry frames darting between towering stacks of pots and pans. Their small, wiry frames were clad in golden robes that swished and swayed to match the air that was thick with the aroma of savory stews and sweet pastries, and Harry couldn't help but marvel at the efficiency of the kitchen staff as they worked tirelessly to prepare meals for the students and staff of Hogwarts.

  Careful not to disturb the busy elves, Harry hid behind a large cauldron, watching in fascination as they danced around the kitchen, their movements almost choreographed in their precision. Among them, he caught a glimpse of a particularly industrious house elf, its large ears twitching as it supervised the preparation of a batch of treacle tarts. It had looked like they were preparing food for the next morning’s breakfast.

  “Wow,” Harry had said, and then quickly and quietly ducked out of the kitchen and made his way back to the central staircase. He had arrived back at the portrait of the Pink Lady where he had quickly said, “Wingspan,” and the Pink Lady nodded, allowing him inside.

  Harry joined Asher, Dean, Seamus, Neville, and Alice Runcorn to the food set up in the common room, but his thoughts had drifted—to Hermione who from that point on become his friend. There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and Harry quickly found out that knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll was one of them. He was happy, because now he didn’t feel guilty about stealing looks at her.

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