Harry Potter and the Sorting Troll.

Harry's first friend, a young boy named Ron Weasley, had said that in order to be sorted at Hogwarts, they would all have to fight a troll. Harry didn't believe him at first, none of the children who had heard Ron's claim really did, they should have.

Harry Potter was nervous, he stood in a massive corridor, in an unfamiliar, if still majestic, castle. Standing surrounded by other children, he quickly discovered that he wasn't alone in his nerves. Tension was high throughout the group.

Turning to the boy who had quickly become his first ever friend, He asked the question it seemed everyone around him was thinking.

"How exactly do they sort us into the houses, Ron?" He asked.

(*)"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

Harry's heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? But he didn't know any magic yet - what on earth would he have to do? He hadn't expected something like this the moment they arrived. He looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified, too. No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need. Harry tried hard not to listen to her. He'd never been more nervous, never, not even when he'd had to take a school report home to the Dursleys saying that he'd somehow turned his teacher's wig blue. He kept his eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead him to his doom. (*)

"What- what kind of test, Ron? Do you know?" He asked, desperate to at least know what challenge he was about to face.

Ron's face paled quickly, his many freckles standing out horribly against the now pasty white complexion of his skin. "Well, uh, Fred had mentioned something about having to wrestle a troll? He said it was a fight of some kind at least, to test our magical abilities."

Complete silence descended on the group, Hermione had even stopped muttering about her spells, she, along with every other eleven year old in the group, stared, horrified at Ron.

"A troll?!" Harry squeaked. He had read about those while skimming through one of his new textbooks, they were huge, stupid, and very, very mean. Often armed with a club that weighed more than he did while soaking wet. Just the thought of facing one of those monsters in some kind of absurd test of might had his knees knocking together as he shook from head to toe.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, a troll." The welcome voice of a responsible adult was quickly made unwelcome by the words it carried, as the strict looking professor walked back into the room. She smiled grimly at the wide-eyed children, before she continued speaking. "The battle with the sorting troll is a tradition almost as old as Hogwarts itself. This will be a test of not only your magical knowledge and power, but of your wit, cunning, valor, and determination, the four defining traits of our houses here at Hogwarts. You will be assisted in this battle by the Hogwarts sorting hat, an ancient artifact that has seen a countless number of these battles, and will not only offer advice during this task, but analyze your every thought and action, before deciding which house you belong in."

The sound of a pin dropping would have echoed louder than a strike of thunder in the silence that followed this. The children shifted nervously from foot to foot, and all began to fight a mental battle of their own as they began to process what they were being told.

The professor cleared her throat, drawing the shocked children's attention back to herself, before she began to speak once more. "The rules of the battle are as follows, any and all forms of magic are not only accepted but encouraged, you will battle the troll until you are either knocked unconscious, have reached the five-minute mark, at which point time will be called and the troll restrained, or have managed to best the beast. Now, while victory over the troll is not unprecedented, it is not expected either, no one will judge or mock you for either a loss in this battle, or simply lasting until the time has run out."

While such a small comfort that it barely counted as such, the knowledge that they weren't expected to win the following fight did manage to calm the children's nerves a bit. Seeing this, the professor squared her shoulders, and, ordering the fledgling witches and wizards to follow her, turned and strode out of the corridor, leading them up to a pair of massive oak doors. After pausing to ensure all of the children had indeed followed her, she nodded quickly and pushed open the doors, ushering them all quickly inside.

(*) Harry had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting.

Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars.

He heard Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.

Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house. (*)

A man who Harry quickly recognized as Albus Dumbledore stood, and with a wave of his wand, all of the tables and seats in the hall shimmered, before shifting into stands not unlike those that would have been found in a colosseum or stadium, dragging the seated students and teachers with them and gently rearranging them to all be seated comfortably.

The first-year witches and wizard found themselves standing alone at in the entrance of something that could only be described now as a gladiatorial arena. Dumbledore waved his wand once more, and a small section of floor in the center of the arena began to bubble and morph, as an iron cage slowly rose from the floor.

Standing in the center of that cage, was the troll. It was huge, monstrous even, the stench of it quickly permeated the hall, and it banged viciously against the bars of it's cage with its club and fist.

A dome of golden magic sprang into life around the field of the arena, leaving the stands and where the first-year students stood on the outside of its walls. It pulsed and shone with power as the door to the cage opened, and the troll stepped out with a roar. As the cage sank back into the stone floor the troll lifted its club, and with a primal roar of rage, rushed the terrified group of children.

They screamed loudly, before the troll crashed into the wall of magic, and with a sound like a ringing gong and a short howl of pain, bounced violently off of the barrier. As the children shook in their shoes, those seated in the stands all laughed loudly at the actions of the troll, at least until the troll threw its club towards the stands with a snarl of rage. Though the club bounced safely off of the magical wall, the action and its implications were enough to quickly silence the laughter of the crowd.

The headmaster cleared his throat, drawing attention towards himself and away from the troll that had quickly retrieved its club and was now pacing in the center of the arena, growling softly. Dumbledore smiled widely, and spoke softly, as his magically projected voice reached every ear in the hall and gave him no need to raise his voice. "Professor McGonagall will now begin to call your names in alphabetical order, you will step forward, have the sorting hat placed on your head, and then proceed through the barrier of the ward, the ward itself will prevent the troll and any magic or objects from escaping the arena, so feel free to use any and all means available to you without fear of causing harm to any of the other students. Only a wizard or witch, and anything that they are in direct contact with, is allowed to move through the barrier that the ward provides."

As he paused to take a breath Dumbledore then gestured with his hand to the other end of the arena, where a small enclave was established outside the barrier of the wards, there, standing amongst a slew of beds and a tall open cabinet, filled to the brim with potions of varying size and color, stood a short, older, friendly looking witch wearing white robes. "Our resident healer, Madame Promfrey will be standing by, and quickly administer aid to any injuries our new students may obtain, severe or otherwise."

He spread his arms open wide, and said one final line, before returning to his seat. "Good luck, new students, may you fair well in this trial. Let the Hogwarts sorting begin!"

And with that, Professor McGonagall drew a scroll from the pocket of her robes, and after unfurling it, called out the first name on the list.

"Abbot, Hannah!"

With a squeak of fear, a girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of the group and walked sluggishly toward the professor. McGonagall gently placed the sorting hat on the girl's head, and after shrinking it enough to ensure that it fit well on the girl's head and applying a sticking charm to ensure it wouldn't come off until it was supposed to, she then gently pushed the young girl through the barrier.

There was a moment's pause as the young girl stared up at the great beast in front of her, before the troll let out a roar and charged towards the girl. With a scream of fright, she dropped to the ground, and curled into the fetal position, her wand laying forgotten on the floor next to her. This action, while saving her from the swipe of the troll's club, left her completely at the mercy of the vicious kick now heading her way. The large, trunk-like leg of the troll connected with the girl's side with a sickening crunch, and threw the small girl clear across the arena, where she collided with the wall of the stands, and crumpled back onto the ground, unconscious.

Thick iron chains then sprung up from the floor and wrapped around the troll quickly, ensuring that it couldn't move to further injure the young child. And with the troll tightly bound, Both Madame Promfrey and Professor McGonagall entered the arena from their respective sides of the barrier. The healer collecting the child and moving her towards the makeshift infirmary after the Professor had collected the sorting hat from the poor girl's head. The witches then left the arena, the chains withdrawing from the troll and vanishing down below the floor again, once the troll was alone in the arena.

The professor then gently placed the hat down on the stool, and the brim of the hat opened wide like a mouth, before shouting one word to the captive audience. "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Hearing that, one of the sections of the stands leapt to their feet, cheering and hooting, while the rest merely applauded politely.

The professor raised her hand, this action quieting those within the hall, and cleared her throat before reading the next name on the list. "Bones, Susan!"

And so it went, each student having their name called, and facing off with the monster before them, before either beaten into the ground, or managing to avoid the beast for the required five minutes.

Only one student so far had managed to avoid the infirmary, Susan Bones was both athletic and agile, and ran literal circles around the troll until the time was called. She too was placed in Hufflepuff.

The closest student to matching her performance, and also the only other one who managed to escape the troll's wrath and run out the timer, was Draco Malfoy. The blonde boy had repeatedly used a single spell to great effect, and while Harry couldn't hear the name of the spell he was using, whatever it was caused a large snake to burst forth from his wand every time he waved it. The boy had managed to summon ten snakes, all of them landing on or near the troll. While the snakes managed to provide a good distraction, the troll's skin was so thick that their repeated bites only served as a minor annoyance.

Either way though, it worked, and the troll was left wrestling with the snakes, completely ignoring the young boy standing as far away from it as physically possible. The time was called, the troll bound, and the snakes vanished, before the professor and healer both entered the arena once more, the professor again collecting the hat, and the healer dragging away the young boy, who was practically dead on his feet from magical exhaustion, no sooner than a second after the kindly matron laid the boy in one of her beds had he passed out, and she announced that he would not wake for several hours. The hat was happy to announce that the boy's new house was to be Slytherin.

Finally, Harry's name was called, and murmurs quickly spread throughout the hall.

"Harry Potter? The Harry Potter?"

"Look at him! He's so small!"

"This should be a good fight!"

Harry stepped forward nervously, and let the hat be placed on his head.

"Well, well, Harry Potter at last."

Harry almost fell to the ground as the smooth voice echoed within his head.

"Not to worry, Mr. Potter. No one else can hear me, this conversation is strictly between us. I can see your memories, you know? You have plenty of courage here, and no small amount of talent, I also see a great thirst to prove yourself… Well, you will find no finer opportunity to prove your worth than this challenge before you! Let's get to it, Mr. Potter!"

With those words ringing in his head, Harry stepped forward through the barrier, towards his waiting opponent.

He froze in place instantly, looking at the beast from afar was no comparison to having the monster stare down at him from 6 feet away, with nothing but that meagre distance sparing him from its wrath.

It was easily over twelve feet tall, with stale grey skin, and a lumpy body that gave it the appearance of having been carved from stone. Beady little eyes stared down at him with what could only be described as hate, and a truly terrifying hunger. The blood that covered the floor of the arena and was splattered all across the creature's body only gave credence to the fact that this troll was a threat, and that Harry's life was now in grave danger.

Whatever courage the hat had seen, or that Harry had once felt, vanished in an instant as the troll's massive club slammed down onto the ground in front of him, missing him by mere inches. With an inarticulate yell of fear, Harry turned around and bolted.

The troll gave chase, swinging its club wildly, smashing it into the floor far to close to Harry's sprinting form for his liking.

And as Harry screamed, the hat yelled within his mind.

"Come now, boy! You can do this! You felled the Dark Lord Voldemort whilst barely a year old! There is great power held within you! You just need to channel it somehow! Surely you know a spell? Surely there is at least one spell that you have learned by now!"

But there wasn't, and as Harry ran he wracked his brain, fervently, surely, he had read something, or heard someone say something, surely, there was something that he could do, some spell that he could use!

And then it dawned on him.

Voldemort.

The Dark Lord Voldemort.

A figure so powerful, so feared and evil, that Harry hadn't met a wizard yet who would even willingly say his name aloud.

For so long, Harry had had a nightmare.

A high, cold voice, laughing, and then viciously barking out a few words, before a flash of green light, and a woman screaming out her last breath.

Harry knew in his heart that the woman who screamed was his mother.

That meant that the other voice, that was Voldemort, and that flash of green light, that must have been a spell!

As the club crashed down behind him again. Harry thought to himself that surely any spell someone so powerful would use would be able to take down a troll! But for the life of him he couldn't remember what the words of the spell were!

Suddenly there was a great thud from behind him, this time though, it was not the frightening sound of the club bashing against the stone, this was a different sound. The sound of flesh hitting the floor, followed by a short groan from the troll. Harry stopped his mad dash, and turned around, clutching his wand so tight his knuckles whitened.

The troll, it seemed, had slipped on the blood that was splattered along the floor, and had fallen to the ground. Harry had to count himself lucky that the same fate hadn't befallen him. The silence from around the arena echoed inside of his head louder than anything he had ever heard before. The crowd's eyes were on him, waiting for something, the hat's voice in his ear then explained exactly what it was they were waiting for.

"This is your chance, boy! Strike now, while the creature is downed!"

But, Harry's eyes weren't on the troll anymore.

His gaze had found the infirmary, and the children there. There were many crying. Some simply sitting there, staring into nothing, in shock at what had just transpired, at how close they had come to death. The majority of them were simply lying there, appearing to be unconscious. Harry prayed that they were only unconscious.

Looking at the group of children, all in pain one way or another, none of them any older than he was, Harry felt something he had never felt before.

Rage.

Who were these people, to have children fight for their lives simply to decide what house they belong in inside of a school? Who made this sick and twisted display of brutality a tradition? And why was it so easily accepted?

With each question that his mind presented, his anger only grew.

Suddenly, Harry remembered.

He remembered the words to the spell that the most feared dark lord in the world had used on the night his parents had died.

Harry's angry eyes focused on the troll again, it was slowly beginning to climb its way to its feet.

Harry thrust his wand forward, and with great rage welling inside of his heart, bit out two words that were heard by all, in the silence of the arena.

"Avada Kedavra."

Power, indescribable, intoxicating power welled within him, and then shot forth from the tip of his wand, as magical Britain's savior cast the most feared spell known to wizardkind.

With a blinding flash of green, malevolent energy burst forth from his wand and struck the troll with all the force and power of a bolt of lightning fresh from the hand of a smiting god.

By the time the light had faded, everyone in the hall could see the troll was lying still, dead.

An unearthly silence had fallen over the hall.

An uneasy feeling hung in the air like a miasma, oppressing everyone in the hall.

Everyone except for Harry.

Harry cared not for the silence, or the trepidation felt by everyone else in the hall.

All of Harry's focus was on the troll, the smoke gently wafting from the tip of his wand, and the fading feeling of raw, unrestrained power within him.

For the first time in Harry's life, he felt truly alive.

Powerful.

He had willed for the troll to be stopped, and now it was, permanently. A flick of his wrist and two spoken words was all it took to kill the monster that had threatened not only his life, but the lives of other children as well.

He felt like a god…

How else could such ultimate power like that be described?

Harry's focus was broken suddenly, by a sound that had split the suffocating silence surrounding him.

There was someone clapping.

As Harry's senses returned, he turned to see the single source of the applause.

Professor Quirrell was standing on his feet. All traces of the fear and nervousness the man was now known for, were gone. He stood with an odd gleam in his eyes, and a large, toothy smile on his face that would have unsettled most people.

But Harry was no longer "most people".

And as the hat on his head screamed out that his place in Hogwarts was with the Slytherins, Harry met Professor Quirrell's predatory gaze with his own.

And then Harry smiled too.

-Fin-

A/N

(*)The words between these symbols are quoted directly from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, which, as I'm sure you know, is written by the lovely J.K. Rowling, not me.(*)

I am working on the two crossovers that I have posted before this, my rather infamous luck struck against me once more and saw me sat with an injury I am only barely recovering from. This was inspired by a similar ficlet that I read whilst injured.

In that story, one titled "Trial By Troll." by "DLPalindrome", our resident wizard protagonist, Harry, emerged from his battle with the troll as a hero, holding the sword of Gryffindor. I, obviously, wanted to put my own, more villainous twist on that story, and thus wrote my own version.

I hope you enjoyed the story. I also hope you will go and read the one that inspired this. That story, though heading in a decidedly different direction than mine, is still wonderfully written, and the only reason this one-shot exists.

I hope you all have a good day!

This is Onyx-Pendant, signing off.