Week Two: Halloween, An Alternative Perspective Production Options

[moonbeam3243]

This is the forum for the SECOND WEEK stories, events that happen to your character during HALLOWEEN.

[bakbam]

Severus' Encounter with the Three-Headed Dog

Severus immediately began taking roll. He paused when he called out Harry's name. "Yes Harry Potter... our new celebrity." Severus was really thinking ,"The boy who lived, the boy who caused the downfall of MY fame."

Severus proceeded into the speech he gave to every new first year class. After his speech he couldn't help but throw in a "dunderhead" insult to all those who would take offence in it. He was hoping that it offended the entire class. Severus not only had a problem with Harry, he did not like any child. He despised teaching them even more.

As he finished what he was saying Severus noticed that Harry gave the boy next to him a comical glace. This enraged him. "Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

When Harry could not answer the basic potions question he began drilling him even harder. Harry did not know any of the answers. It really upset Severus was when Harry blatantly pointed out that he didn't know, but someone else might. When Harry got hateful with him he realized just how much Harry was like his father. This was the day that Severus decided he did not care for Harry and never would.



Severus had the night shift patrolling the school. His main duty was to make certain no students entered the third floor corridor, though he was not as concerned about the students as he was with the idea that one of the teachers was trying to get into that corridor.



It was Halloween night. The Great Hall was full of young students filling up on candy. The spirits were high even for Severus, until the doors were slung open and Professor Quirrel came running in.

"Troll-in the dungeons-thought you ought to know," Professor Quirrel passed out in the floor in front of the head table.

Panic broke out in the Great Hall. Dumbledore quickly calmed everyone down. As soon as the students began to leave, Severus slipped out the back way. He sprinted to the third floor in fear that the teacher who was trying to steal the Sorcerer's Stone would make it there first.

Severus burst into the corridor and ran to the door. He hurried in the room to see if anyone was inside. Unfortunately he was too loud. The three-headed dogs woke up an started growling furiously at him. From what he could tell there was no one else in the room. As he retreated out the door a large paw came down hitting him. It caught his leg with its sharp claws. Severus locked the door behind him as quickly as he could, then turning, was startled to see the look of fear spreading across Profesoor Quirell’s face.

"Se-se-sever-us, I th-thought I-I would ch-check on th-th the door," Quirrel stuttered hopelessly as Severus was looking around the corridor for signs of anyone else.

"Yes Professor. I bet you did. The troll is obviously not up here is he? In fact no one is up here... except us," Severus was trying to make eye contact with Quirrell who was doing his best to avoid Snape’s gaze.

The two of them headed fo the first floor. Severus was determined not to let the other Professor out of his sight. Shouting could be heard when they met up with Professor McGonagall at the corner

"Did you hear that?" Professor McGonagall squealed as the crashing noises became louder. There was a huge thud and then silence. This caused the three teachers to run even faster. They burst into the bathroom. Severus looked from one triumphant face to the next. The troll appeared to be knocked out on the floor. Severus was astonished to see three first years standing after having battled a full grown Mountain Troll.

Professor McGonagall grilled the students as to why they weren't in the common room. Severus stood behind her speechless. He couldn't help but think that Harry might actually be a powerful wizard. He was more than impressed, though he would never show it.

Professor McGonagall sent the three students to their room and then left to notify Dumbledore about the situation. Severus stayed behind to have a few more words with Quirrel.

"The person who let the troll into this school will be severely punished for endangering the lives so many students." Severus peered at Quirrel who was still sitting on a toliet trying to compose himself. Severus left Quirrell to clean up the mess.

After pondering the night’s events, Severus arrived at the conclusion that Professor Quirrell was trying to steal the Sorcerer’s Stone. Now he had to discover why …and how.

[pinkpanther]

The Troll's Stroll

The troll looked around confusedly, realizing too late that his surroundings were unfamiliar. "I don't recognize this," he mumbled, sending a boulder flying into a tree with a slight kick. "Where is that smell coming from?" He lifted his grotesque nose into the crisp, atumn air and inhaled deeply. He could still smell it--humans.
The troll was very hungry. He'd been bumbling around near his cave in search of a stray goat or at least a decomposing cow, when he caught the scent of a man. Naturally, he grabbed his massive club and let his nose do the tracking. Suddenly, though, he found himself in an odd place full of nasty green trees and grass, while the despicable late-afternoon sunlight brilliantly pounded in his beady eyes. He was hot, bored, and hungry.
In the midst of deciding whether he should give up and go home, he caught sight of something purple through the brush. Curiously, he stumbled forward to smash it with his club. The bit of purple was too quick, scurrying forward an instant before the bushes were reduced to craters. This enraged the troll. He angrily chased the creature through the countryside until his slow observation skills brought him to a halt.
The sun was gone and a delightful musty smell permeated the air all around him. "I suppose I'm underground," he said, "I wonder if I'm at home." He decided that this was, indeed very much like his cave. "I know I left a pile of bones around here somewhere," he thought, vainly wandering around in the dark. As he moved forward, enjoying the cool, dampness around him, the "cave" seemed to grow lighter, until he noticed the smooth, precisely-cut stone in place of his rough walls. Puzzled, he decided that either someone had taken over his cave, or he was not so correct in assuming that he was at home. Finally, he decided on the latter. Now, he was not particularly bright--even among trolls--but he knew that light and walls meant humans and humans meant dinner. Excited by the prospect of fresh meat, the troll moved more quickly, his club randomly smashing the walls. "Me like humans," he thought to himself as he drooled and licked his lips. He was too busy deciding which type of human he would prefer first to notice that he had ascended several flights of stone stairs.
Suddenly, the scent of humans increased. He forcefully pushed open the first door he saw, smashing it against the wall. He sniffed loudly--one of them was very close. He raised his club and began levelling the room. Finally, he saw a small, rather scrawny human scurry across the floor. The troll was a bit disappointed at the size, but decided that he might as well begin his feast with a snack. He lifted his club again, but before he could strike, he was distracted by noises behind him. Turning, he saw two more humans (one dark and one light), though these were nearly as scrawny as the first. He decided to catch the darker one first, but it was too quick. As he lunged forward, it stuck something unpleasant in his nose. His eyes watered as he grew more furious and he wished that the little humans would stop shouting because the echos were hurting his ears. Frustrated, he prepared for a particularly damaging blow, but his club was missing. He looked up to see where it had gone, but, suddenly, everything went dark.

[zymurgy]

HALLOWEEN FOR HEDWIG

Ravens! It's cold up here. Well, it's not that bad, after all, Hagrid makes sure we're not freazing, and lets us out often enough. But it's getting too cold for the rats and the mice and things. That's why the Hagrid man is bringing us nice juicy steak all the time. Honestly, the way he takes care of us, you'd think he was our bona fide owner!

Although he could do us all a favor and feed us at night, as per usual. As it is, it's noon, and I've just finished my snack. I am tired. Stupid humans and their ungodly hours.

Ah... footsteps? Who's this? Wierd guy with a purple hat-looking thing on his head. He smells really wierd. No human has the right to smell like that. Gerbils, he smells like TWO humans at once!

I really hope he isn't here to send a letter. I would hate to be touched by that creap, let alone go out flying in this chilly weather. He's here to look for a student, or another teacher and then he'll go away.

No. He's comeing this way! He's chosen me. Darn. "Hey! You purpleclad smelly human!" I squawk, "I'm Harry's owl! Hands off!"

Of course, he doesn't speak owl, so he just ties a scroll to my left leg, and says, "Take this to my brother's troll farm. Be sure you get there on time, the Troll's got to arive to distract everybody."

"Oh be quiet, you hollow headed hooligan," snapped a second voice from the back of the human's head, "Don't say things like that out loud! You never know, the walls have ears..."

He simply ruffled my feathers, and gave me an owl treat, paying little attention to the voice in his turban. "Master," he said, "If the walls have ears, they nead their hearing checked bigtime."

Suddenly, the poor man was writhing on the floor, obviously hurting very, very, much. Oddly, he seamed trying his best not to scream, whereas most people would have screamed as loud as they could to get help.

"Never make jokes on the job!" shrieked the voice from the turban, "How many times must I remind you! Honestly, I should have known better than to use a week tallentless thing like you!"

The writhing stopped, and the purple man got up, panting. "Master," he said, coughing a bit, "I'm not tallentless. I got Dumbledore to hire me, and I managed to convince everyone that I'm a blundering fool, I managed to get almost all the secrets guarding the stone, I drank unicorn blood, I can handle trolls... and if I have to, I can always go to my sister, the exorsist."

There was silence from the turban for a while. "I wish to Grindewald you could do this in a cleaner way," muttered the voice, obviously having found itself again, "Letters can be traced. It would be a lot easier to use an acrumantula. Thor knows there are enough of them in the forest."

"Master," responded the purple man, a bit tight lipped, "I think it's time you outgrew using acrumantulas as distractions."

The purple man then opened the window for me, like a gentleman, instead of throwing me out bodily like certain other people. I flew out, and as I left, I saw him writhing on the floor again. Poor thing must have fits.

At any rate, I was pretty unhappy, because it was cold, the polite purple person was writhing and I couldn't help, and to top it off, the adresse of that brother of his was rather far off. In a mountain cave in Germany, actually.

I finally got there, and dropped off my note. If I didn't know it, I would never have thought the man was the purple person's brother. He was huge, and hairy, and very, very, muscled.

"So, my baby brother wants a troll," he muttered, "it's time he outgrew those stupid pranks."

He walked to a huge padlock, where dozens of very stupid looking trolls were milling about. He chose one particularly dumb looking one, and lead it out of the padlock.

I backed away, quickly, wondering weather he would try to make ME take the thing back to Hogwarts. Fortunatly, this human had some sence, which is more than most of them do. He lead the troll to a large fireplace, and pushed him inside.

"There now, Grundlebag," he said, soothingly to the beast, "Brother has connected the fireplace with the forbidden forest. The creatures there are really nice..."

Grundlebag simply grunted. The big man lit a fire, and threw in some flue powder. "Forbidden Forest, send one!" he yelled into the fire, and the troll wooshed off.

The hairy man glared at me. "Well, what are you waiting for you stupid bird?" he asked, "Get along home!"

I didn't nead telling twice, and spent the rest of the day napping peacefully, as is good and propper.

[McGonagall's Cat]

Gillywater, Mulled Mead, and Red Currant Rum


“Tha’ be all, Perfesser Dumbledore?” Hagrid asked as he put the odd assortment of astronomy devices he'd been asked to bring from the storage area onto a table near the steps.

“Yes, yes, Rubeus.“ Dumbledore was intently studying a tiny book that when fully opened was only the size of a deck of cards. He tipped his head back to better peer through his half-moon glasses. Suddenly realizing he was not being cordial, he turned and smiled at the huge man. “Will you be joining us at the Feast tonight?”

“Ah, no, Perfesser. Goin t’ the pub. Madam Rosemerta’s havin’ a bit of celebration tonigh’. Woon’t want t’ miss that shindig!” Hagrid said with child-like enthusiasm. Then he realized he was turning down The Headmaster in a way that could be interpreted as a bit of an insult. “I mean, the School’s Feast is wonderful, an’ all. I sure do thank you for …” he was starting to stumble over his words, his discomfort growing with each passing second.

Dumbledore chuckled, “It’s alright Hagrid. I’m sure the students will be too busy with their own celebrating to notice which of the teachers are present.” He winked, adding,
“Wish Madam Rosmerta a glorius Samhain!” then he returned to reading the little book.

Hagrid hummed as he left the office and headed to his hut to get ready for his evening on the town.

[moonbeam3243]

Ron's Halloween

Halloween proved quite eventful indeed.

Ron blinked in the early morning light. There was no way he could go back to sleep now; Harry was snoring. Loudly. For a long while Ron merely lay in bed contemplating new ways to make snide remarks to Hermione. His mind briefly touched on how it may be wrong to do such a thing, but then he remembered the way her last potion hadn't caught on fire as his had done, and Ron let his mind drift back to new ways to tease the bushy haired girl.

"Vmmror," Harry mumbled under his breath as he rolled over. Ron glanced at him through the crack in his bed curtains. Propped against the head board was the still-new Nimbus 2000. Briefly, like a thread through his heart, Ron felt jealous of Harry--everyone knew and liked him, he was the youngest quidditch seeker at Hogwarts in a century, and he had a Nimbus 2000. As quickly as it had come, Ron's envy was gone. It didn't matter how much Harry had and Ron didn't; they shared everything. Ron grinned. You know you've got a true friend when even a Nimbus 2000 doesn't get in the way.

***

Ron's good mood was entirely gone by dinner. Despite the giant pumpkins and real live black bats and overabundance, Ron still felt bad about what had happened that morning in Charms. Harry, cramming a large handful of candy corn down his mouth, had completely forgotten all about it. Ron was eating ravenously as usual--Hermione crying by herself in the girl's bathroom wasn't a reason to starve, after all--but there was a little nagging voice in the back of Ron's mind that he wished would shut up.

Then Quirrell burst into the Great Hall.

The thing you must know is that Ron had never seen a troll before, which was, perhaps, worse. So when Quirrell came into the Great Hall screaming about one, Ron's mind emptied of everything but the horrible monsters his brothers would describe to him when they were trying to scare him. Considering that Ron not only had five brothers but two were Fred and George, Ron had some very creative ideas about trolls indeed.

Percy, of course, immediately took over. Harry and Ron followed him with the rest of the first years.

"They kill you by sitting on you and eating you backwards," Fred had told Ron once when Ron had been about to tell on the twins for a prank.

Harry stopped Ron, pulling him aside and reminding him about Hermione. You can perhaps understand why it took Ron a moment to remember Hermione with the lovely thought of backwards-eating on his mind.

"I'll put a troll under your bed. They wait till you're asleep, then fart in your face to make sure you stay that way. Then they pull all your bones out of your body...through your nose," Percy had told Ron during a fight over Scabbers.

There were footsteps behind them.

"Percy!" Ron hissed, grabbing Harry and forcibly jerking him behind a statue. Harry gave Ron a look. Percy may be an overpretentious git, but even he didn't merit such violent reactions.

They glanced around the statue. It was Snape, not Percy. Harry wondered about this as they crept away, but Ron was busy trying not to think about his bones being ripped out of his nose. His nose twitched. Wait a minute...

"Do you smell something?" he asked Harry.

And there it was, the troll. Twelve feet tall and made out of what appeared to be pliable rocks. It looked as stupid as a rock, too, certainly too stupid to pull one's bones out through one's nose. The farting thing may still be true, to say nothing of being eaten backwards. Ron let Harry take care of locking the troll in the room it wandered into.

"Aieee!" came a scream from the room. It was decidedly not and troll's scream.

An image flashed in Ron's head. Hermione, crying, alone. Because of him. Now trapped with a troll that may or may not eat her backwards. Because of him.

Ron and Harry burst through the door as one. It shows how very concerned Ron was that his eyes sought out Hermione--not the troll--first. She stood eerily still but still clearly terrified against the wall across from the boys. Ron tried to get Hermione's eye, tell her somehow it would be ok, but Harry was already chucking sink taps at the troll and this was obviously the more logical thing to do.

The troll lunged towards Harry, but Ron desperately tried to distract it. I won't let the troll have either of my friends, he though without even realizing that somehow he had irrevocably classified Hermione as a friend. This thought was replaced by rapidly growing terror, however, as the troll backed Ron into a corner. For the first time that night, Ron was suddenly more afraid of the front end of the troll than the back end.

Ran eyed the troll's club. The troll eyed Ron. Consequently, they were both a bit startled when Harry popped up on top of the troll and rammed his wand up its nose.

Ron blinked for several seconds. In those seconds, the trolls started to jump around and swing his club chaotically in an attempt to remove the pest on his back and--more importantly--the one in his nose.

What to do, what to do, he was a wizard but he still didn't know what to do!

"WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!" he shouted before he realized his hand was already swishing and flicking.

There is nothing quite so satisfying as the thudding sound a troll makes as it hits the floor.

[ronsmyman]

Quirrell's Painful Mistake

Quirrell made his ways through the halls, composedly enduring the constant abuse streaming from his turban. He had just sent the letter to his German cousin, requesting the troll for that evening's intrigue. If all went according to plan he would meet the troll in the dark forest just after sundown.

He went back to his classroom to teach more pupils and await the end of the day with much trepidation. His class of fourth years traipsed in and he set to informing them about the evils of vampires.

“V-vampires as we a-all know are v-v-very demonic creatures,” Quirrell stuttered. He spent the rest of the class period telling the class, in his slow stuttering way, the story of how he had acquired his turban from a village that had been terrorized by a vampire until he had vanquished it. The fourth years had known all about vampires since they were five years old and felt that this lesson was quite beneath them. Quirrell knew all of this but had to maintain appearances of being a weak person and teacher.

Finally the class ended and Quirrell was left to the happy knowledge that he had only one last class to teach today, the day would soon be over.

*******

Voldemort sneered at his loathsome host, two months spent in Quirrell’s body had made the man more detestable to him than half of the aurors that had fought him in his prime. He was constantly having to be chastised for his weakness and impropriety.

Luckily tonight might prove to be the last night he would have to spend as Quirrell’s body mate. In a few mere hours, the third floor corridor would be broken into and the obstacles that stood between him and the stone would be shoved aside. If Quirrell didn’t screw up that was.

*******

The bright globe of the sun had descended to light the other side of the globe, and Quirrell exited Hogwarts, making his way towards the dark forest. When he had first come to Hogwarts he had been a proper Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He still was, but no one needed to know that. He crouched behind a shrubbery awaiting the troll’s arrival at the discussed destination. After ten minutes of uncomfortable crouching the troll arrived.

His DADA instincts kicked in and he would have laid that troll out in an instant if Voldemort hadn’t let a steady stream of insults remind him of what the troll was there for. Knowing that trolls were attracted by brightly colored objects, Quirrell bravely extended his head just above the top of the shrub. Instantly attracted by the bright purple turban, the troll lunged for him. Expecting this move, Quirrell lunged forward with the agility of a high school rugby player and lured the troll forward. They played cat and mouse until Quirrell was sure that the troll was furious. He then used a spell to transport him into the dungeons of Hogwarts.

Brushing his hands together, Quirrell approached the entrance to Hogwarts and slid inside. He took a moment outside the Great Hall to compose himself for what was going to be his finest performance yet, then gathering his breath, he backed up and ran into the Hall, screaming.

“Troll! Troll in the Dungeon!!!” He cried, with every last bit of air that he could muster from his lungs. “Thought you ought to know.”

He then passed out in a dead faint on the floor. In the beginning it was quite a real faint. He had deprived himself from all oxygen and therefore had blacked out for a moment. He was unhappily woken a few seconds later by the sensation of the entire student body trampling his slender frame. He was careful not to display his consciousness, however, and very patiently withstood the footsteps upon his backside. He was very thankful that he had fallen face forward in the beginning, but when he remembered that the Dark Lord was taking the brunt of the abuse he dreaded the hours of screaming that would take place later that night.

Finally the hall was silent, Quirrell, however remained prostrate on the floor for a few minutes, just to make certain that everyone had gone. Risking a squinty-eyed peep around the room, Quirrell saw that it was vacant. He got up and dusted himself off, disgusted to find not only footprints, but pieces of every dish that they had served during the feast, smeared all over his robes.

“Scourgify!” He declared pointing his wand at himself. The mashed potatoes and treacle tart disappeared from his clothing and he cautiously snuck from the Great Hall to the third floor corridor.

*******

Voldemort wished that the infinitesimal minded man he had the misfortune to possess would hurry up to the stone, rather than sneak through the castle in this stupid manner. The staff was in the basement and the students were in their house dormitories, there was no cause for stealth, only speed.

In his impatience, Voldemort abused Quirrell even more heavily than usual, in hopes of kindling him to anger and taking advantage of the adreneline rush that usually accompanies it. However, Quirrell merely ignored all of his verbal jabs and continued to sneak through hallway after hallway, finally they were just around the corner from the corridor. The stupid man paused to take a breath. Voldemort wished more than ever for his own body, with which he could give Quirrell a good pound in the face. Even the cruciatus curse wasn’t as tempting to him and a good solid fist in the face.

*******

Feeling his master’s impatience Quirrell summoned his courage and rounded the corner, running smack into professor Snape. Quirrell’s heart stopped, as did his brain, he stood there, still as a statue, not thinking about what Snape and the rest of the staff would say, but knowing that all chances for getting the Philosopher’s Stone tonight and being rid of his master, had evaporated. He stood there in shock, mumbling some sort of excuse to Snape for being there. He had no idea what he was saying. Fear had enveloped him. He knew that tonight he would experience far worse torture than he could ever imagine.

Snape began to move and Quirrell instinctively followed, looking longingly back at the door for a moment before mounting the stairs behind Snape. He followed not knowing where he was going, just trying to summon up all of the courage he would need to face his master in the mirror this night. He vaguely noticed Professor McGonagall joining their group and doing an about face, but he didn’t care where they were headed. He was concerned because since the encounter with Snape, Quirrell had heard nothing in the back of his head.

When they arrived at their destination, Quirrell was shocked out of his stupor momentarily when he saw his troll lying unconscious on a bathroom floor, being looked over by three first year students, one of which was Harry Potter. He stood gaping at the troll even after everyone else had gone. Harry Potter had helped to do this? This was not good news, and a sort of cloud brewing in the back of his head told him that his master felt the same way.

After staring at the unconscious beast for a half hour, Quirrell knew he could no longer prolong the inevitable. He summoned the troll to his room and after depositing him in the fireplace (along with a large handful of Floo Powder of course) he braced himself for the unpleasantness to follow.

*******

Voldemort stared into the mirror. Quirrell had rigged up two mirrors so that they could converse face to face when Voldemort needed to look him in the eye. Right now venom seemed to seep from every pore in his face. He detested this man more than anything alive right now. His chances to regain his power had been lost for now, because of his slothfulness. The hatred pouring from his eyes made Quirrell shudder.

“Shudder now, worm,” he hissed. “It’s the least painful thing you’ll be doing for hours.”

And with that, Voldemort hit Quirrell with a Cruciatus curse, backed not only by his powerful magic, but by his venomous hatred and loathing for the creature he inhabited.

*******

Quirrell fell to the floor, overcome by torrents of pain. He had been punished before, but those seemed like paper cuts compared to this, had he not cast the “Silencio” spell upon himself before hand, his screamed would have brought the entire school running to his aid.

[SiriuslyIrish]

What an Old Man Saw

As Albus lay in his bed, comfortable in his woolen dressing gown, he could not help but going over the events of the day in his mind.

Harry had proved, in a single instant, that he was a great wizard. Only eleven years old, and he had taken a full grown mountain troll. He and his friend, Ron, had faced the odds that were overbearingly against them, and had come through without so much as a scratch.

He remembered how they had teased that poor muggle-born girl, Hermione. He was incredibly saddened that they hated her so. She was wise beyond her years, she understood situations, people, things. She was analytical. Albus had seen in her what Harry would need in the battle against Voldemort. He knew she would be an asset to the cause, and he felt guilty of deciding these things for a mere child. Although he had done the same with Harry. But Harry was destined for these things, it was already decided for him. He had done so with Ron. Ron, whose loyalty to Harry was by far the greatest loyalty he had seen in years. The loyalty James and Sirius... He stopped himself. That was too painful to think of, and if Ron turned traitor...

He sat at the feast, he could merely pick at his food, he was not really hungry anyway. And Hermione was not there. He would go look for her. But not just yet. She needed her time alone, she had been so upset. She was important to the cause, he could already tell she would have great power. She could not be discouraged. If only she could make a few friends.

Then Professor Quirrell stormed into The Great Hall. Albus' head shot up. Had Quirrell been gone the whole time? The situation seemed very suspicious indeed. But Quirrell had always been the odd type, extremely reclusive. His absence from the feast seemed typical.

"Troll!" He yelled for the whole hall to hear. "Troll! In the dungeon! Thought you ought to know!" And then he fell to the floor in a dead faint.

It was chaos after that, as students rushed for their common rooms, and teachers tried to calm them as they rushed to the dungeon.

But Albus knew trolls. And he knew it would not stay in the dungeon long, when there were so many people to feed on so nearby. All the students had made it safely out of the great hall, were being escorted back to their common rooms, now. They were safe.

Then his thoughts rushed back to Hermione, crying, alone, in a girls' toilet. She would be oblivious to the fact that there was a troll in the school. He ran quickly to find her, but found Ron and Harry, closing the door, locking the troll into a room.

'Smart,' Albus thought, 'Very smart, boy.' Then he heard the squeal of a young girl, and realized joltingly the room they had just locked had been the same room he had been heading for to retrieve Hermione.

Ron and Harry seemed to realize this, too, and opened the door quickly, never hesitating bursting in on a troll to save the girl, the girl they had never liked, never considered a friend, the girl they had seemed to almost hate.

Albus swelled up like a proud father when viewing the nobility, the courage, the complete selflessness, all in the face of very real danger. He could not help his curiosity, made himself invisible, and followed them into the small room. He wanted to see if Harry could stand up to the challenge. A troll was nothing to Albus Dumbledore. He was old, had faced many trolls in his life, and could wipe this one out with a single twitch of his wand. And he would do so if the trio seemed to need the help. But he wanted more to see if they could handle this evil. Although it was a significantly smaller force than Voldemort, the group was so young, the task seemed to foreshadow what would come inevitably.

He almost intervened, as he watched Harry jump on the back of the troll, an incredibly stupid, although brave, stunt. But the situation never got out of hand.

Albus was nearly asleep, now. Not only were the two boys already powerful wizards, they were loyal, they had the instincts they needed, and luck seemed to be on there side. Luck was always important. He smiled in his sleepy haze. Harry now had two very useful, loyal friends.

As he drifted into dreams of his hearts deepest desire, peace among all creatures, he had a fleeting thought. Madame Pomfrey had told him that when she went to tend to Quirrell, she had not been able to find him.

[bakbam]

Neville's Halloween

The common room was fairly empty. Neville was always one of the first to get up in the morning. He curled up in the big fluffy chair closest to the fire and tried to work on some homework. He could not concentrate. He was thinking about the horrible time he had had the day before. I fell off a broom in front of my entire class. Even worse is that I cried when I broke my arm. I bet no one else would have cried. They all think I am stupid, I just know they do.

What bothered Neville the most was knowing that there was a humongous three-headed dog just a few floors away from where Neville was sitting.

"Neville, Here I picked this up for you yesterday after you fell," Harry handed Neville his remembral.

"Th-Thanks, " Neville said timidly.

"Is your arm alright?" Harry asked.

"Arm! Oh it is fine. It was a clean break. I have broken my arm more times than I can remember." Neville was embarrassed and would not look at Harry.

Harry started to walk away and Neville turned to him quickly. "Thanks for asking Harry."

**********

It was Halloween and Neville still had not made any close friends in his year. He often found himself the butt of someone elses joke. Neville didn't pay much attention to the others. You would usually find him sitting alone in a corner doing some extra reading or he continuously had detention from Professor Snape. Occasionally he would be staring out the window watching Harry and the rest of the team during Quidditch practice. Neville loved Quidditch, but after his nasty fall from the broom he was frightened he would make another spectical if he were to try flying again.

Neville was looking forward to Charms. The class were to learn to make objects fly on this particular day. The first thing Professor Flitwick paired the class off.

"Harry, You and Mr. Finnigan, Ron and Ms Granger, And Neville and ...Well Neville and Ms Patil. Is everyone now paired off? Let's begin." The Professor said as he stepped back onto his pile of books.

Neville was hoping to get paired with Harry or even Ron, but not Patty Patil. She always spent her time turned in her seat talking to whomever was closest. She never would talk to him.

Neville was practicing his arm movement when he overheard Ron and Hermione bickering. Neville could not help but to think of how much those two liked each other. He even let out a small giggle as they were fighting.

The class was over and everyone was leaving. Ron had said some things about Hermione that she was not suppose to have heard. Hermione immediately broke down in tears and fled from the room. After witnessing this Neville tried to catch up with her but couldn't.

Neville was angry with the others for hurting Hermione's feelings. He tried to find her throughout the rest of the day but had no hope. He found out that she had locked herself in the girls laboratory. Neville could not bring himself to knock on the bathroom door. He did stand in front of it a few moments before he decided to go on to dinner.

Neville was one of the last students to the Great Hall for dinner. He was walking down the isle looking for somewhere to sit when Professor Quirell ran by almost knocking him to the floor. Neville was just sitting down when he heard Professor Quirell utter Troll in the Dungeons. Neville missed the seat and fell to the floor. There were students all around him trampling his fingers.

Neville pulled himself and began to run with all the other students. He made his way to the front next to Percy when he realized the Hermione was still in the bathroom. Neville turned to go back down the stairs, but Percy noticed him and grabbed him by the collar.

"Where do you think you are off too? To the Common Room. You are not going to get ME in trouble. " Percy gave Neville a look of outrage.

Neville tried to explain about Hermione, but Percy was to busy playing Prefect to listen.

Once in the Common Room Neville paced back and forth in front of the entrance. He was worried about Hermione, and had realized that Harry and Ron were missing as well. He was grateful when the door opened and the three of them entered the room.

"Hermione, Are you alright?" After seeing the look on their faces Neville asked them, "Did you see the troll?"

The three of them told Neville all about the troll and about the extra points for Gryffindor. This was the first time that Neville felt that the others liked him.