Chapter 12: Poor, dreadful, troll

For some time, Harry, together with Hermione and Daphne, had been touring the castle. During their time at Hogwarts so far, they had already found a number of secret passages, doorways and staircases. Hermione, ever the curious one, decided for all of them, that they would use at least part of the evening to scour the castle for more of its secrets.

"I mean, if we can't use the time to do more of our homework," she declared, almost sounding a little contrite at the lack of unfinished homework, "we should find something different to occupy our time."

Harry and Daphne stifled their amusement at Hermione's comment, because they too thought Hermione had a point. Also, at least Harry massively enjoyed his friend's never-ending was refreshing after the ignorance and general disdain for academic knowledge usually displayed in the Dursley household.

The group was strolling through the lower levels of the castle comparing their thoughts on their first exam and homework scores. The grading system used by the teachers led to some confusion for the two muggle-raised students.

"So, it is outstanding, exceeds expectations, acceptable, poor, dreadful, troll, right?" Harry asked for confirmation.

Daphne nodded, and Harry continued his questioning, "But there are also points for some reason? I'm sure I saw Snape mouth something like 'zero' when he was grading papers the other day."

"I bet he did," Daphne giggled at Harry's pronouncement.

After calming down, she added, "And yes. Technically, the points are for everything but OWLs and NEWTs. Still, many teachers use the other grades along with points, because there is a simple table to convert one into the other." She inclined her head a little, brows furrowed in thought. "Now that I think about it, I really don't see the point in having two systems, to be honest."

Now, Harry himself started asking that very question and before he could even consider a possible solution, his senses were attacked by a cacophony of information. None of it was good. His nose was filled with a foul smell, as if something had died and been let rotting for a few weeks. His inherent 'danger-sense', honed in years of gouging his uncle's moods and running from Dudley and his gang, screamed in alarm. His ears reported heavy breathing and steps that reverberated through the entirety of the corridor. Finally, his eyes identified the source for all the other sensations: In front of them stood a giant thing, large, remotely human, with a dumb look etched into its face and an enormous club in its hands.

"Uh-oh," he heard from the direction of Daphne, barely even whispered.

The troll seemed to have heard, as it turned its attention towards the source of the sound. Spotting the three little first years, it grunted and began to sprint towards them, every step vibrating through the walls of the castle.

"Run!" Harry needlessly shouted, the three friends turned around and ran.

However, it turned out quite soon that they would need a better plan than simple running away, as they soon started to pant, while the troll still looked as fresh as when it had started to run. Which was not 'fresh' at all, but that had not changed either.

"To the secret passage!" Hermione cried. At the questioning glances of the other two and after some more panting, she added, "the collapsed one, it had two entrances… 'pant…' we lure him in, then leave through the other one and… 'pant…' lock both."

Harry, just like Daphne, nodded his assent and the group headed to one of the secrets they had found earlier in the day. It was a secret passage that led away from the castle, but it was blocked by a huge cave-in. The masses of stone had left something else that was now useful; there were two entrances to the passage: one large and one small which both would lock after being used.

While Harry ran along his two friends, he could mostly smell the troll coming nearer. Any moment, he expected a giant club to come down on his head, or an enormous hand to grab him and yank him up into the air. Suddenly, they were at the entrance and Hermione frantically tried to get the wall of solid stone to budge.

As the troll was only a few meters away, the wall finally vanished. The children burst along the ever-narrowing corridor, the troll getting slower and slower, since he had to duck now. As Hermione started opening the second entrance to the secret corridor, the troll was actually stuck so badly between the floor, low roof and walls. Harry could nearly sympathise.

Nearly.

The children sank down the wall the passage had vanished into and tried to regain their breaths. Harry looked at the flushed faces of the two girls, both still panting as much as he was, and all of a sudden, they all started laughing. Harry had no idea why they did it, but he felt the tension, the fear, even part of the anxiety the day had caused him leave his body.

After they had regained their ability to breathe normally, Hermione, always the sensible one turned to Harry and Daphne. "We should really tell someone about this, you know? Who knows how long it'll be trapped," she proposed.

Almost as if to illustrate her point, the wall behind their backs shuddered under what was clearly the impact of a giant club.

"Great Hall?" Harry guessed, and the others nodded.

And so it came, that the three first-years entered the chaos that was the Great Hall, nearly tripping over the prone form of Professor Quirrell, unconscious on the floor. They walked briskly towards the head table and wondered who to talk to. Harry did not trust the headmaster completely, so it was either Snape or McGonagall.

"Snape or McGonagall?" he whispered to the others, who looked at the head table.

"McGonagall, she's Dumbledore's deputy," Hermione decided and they made their way towards her chair.

"Professor," Daphne started, but was briskly cut off by the stern voice of the transfiguration professor.

"Not now, Ms. Greengrass, we have the troll to deal with. Just follow your prefects to the dorms quickly and orderly," she ordered in her Scottish brogue.

"About the troll, we kind of ran into it already," Daphne explained, eliciting a small gasp from the usually calm teacher. "We were in the dungeons, when we met it. We trapped it into an unused passage, but we're not sure how long that will hold him."

"Perhaps you want to enlighten me, why you were not at the feast?" McGonagall, who had regained her usual composure now asked in a tone of voice that clearly told Harry it was more of an order than anything else.

"I…" he started, at a loss as to how to explain his feelings about the date to this teacher he barely knew.

"I really didn't feel like celebrating the day that…" There was no need for him to continue, as McGonagall just nodded and leaned towards the headmaster, who had started listening halfway through the conversation.

That evening, although still not festive for Harry, saw the pupils enjoy dinner in their house common rooms, where Harry and Daphne were forced to reiterate the story of their "troll-catching" numerous times. In the end, without the festivities, Harry enjoyed just having dinner with his best friend and their little group.

Still, Hermione and Neville were missing from their circle.

Friday, or 'after-troll-day' as Harry now thought, saw him wake up early to the silent moans of his dorm-mate. Cennydd was thrashing around in his sleep and seemed to be having an all-around bad time. Harry got up to wake his friend, in hopes of ridding him of the nightmares he, himself, was unhappily familiar with. He went over to the second bed and started shaking the sweating boy.

"Cennydd, wake up," he called out silently, unwilling to disturb him more than necessary. After another shaking and another silent "Wake up!" the dreaming boy shuddered silently and his eyes flew open.

"What! Where am I?" he uttered in a horrified voice.

"It's alright mate, you're in the dorms. You just had a nightmare," Harry answered in what he hoped was a consoling, reassuring voice.

"Wanna tell me what you were dreaming about?" he asked the still frightened sweaty boy.

"Not really, to be honest," came the prompt and not-so-surprising answer.

"Suit yourself, but it might help you. I promise I won't tell anyone, or make fun of you," he tried to soothe his friend's nerves. Cennydd became very still for a few moments, took a deep breath and closed his eyes, as if he was steeling himself for something entirely hard to do.

"It's the same dream over and over, actually. Haven't had it since I came to Hogwarts, no idea why it came back," he told Harry, his voice devoid of any emotion, his pain only visible in his tired, disturbed face. "I have no idea what it is, but it is always the same. Screaming, flashing lights. I know it sounds silly, but every time I have it, I am completely out of sorts the next day. These screams…" he shuddered.

To Harry, this all sounded a tad too familiar to be coincidence. He himself knew such a dream: a dream with a woman screaming, a bright green light. He supposed it was from the night his parents had died. Now that he knew they had been murdered by magic, the green flash also made way more sense than before.

"I know how you feel," he said to Cennydd as he sat down on his bed and looked at the distraught boy. At his dorm-mate's pronouncement, said boy looked a little questioningly, so Harry elaborated, "I have a dream like that, too. The screams, the lights. Well, just one light, bright and green."

He choked a little and forced himself to continue, "You know my parents were killed, and I think I'm dreaming of that night, of Voldemort's laughter and my mother's screams."

In complete shock, Cennydd sat there and seemingly analysed the situation he was presented with. "That might be the reason for your dream, but I'm muggleborn, and my parents are still alive," he concluded his analysis, making Harry feel a little stab in his heart at being reminded of his status as an orphan in such a rather blunt way.

Still, he kept his mouth shut, unwilling to disturb his friend any more.

Later that morning saw Daphne, Harry, Cennydd and Tracey at the breakfast table discussing their expectations for the day. Daphne's were not high, which she pointed out vocally to the rest of their group.

"Excuse me for not being happy about Snape`s so-called 'surprise test', but even with the warning those fourth-years gave us, three days are not long to cram for a potions exam, and Harry, if you don't erase that smug smile from your face right now, we're going to have a serious problem," the last bit she had directed at her best friend, whose annoyingly good mood concerning the potions test was bugging her incredibly. Meanwhile, said best friend had taken on a look of hurt which she could see was only partly mock. Now that she did not want.

"Am I really that bad?" he asked, again mock-hurt and real hurt mixed in his voice.

"Of course not, after all you helped me study for the test. It's just hard sometimes to see you have such an easy time with potions, even if Snape seems to dislike you," she explained, happily noting that the look of hurt was nearly gone from Harry's face. Before the conversation went further, the slight whooshing of hundreds of wings filled the air, signalling the arrival of the post owls.

One of the larger, more regal looking ones landed in front of Harry. It had a scroll bound to its claw adorned with a seal from the Ministry, which Harry unfastened. After nicking a piece of bacon from one of the platters and drinking some pumpkin juice from Harry's goblet, the bird took off again, while Harry broke the seal on the parchment.

As he started reading, Daphne could see the signs of him going into what she internally called 'guarded-Harry-mode'. Somehow, this scroll had reminded him of the Dursleys, somehow he felt threatened. Without another word, her best friend in the world got up, leaving behind his half-eaten breakfast and hurriedly left the hall.

Daphne entered the potions dungeon with a double feeling of agitation. The agitation that came with a potions test and the agitation that she felt over Harry's unusual departure from breakfast. He sat in the first row of workstations, nervously fidgeting with his robes and playing around with parchment and quill.

"Harry, are you okay?" she asked silently. Her best friend shuddered, stiffened as she touched his shoulder. He reminded her so eerily of the Harry she had met earlier that year that another source of agitation was added to her growing anxiety. She did not want to see him like this.

"I'm fine," he said in an emotionless voice, coupled with a shrug.

She looked at him with a questioning glance, but he avoided her eyes and instead lowered his eyes towards his workstation. Before she could continue to question him to get the contents of the letter out of him, Snape came in, followed by his usual, billowing cloak.

"I will be testing you on the pepper-up potion today, follow the directions on the board," he ordered in his silky voice.

With a gleam towards the youngest Weasley boy, he added, "Then, you will brew the potion. You have until the end of the lesson. Begin."

Daphne watched Harry scratch away, answering the questions on the board, but she could see her best friend was not really into the task. He would probably still score high points, even though he was obviously distracted, worried even. She managed to tear her gaze away from this boy who was so important to her and ordered her mind to concentrate on the questions that were on the board. They were actually manageable for a change, after having spent a lot of time with Harry, Tracey and Cennydd revising the subject.

She managed to finish in time, and although she was sure she had scraped at least a high Acceptable, Daphne did not manage to really be happy. Harry, who had left the potions classroom as abruptly as the Great Hall, was just not his usual self. She turned towards her other friends. No, if something bothered Harry, he would have talked to her if he would talk to someone.

"Hey, do you know anything about why Harry is like that? Did he tell you anything about the letter, Cennydd?" she asked, her tone almost pleading. With only sad nods as responses, she could not help the feeling of dread that settled over her.

"A ministry seal… his unclear status with his relatives… could it be…" she mulled around in her head.

Harry was in the same mood for the better part of the weekend. Whenever Daphne would try to talk to him, he was 'just fine.' If she tried touching or hugging him, he started to tense up even worse than when she had first met him. It all grated on Daphne's nerves severely, worried her to no end.

And it hurt.

"You know he doesn't do it on purpose, right?" Tracey asked her Sunday after lunch, a tender, caring smile on her face.

"I know; I just worry. He isn't usually like this, that's all. He's almost like when I first met him maybe even worse. Right after…" she just managed to hold herself back before she told the girl something Harry would not want her to know.

"Right after?" the somewhat nosy girl prodded, to Daphne's great consternation.

"Sorry, can't tell you. It's Harry's story to tell," she informed her friend, causing a crestfallen look on the petite witch's face.

"Guess I'll just have to ask him then. When he's a little more talkative maybe…" she mumbled, but Daphne barely even listened anymore, too worried about her friend's strange behaviour.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, was pacing in his office. That, in and of itself, was not very unusual. He did it a lot these days, more so than ever since the end of the last Civil War. The reason for his pacing, though was unusual: his conscience was weighing heavily on his mind.

With Quirrell acting 'strangely' and his sources giving him note of Voldemort's disappearance from his old hideout in Albania, not to mention the Gringotts break-in, he had to take care of Harry's safety. Having the stone in the castle was an unfortunate risk for the boy's safety, but sadly unavoidable. However, what he could do was keep him safe during his summers, which meant getting him back to his family, back to the blood of Lily Evans Potter.

He was sure of that now.

Behind him, his phoenix trilled a sad few notes, watching his friend doing his manipulating. Albus knew what his familiar was doing, because he himself felt almost disgusted by his manipulations. The only thing he could do to console himself over using his contacts at the ministry to force Harry back to the Dursleys, forcing him to go back over the holidays even, was telling himself two things over and over again: 'It's for the Greater Good and they're his family, they will not treat him too badly.'

It was Sunday evening and Harry was sitting on his bed, glumly staring at the wall opposite of him. The Ministry letter was lying beside him after he had read it again, hoping to find something more than what he had been able to get from his first read, especially considering his panicked state of mind during the first time. However, even with his second and third read, he had been unable to find a way out.

"Fourth time's the charm," he chuckled inwardly without any mirth.

Dear Mister Potter,

It has recently come to my attention that you have illegitimately left the care of your current guardians, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of Privet Drive No. 4, Surrey.

The current arrangement for temporary guardianship given to Auror and Mrs. Greengrass due to the illegitimacy of your coming to stay with them, has been overturned. Therefore, as per the agreement reached with your relatives by this department, you are to return to your family over the holidays, until a formal complaint against their supposed mistreatment of you can be processed.

In light of this development, please see the school healer, Madam Pomfrey, to receive the medical exam you were unable to when you were in the Ministry earlier this year.

Sincerely,

Kyle Spencer

Head of Magical Child Protective Services

AN: Hey guys and gals,

I am sorry for the short and late chapter, but I had an important exam and changed flats, that is just a lot of work. Hope you enjoy the chapter, please leave a review.

Thanks to Haphne24, my awesome beta.

alexandertheII