Unforeseen Trials (Completed)

"Settle down Daphne!" Lily Moon scolded, "you're acting like a child!"

"I am not acting like a child." Her friend snapped. It was Wednesday night, and they were waiting for the first-year dueling club to begin. While Lily wasn't very interested in the activity, Daphne had been itching to step into a Hogwarts dueling pit. "It's in her blood," as her friend would say.

Though, Lily couldn't deny its importance. The opportunity to assess her classmates while learning to defend herself did have its perks.

Dueling had been an exciting addition to the Hogwarts curriculum in the 1980's. Citing the class being a core component of both Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, the Board of Governors had insisted that Hogwarts add some dueling component to Hogwarts curriculum.

That led to the revival of the house dueling teams, a first-year dueling club, and the option of adding dueling as an elective at the beginning of third year. As a result, for the last decade or so Hogwarts, and England in general, had been far more competitive in recent competitions.

"The house elves have outdone themselves." Lily thought as she glanced around the great hall. In just 90 minutes the little demons had managed to clean the hall, add about two dozen dueling pits, and set up a raised platform at the front of the room.

Daphne, who had appeared to settle down, was wearing a confident smirk on her chubby face, accentuating her high cheekbones. A few people down from her, Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott wore similar looks.

Her eyes wandered over to a mess of thick, black hair and emerald eyes talking to that exhausting muggleborn standing in the third row.

She had been surprised to find herself sharing a boat with him after getting off the Hogwarts Express. Lily had meant to join Daphne and Blaise, but they had hopped on a boat with Tracey Davis, leaving her the odd witch out.

She hadn't known what to expect from the boy who ended the dark lords reign. There were very little knowns about the Harry Potter. She certainly hadn't expected him to be so scrawny; and had tried to tease him a bit, but her comment must have hit a nerve, if his reaction was any indication.

His performance in transfiguration and defense against the dark arts had impressed her. Transfiguration was their most difficult core class, in her opinion, and he had taken to it like a fish to water. While in defense he had been one of the first to grasp the jelly legs jinx. While he wasn't particularly advanced, as far as she could tell, he picked up concepts quickly and generally worked out any issues he was having with his spells by the end of class.

She frowned at that. She still hadn't been able to get her jelly legs jinx to work.

He was garbage at potions, at least she had that on him. But at least he was smart enough to pair with Boot. Rumor was that he was garbage at herbology as well but had wisely paired up with Hannah Abbott for their term project.

Pairing up with Boot and Abbott in subjects he was average at was very slightly cunning. "Maybe there's hope for him" she thought to herself.

The first-year dueling club had, in the past, been run by Master's candidates who shad shown a proficiency for dueling; and this year was no different.

This year's teachers were pureblood Rupert Macnair, a former Slytherin studying under Professor Snape for his Masters in the Dark Arts; and Isabel Douglas, some muggleborn witch with a talent for warding.

Despite her earlier disinterest, Lily found herself interested in what they had to show them, her family and the Macnair's were old family friends, Rupert was a vicious dueler. She had no idea he was teaching.

"Good evening first years." The auburn-haired witch opened with a smile. "Welcome to first year dueling, I'm Isabel Douglas, and this", the muggleborn gestured to the handsome blonde to her left, "is my partner in crime Rupert Macnair."

Lily grimaced at the muggle reference; "why the hell do they always do that?"

The pair then began to discuss basic dueling rules.

"Each pit is 25 feet long." Rupert explained in a relaxed, charming tone.

"The pit is 12 feet wide, inside of the pit there is a ten-foot-wide circle for each dueler." Rupert seemed to be looking into her eyes; her stomach fluttered.

"The goal is to incapacitate your opponent." To Lily's displeasure, it was the witch that continued.

"You do this in one of three ways; your opponent gives up, your opponent is knocked unconscious or loses their wand, or your opponent steps out of their circle." said Douglas, wrapping up the basic rules.

The two then took their place at each end of the platform, grabbing Lily's attention.

"I guess we get to find out if the mudblood has any talent" She heard Malfoy comment from her right. She frowned at the usage of the uncouth word but agreed with the statement none the less.

She thought about Rupert's style. Lily knew that his father favored a more aggressive form, one that Rupert emulated well. He generally relied on a small group of powerful spells, choosing speed and familiarity over a more varied approach; using his quickness, and awareness to nimbly dodge spells as opposed to wasting time on shields.

The two bowed to each other, explaining that bowing was part of the rules as they did so.

Rupert opened with a basic stunner, verbalizing the spell for the benefit of the class as opposed to necessity.

Douglas responded with a protego explaining the spell as she went.

"Protego is the most basic shield spell you can cast, when cast correctly you will notice a soft blue shimmer." She gestured to her own, still intact shield. "Protego" is useful against most basic to mid-level spells, although the shields strength is powered by your magic.

The muggleborn flung a reductor back at Rupert, who dodged easily to his left.

"What Isabel just demonstrated is the reductor curse. An entry level blasting curse, that when cast properly is a dark red. As with all spells, the power of your spell is a result of your wand work, and experience with the spell."

"Instead of using a shield, I chose to dodge. You must be careful when dodging in an official duel, you don't want to step outside your circle. Successfully dodging instead of shielding saves your strength, but requires exceptional awareness, and quickness."

The two continued in that manner for the next few minutes before ending their duel without a winner, before telling them to pair off with someone in another house.

Lily frowned. She was here to partner with Daphne, not socialize play nice with others.

There was no lack of options, she knew enough people in their year, and catching up with Susan would be nice. She hadn't talked to the girl since her birthday.

But her mind wandered back to her earlier thoughts. Making a split decision, she sought out the famous Ravenclaw.

"Potter!" She yelled, probably louder than she had to. "Any chance we can pair up?"

She noticed the slight frown on Granger's face, but Potter just shrugged.

"Sure."

…

Her blue eyes watched her opponent as he threw up another " Protego." They had been practicing three of the spells mentioned during Rupert and Douglas's duel; right now, she was casting the jelly legs jinx on Potter, and he was practicing his shield charm.

Squaring her shoulders and dipping into a slight crouch she shouted "Locomotor Wibbly!" while gripping her wand firmly and making a left-to-right cut downward; Lily began to let a satisfied grin cross her face as the jinx jumped from her wand - only to see her spell absorbed by Potter's bright, light blue shield.

" Three in a row, damn him." She was starting to get frustrated; the jelly legs jinx was her best spell; but after initially catching the boy off-guard, she hadn't been able to burst through his stupid shield.

He interrupted her musings to suggest they switch it up. She gave him a quick smile and a nod.

"I'm ready!"

The words had barely left her dark-red lips when her legs turned to went to mush. She panicked briefly before reversing the spell.

"Sorry!" "Why's he apologizing? Is he nervous to be around a girl?" No, that couldn't be it, he hung out with the muggleborn. "Maybe he thinks I'm pretty?" She tried to keep the amused look off her face.

"No need to apologize! You're fast!"

"Thanks! I've been practicing!" Practicing already? Didn't take him much time to settle in.

Five minutes, and a couple pieces of advice from Harry later, and her " Protego" had made significant progress. He was a good teacher, calmly explaining how he got his own shield to work so well.

While her shield had started as a faint light blue, it was now more of a pale light blue. Marginal progress, but progress, nonetheless.

Despite Harry's tutelage, she was still unable to cast the disarming charm by the end of the session. She could feel the spell wanting to work, but had been unable to push through the barrier, a problem her partner didn't seemed to have.

As they were packing up, she acted on impulse, somewhat blurting her words out.

"I'm sorry about before… on the boat." She quickly added. "I didn't mean to upset you. I sometimes talk to myself, and after your terse response, I couldn't help giving a snarky response or my own."

She was being honest. Her mother always said mumbling to herself like a lunatic would get her in trouble one day.

The Ravenclaw contemplated her for a second, composing his thoughts, he replied.

"It's okay. I was a little rude."

She exhaled slowly, releasing a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

"Let's start over." She said with a smile, extending her hand. "I'm Lilith Moon, you can call me Lily."

He grasped her hand and returned in kind. "I'm Harry Potter, you can call me Harry."

"It's a pleasure meeting you, Harry. Would you like to work together at the next meeting?"

An even more genuine smile crossed his face as he looked her in the eyes. "Definitely thinks I'm pretty." She thought to herself as they agreed to work together next week.

The sunny weather saw most of the school taking advantage of a warm Saturday in September.

Harry was rather pleased with himself, he thought as he and Hermione ascended the bleachers of the Quidditch stadium, despite her initial protests he had managed to draw the book-obsessed Gryffindor out of the library.

" Why are we here again?"

"Because it's 21 degrees out, and we have to take a break occasionally." He responded cheerfully, ignoring the frustration evident in her voice.

"And because I've never seen people flying on a broom before. Aren't you a little curious?"

"Well…" she started with a small frown, as a grin began to grow on her face, "Watching the witches fly in the 'Wizard of Oz' was always my favorite part of the movie.

Taking a seat midway up in the Hufflepuff section, the two friends fell silent for a few minutes, observing the game above.

"The degree of difficulty in this sport is incredible." he said without looking at her.

He could hear the slight admonishment in her tone, and he frowned. In their week studying, and practicing their syllabus together after class, Harry had occasionally felt a slight tinge of annoyance with Hermione's tone.

"Just look at them." He said pointing towards the action. "They're playing a high-speed, violent game over 100 feet off the ground. It's pure chaos up there! I can't even imagine the amount of focus and body control you must have to maintain to be successful." Hermione looked unconvinced.

"Just look at the Gryffindor chasers."

The three girls were currently controlling the quaffle, using a variety of dips and turns to control their pace, weaving in-and-out seamlessly one girl threw a perfect pass to her teammate streaking down the left side of the pitch.

"That pass had to be ten meters! And that quick shimmy and shot? That keeper had no chance!" He couldn't help it, he sounded like a wonder-struck child.

"You may have a point. "She replied thoughtfully, as the Weasley twins started aiming bludgers at the combination of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw chasers attempting to work their way up the pitch.

"So." She started, quickly changing topics. "What's the most interesting thing you've seen in the magical world so far?"

"Goblins." He replied without hesitation. "They look exactly like they do in my cousin's movies, except they're meaner, if that's possible."

"They're so rude!" Hermione huffed. "Honestly, you ask them any questions and they get hostile!"

Harry agreed, Flitwick had warned him ahead of time not to ask questions, then explained Gringotts, and a little bit about Goblins.

"What about you?" He asked curiously. "Probably has something to do with books." He thought fondly to himself.

The bushy-haired girl thought for a moment; "Did you know that the library has books that will scream at you, curse you, or otherwise try and do you harm?"

He smiled again. Figures. He thought to himself.

Hermione had expanded her reading to include books that weren't on the syllabus ever since he had lent her his copy of ' Fundamental Magical Theory' earlier in the week.

"What possible reason could explain the need for a screaming or cursed book?"

"Or using a quill." Harry mused.

"Exactly!" Her laugh had almost a sarcastic tone to it, making Harry smile softly.

"Or what about pumpkin juice?" "What's wrong with literally any other drink?" he added.

Her face scrunched in disgust; "would it kill them to add some apple juice?"

They were both content to sit quietly for a while after that, and Harry allowed his attention to shift back to the pickup game in front of him.

Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff seeker, was currently going through a series of feints, Slytherins seeker was doing his best to stay on his tale.

' Diggory's better.' Harry realized. Why else would the other seeker rely on the other team to find the snitch.

Deciding to end the silence, Harry changed subjects again; "how's your Herbology project going?" He was curious, he knew that herbology wasn't Hermione's favorite subject, but like him, she had an excellent partner.

"Good! We were assigned Venomous Tentacula. Neville has been a wealth of information."

The two spent the next hour like this, barely noticing that Diggory had caught the snitch half hour prior.

The third Tuesday in September found Harry with some unexpected free time; having finished his homework he decided to spend the evening in the common room with his dorm mates.

Sitting at a round table near the fire, he joined the group in laughter as a gobstone squirted Terry Boot with a putrid liquid.

Terry was a quiet boy, with an eerie ability read body language. Potions with had shown him that much. Still, without the brunettes help, Harry doubted he would have an 'Exceeds Expectations' in potions.

"Point to me!" Oliver Rivers shouted with glee at Terry's misfortune.

It was good to be taking the night off, he thought to himself as he took his turn.

"So, Harry.." started Michael Corner, with only the slightest hesitation.

In the past few weeks, the boys in his dorm seemed to gravitate towards Corner, for some reason or another.

A brief look from Stephen Cornfoot seemed to give Corner the courage to continue.

"What's your story?"

"What do you mean what's my story?" Not entirely sure what the boy was talking about.

Corner gathered his thoughts; "I mean, after you defeated you-know-who, you kind of disappeared. Your sort of this big mystery. Where did you grow up? Why didn't we ever see you before a few weeks ago?"

It was a fair question, he supposed.

"I grew up in the muggle world with my mother's sister and her family. I didn't know about magic till I turned 11."

The group seemed to be confused by this, but it was Rivers that spoke up.

"But why. Your parents were being hunted by the dark lord, they had to have a contingency plan."

Harry had thought about that quite a bit; wasn't there anyone he could have been placed with other than the Dursleys?

He shrugged. "I don't know. I honestly don't know much about them."

Sensing the looming awkwardness, Michael jumped in, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"So, Harry. I noticed you've been spending a lot of time with Lily Moon lately, looking to grab a date with a mysterious Slytherin girl?"

He thought about the black-haired girl. He had initially been hesitant to partner with her at that first dueling club meeting. He didn't necessarily want to ditch Hermione, and after their frosty first encounter, he wasn't sure he wanted to partner with her. But she had asked him, and that feeling of someone wanting to partner with him convinced Harry to give it a shot.

Lily had talent, he quickly realized. Her jelly leg jinx was exceptional, and it took everything he had had to guard against her spells.

He had been nervous that he may have hurt her with his first jelly leg jinx, but a kind smile from the Slytherin girl nixed those thoughts.

They had spent the last couple meetings practicing together, in return she had started sitting with him in astronomy, pointing out things he missed and explaining some of the more complicated concepts.

It was a good partnership.

He idly noticed a strange expression on Goldstein's face at Corner's comment. Foregoing his usual sneer; the boy, he realized, was jealous.

Opting for a quick shrug; "Lily's my friend. I help her in dueling, she makes sure I pass astronomy."

"What's she like?" the soft voice of Stephen Cornfoot asked.

"She's a demanding, impatient, perfectionist." The other boys laughed at his blunt proclamation.

"She's pretty quick to pick things up." The truth is, he loved teaching her, it helped him gain a better understanding of whatever they were working on.

"You keep some strange friends, mate." Corner responded sagely.

"What do you mean?" The look of confusion evident on his face.

"Well Granger and Moon? You keep diverse company. One's a muggleborn, the other as pure as fresh snow."

Harry hadn't really considered that point.

"They're both smart, and nice to be around, I don't see the issue."

It was Terry who responded, "not everyone sees it that way, Harry. Wars have been fought over blood."

Harry was running late. He had been writing an essay on the 'Incendio' charm for class and had gotten lost in the possibilities for the basic fire spell.

Exiting a portrait of 'Eupraxia Mole,' he hung a right then a quick left into the charm's classroom for his first one on one with Professor Flitwick.

He had heard from Su Li that the hour with Flitwick was a pleasant affair where he would ask you about your classes and how you liked school so far.

Despite Li's reassurances, he was nervous. Hogwarts wasn't particularly good on keeping its students up to date on their overall grades, and, unless you were keeping track of your score manually,, you had no idea where you stood. The situation had frustrated Hermione so much, the two were now searching ways to charm a piece of parchment to keep track of their class scores.

Filius Flitwick greeted Harry with a warm smile, light from the fire illuminating his face in the dimly lit room.

"Mr. Potter! Right on time! How's your essay coming?" The charms professors voice seemed to increase an octave as he welcomed him.

"I was just finishing it, sir." "The charm is so useful."

"Yes, the incendio charm is a very basic introduction to a particularly difficult branch of magic." The professor lectured. "More advanced fire spells can be very temperamental, and difficult to control."

Harry filed that information away for later.

"How do you like my class Mr. Potter." "And be honest. You wouldn't be the first Ravenclaw not to like charms." He said with a soft smile.

"I love it. There are so many useful every-day charms. They make life so much easier; and the spells from the syllabus are useful, and tiring."

"What's the most advanced charm you can perform, Harry?" the part goblin asked with a look of curiosity.

Harry thought about it briefly, and pulled out his wand; with a swish, a flick, and a jab he clearly said "Wingardium Leviosa!" levitating a quill on his desk a few centimeters off the ground.

"Very good Harry!" The professor beamed. "Concise wand work, and clear enunciation, most impressive!"

Harry smiled with pride. Encouraged by the praise he spoke up again; "sir, if you have a glass, I was able to get the 'Aquamenti' charm to work a few days ago."

Flitwick's response was to silently hand him a goblet from behind the desk.

Setting it on a table, Harry closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Visualizing water shooting from his wand, he opened his eyes and tried the spell with no success. He couldn't even feel a change in his magic.

"Your wand work was good." Flitwick mused. "So was your incantation."

Instinctively knowing the next question, Harry walked him through his visualization process.

"Well there's your problem, Harry! When performing the spell, you need to think about the goblet filling with water, you need to ask yourself 'what do I intend for this spell to do.' In this case it's filling this goblet full of water. Let's try it again."

It took two more attempts, but Harry was able to produce a weak stream of water.

Motioning for him to sit, Flitwick continued.

"Your work in charms class has been impressive. By the end of the year, I'd like you to try and get through most of the first term work for next year. If you can maintain that pace, then at the end of your second year we can discuss putting you on the advanced syllabus. After talking to Minerva and Quirinus asked me to pass along similar messages."

Harry was surprised. He hadn't realized that working with Hermione and Lily had put him so far ahead.

"I see you're doing well in your other classes as well, nothing below an Exceeds Expectations."

He smiled again; between Terry and Lily's help, and being paired with Hannah in herbology, he had been able stay near the top of his years… at least he thought.

The conversation went on pleasantly for another few minutes before Harry gets around to asking him about how he could increase his magical strength enough to get placed on the advanced syllabus.

"Well Mr. Potter, there are several ways to increase your magical strength. But for your purposes, the most useful exercise would be to come up with a list of no more than 7 spells; cast them in order of increasing difficulty, ending with that aquamenti charm."

Professor Flitwick proceeded to write down a series of directions, mixing transfiguration, charms, and defense against the dark arts spells together in increasing complexity.

"Don't worry about trying to control these spells perfectly right away, if you are able to, great, but focus on making them work first, then work on your control. Once you can perform the spells with little effort, work on your casting speed. Push yourself until you get tired." He stated, before adding; "do it as often as you can, and I can evaluate your progress at our next meeting."

With that Harry started heading towards the door, before remembering that Hermione wanted to research his special ability.

Turning around he called out; "sir" the charms professor, halfway through his own door, turned around, "do you know anything about magical gifts?"

Harry was running late. He had been writing an essay on the 'Incendio' charm for class and had gotten lost in the possibilities for the basic fire spell.

Exiting a portrait of 'Eupraxia Mole,' he hung a right then a quick left into the charm's classroom for his first one on one with Professor Flitwick.

He had heard from Su Li that the hour with Flitwick was a pleasant affair where he would ask you about your classes and how you liked school so far.

Despite Li's reassurances, he was nervous. Hogwarts wasn't particularly good on keeping its students up to date on their overall grades, and, unless you were keeping track of your score manually, you had no idea where you stood. The situation had frustrated Hermione so much, the two were now searching for ways to charm a piece of parchment to keep track of their class scores.

Filius Flitwick greeted Harry with a warm smile, light from the fire illuminating his face in the dimly lit room.

"Mr. Potter! Right on time! How's your essay coming?" The charms professors voice seemed to increase an octave as he welcomed him.

"I was just finishing it, sir." "The charm is so useful."

"Yes, the incendio charm is a very basic introduction to a particularly difficult branch of magic." The professor lectured. "More advanced fire spells can be very temperamental, and difficult to control."

Harry filed that information away for later.

"How do you like my class Mr. Potter.? And be honest. You wouldn't be the first Ravenclaw to not like charms." He said with a soft smile.

"I love it. There are so many useful every-day charms. They make life so much easier; and the spells from the syllabus are useful, and tiring."

Flitwick seemed enthused by his answer, and he smiled, a sad smile; "your mother used to sound just like you when she talked about charms. I desperately wanted her to pursue a Master's in charms, but she got pregnant with you and went into hiding soon after." The professor seemed absolutely devastated by this.

"I've been teaching here for twenty-five years, Harry. And I'd be hard-pressed to find a student I enjoyed more than Lily Evans."

"I - I didn't know, you knew my mother… sir." He hadn't learned much about his parents, outside that he had his father's looks with his mother's emerald, green eyes.

"Oh yes. Charming, brilliant, vivacious, and fiercely loyal. Lily Evans made an impression on everyone she met."

Switching topics, the part goblin asked suddenly; "what's the most advanced charm you can perform, Harry?"

Harry thought about it briefly, and pulled out his wand; with a swish, a flick, and a jab he clearly said "Wingardium Leviosa!" levitating a quill on his desk a few centimeters off the ground.

"Very good Harry!" The professor beamed. "Concise wand work, and clear enunciation - most impressive!"

Harry smiled with pride. Encouraged by the praise he spoke up again; "sir, if you have a glass, I was able to get the 'Aquamenti' charm to work a few days ago."

Flitwick's response was to silently hand him a goblet from behind the desk.

Setting it on a table, Harry closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Visualizing water shooting from his wand, he opened his eyes and tried the spell with no success. He couldn't even feel a change in his magic.

"Your wand work was good." Flitwick mused. "So was your incantation."

Instinctively knowing the next question, Harry walked him through his visualization process.

"Well, there's your problem, Harry! When performing the spell, you need to think about the goblet filling with water, you need to ask yourself 'what do I intend for this spell to do.' In this case it's filling this goblet full of water. Let's try it again."

It took two more attempts, but Harry was able to produce a weak stream of water.

Motioning for him to sit, Flitwick continued.

"Your work in charms class has been impressive. By the end of the year, I'd like you to try and get through most of the first term work for next year's charms class. If you can maintain that pace, then at the end of your second year we can discuss putting you on the advanced syllabus. After talking to Minerva and Quirinus, they have asked me to pass along similar messages."

Harry was surprised. He hadn't realized that working with Hermione and Lily had put him so far ahead.

"I see you're doing well in your other classes as well, nothing below an Exceeds Expectations."

He smiled again; between Terry and Lily's help, and being paired with Hannah in herbology, he had been able stay near the top of his year… at least he thought.

The conversation went on pleasantly for another few minutes before Harry got around to asking him about how he could increase his magical strength enough to get placed on the advanced syllabus.

"Well Mr. Potter, there are several ways to increase the potency of your spells. But for your purposes, the most useful exercise would be to come up with a list of no more than 7 spells; cast them in order of increasing difficulty, ending with that aquamenti charm."

Professor Flitwick proceeded to write down a series of directions, mixing transfiguration, charms, and defense against the dark arts spells together in increasing complexity.

"Don't worry about trying to control them perfectly right away, if you are able to, that's wonderful, but focus on making them work first, then turn your attention towards control. Once you can perform the spells with little effort, work on your casting speed. Push yourself until you get tired." He stated, before adding; "do it as often as you can, and I can evaluate your progress at our next meeting."

With that Harry started heading towards the door, before remembering that Hermione wanted to research his special ability.

Turning around he called out; "sir" the charms professor, halfway through his own door, turned around, "do you know anything about magical gifts?"

Harry tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for Hermione to arrive at their table in the library. It wasn't like her to be late, even if it was only five minutes.

"Sorry! I got caught up talking to Lisa Turpin about Acromantula's, did you finish your essay for Quirrell yet?" Hermione exclaimed as she arrived at the table a few minutes later.

He idly wondered how she managed to get that all out without taking a breath.

"I finished it during lunch." He replied. "But I have an update on my little ability!"

She gave a confused look for a moment before a look of understanding came across her round face.

"Really! What'd you learn?"

"Professor Flitwick recommended I look up someone called "Claude Delacour" and " Gifts from Magic" by Rasmus Nott. I was thinking I'll take the Delacour guy while you check out that Nott person."

Claude Delacour, as it turned out, had dedicated his life to studying how specific skill sets passed through families. Flipping to an introductory on "magical gifts," he began to read.

" A common misconception regarding so-called 'magical gifts' is that they only appear in pureblood families. A more accurate statement would be that these abilities, with rare exception, only appear in children born from two magical parents. While blood purists publicly dispute this claim, privately many families use 'loopholes' to maintain as pure as possible. Many of the more 'traditional' families will quietly introduce a promising halfblood, muggleborn, or sub-human to their lines every couple of generations. In doing this they minimize the amount of time that their families have 'less than pure' blood,' while maximizing their chance of introducing a new talent to their lines."

So, there was a kernel of truth to Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott's rhetoric.

" The most common magical gift is animagi, while more uncommon abilities include metamorphagi, empaths, and parselmouths…"

Harry continued reading for another half hour before a squeal from Hermione caught his attention.

"Harry, I think I found it!" The girl babbled in excitement. "You're a parselmouth!"

He recognized the term from the book he was reading, but the French wizard's book was more a general overview of gifts in general, without going into detail about any.

"What's that mean?"

"It means you can talk to snakes! It's rare ."She replied before continuing. "It doesn't really have the best reputation- Salazar Slytherin and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were the two most famous parselmouths, and they both went crazy in the end." She ended with a slight frown, handing him the book.

" The ability to talk to snakes holds a certain stigma in our history. The gift has long been feared by those with less-open minds. Cowards point to the three most famous, modern examples of parselmouths - Salazar Slytherin, Herpo the Foul, and the Dark Lord Voldemort - and associate the ability with evil. The secretive nature of those with the ability means we don't have a clear understanding of parselmouths. However, the more educated members of society correctly point to the serpent historically representing healing in many cultures, leading many to speculate on the healing potential of parselmouths."

Rereading the passage for a third time, Harry frowned, not even wanting to contemplate the mess he would be in if this ability became public knowledge.

"I found a spell to summon a snake." Hermione quietly said from behind a book. "Do you want to go try it out?"

' Serpensortia!" Harry bellowed.

Immediately a small garter snake flew out his wand.

" What do you want!" The serpent hissed menacingly.

Slightly taken aback, he subconsciously heard himself hiss in reply. " Sorry to disturb you, I just wanted to try something."

" Well put me back!" was the snakes curt reply, before he cancelled the spell.

"What did he say?" He was pleased to see Hermione was more interested than scared.

"He just wanted to know why he was summoned. Then asked to be put back. I told him I just wanted to try something."

She thought for a moment; "what are you going to do?" she asked.

He sighed; "probably nothing. It doesn't seem to be particularly useful, but I would like to keep it quiet, I don't need to draw that kind of attention."

She nodded. "As long as we're here, would you mind helping me with transfiguration?"

The weather was stifling she thought to herself in disgust. Between the heat and humidity, Bellatrix Lestrange couldn't understand why anyone would live in this cesspool.

She had taken a portkey from her small villa in Nesebar with beautiful views of the Black Sea, not for the first time she mentally thanked her grandfather for willing her the property, to the middle of the bloody Amazon earlier that morning. Before making the frustrating trek into the lair of the world's most notorious necromancer.

Getting to Marcel DuPont's isolated hellhole east of Cochabamba had taken way too much effort and had darkened her already dour mood; it didn't help that the frustrating man had sent one of his disciples to fetch her at the door.

" Bellatrix Lestrange." The man greeted her with a curt bow.

Schooling her emotions with occlumency, 'it wouldn't be due to lose your temper now, Bellatrix.'

" Marcel DuPont, thank you for having me."

She stealthily took in her surroundings; they were seated in a fenced in room overlooking the rainforest. A disgusting bug the size of her forearm chose that moment to crash into the wards, dying instantly. She couldn't keep the disgust off her face.

" I was surprised to receive your missive." The pale, overweight man replied.

Soul magic was one of the only branches of magic that took a physical toll on the users' appearance, blood magic was another. The older wizard had dabbled in enough of both over the years to have a very noticeable effect, his sickly appearance reminded her of her Lord's. She idly wondered if DuPont had gone to the same extremes.

" And I was surprised you wanted to meet in Bolivia."

Giving no physical reaction, the necromancer replied.

" There is no government here." He stated as though she was an imbecile. "I am left alone to work in peace."

That much was true enough. This part of South America lacked any formal government, the heathens operated primarily in tribes. It was no wonder half the continent was living in the dark ages; still, the lack of formal government meant the ICW had no authority, and she could see the appeal in that.

" I've heard some interesting stories about you, Bellatrix Lestrange. Tell me, how did you escape?" His tone was soft, but deadly. She could recognize the challenge in his tone.

" I prepare better than my colleagues. I don't leave anything to chance." She replied; equally calm, equally deadly.

" What of my old friend Ophelia? I had heard you killed her?"

" She found out something she shouldn't have." She dismissed. "She left me no choice."

Marcel frowned but didn't press the issue.

" I've heard Gringotts has frozen your accounts, but I can't imagine you came all this way for gold."

That was true. While she couldn't access her vaults, Narcissa provided her with enough gold to live off.

" No, I didn't."

Suddenly serious, DuPont pushed his drink aside and leaned across the table. She didn't flinch, Marcel DuPont was nothing compared to her Lord.

" Then why are you here, Bellatrix Lestrange?" The older man snarled.

" My associates and I could benefit from your particular skill-set." She replied, happily getting to the point.

" We need help controlling a large group of inferi that are linked to another signature."

" Is it safe to assume they are connected to the Dark Lord?" the French wizard stated more than asked.

" Yes."

" And why would I help your Dark Lord?"

A devious smile came across her full lips; "Lucius has worked hard to change the political climate in France."

For the first time that night, Marcel DuPont smiled.

" And where are your Dark Lords inferi?"

Now it was her turn to smile.

" Azkaban."

His first experience with inter-house competition was exciting.

That afternoon Harry had sat in the Gryffindor section with Hermione to watch the Lions take on the Badgers in the first quidditch match of the year.

Prior to the match they had cast warming charms on themselves, while Harry a applied basic sticking charm to his glasses to protect him from the harsh elements; something Hermione had noted, the players had too due without.

Hufflepuff ended up blowing Godric's house out, 210-60. The score had been deceptive, Harry felt; Oliver Wood had been outstanding defending the hoops, and the Weasley twins had been equally brilliant in their aim and execution. But none of that made up for the fact that neither Katie Bell, a second-year chaser; nor Cormac Mclaggen, the team's new seeker, had ever played a game before.

That evening, after dinner, the school concluded the double header with a dueling tournament.

"Honestly, Neville. You just need to practice more! Use part of your allowance on extra potions ingredients and I can help you!"

The pudgy black-haired boy wore a look of mock horror; "and give up Sugar Quills! Are you mad?"

"I'm with Neville on this one, Hermione; have you ever tried a Chocolate Frog?" He shared a look with Neville, they'd got her wound up.

"You two are insufferable!" She pouted as they entered the dueling hall.

The hall itself had four dueling pits, each with a set of bleachers. After checking the schedule to see where the sixth and seventh years would be dueling, the trio headed to the largest section of bleachers, sitting as close to the safety wards as possible.

"Come off it Hermione. He's paired with you! I'm sure Neville will learn by watching you!"

"I am more of a visual learner, Hermione." Neville quipped with an amused look.

"Well, what happens when I can't be your partner anymore, Neville? We're in potions until at least fifth year."

"Quite trying to dampen the mood, Hermione! I'll worry about that day when it comes!"

Even Hermione got a laugh at this.

A few rows down, Harry noticed Lily talking to a dark-skinned boy he recognized as Blaise Zabini.

Almost as if she knew he was watching, she caught his eye, offering a warm smile before returning to her conversation. Before turning his attention back to his group, he could have sworn he saw the Italian Boy and Lily glance at him quickly.

"So," he heard Hermione start, "how does this work?" Hermione had only attended the first dueling club, determining she had better things to do.

Before Harry could begin to answer, Neville, surprisingly, chirped up.

"Have you read anything about dueling tournaments?" The budding herbologist asked.

"Not really." Hermione's face had reddened slightly at the admission.

"Dueling on a professional or international level is a purely individual sport. A win is a win, the rules are simple; don't kill your opponent." Neville seemed excited as he explained the sport with gusto.

' I never would have imagined that the kid who was pants with a wand would be so excited by dueling. Maybe he's jealous?'

"Hogwarts follows the international school standards for dueling." Neville pushed through quickly, cutting off her inevitable torrent of questions.

"Those standards call for the student body to create four distinct teams. Each team must have at least one representative from second year on up, but each team can roster up to three."

Hermione seemed a little more interested; "but why would a team ever roster only one representative?"

"Because unlike a professional duel, a victory is worth 10 points; both to the individual and the team. But a loss is ten points against both you and your house. Take Hufflepuff, for example; they only have one seventh year representative, she's brilliant, but they're basically conceding that they have nobody else good enough to compete against the other houses," Neville added, "although I heard Diggory is pretty good."

"So, there is a bit of strategy then." Hermione nodded her head in acknowledgement.

"Yep, there's three tournaments throughout the year, each duelist competes in three duels per tournament, and they must fight every-other duelist at least once throughout the year. Then the individual champion from each year represents their school at the European Championships this summer, I think it's at Durmstrang this year."

' I didn't know that.'

"Neville how do you know so much about dueling?

The pudgy boy shrugged. "My dad was European Champion his sixth year. Growing up my gran would take me to all these tournaments and I sorta fell in love with it."

"Not quidditch?" Hermione asked.

"Gran says quidditch is for pussies."

The final duel of the evening saw most of the school, including the staff in attendance.

Head Boy, and fellow Ravenclaw, Marcus Belby was taking on defending Hogwarts champion, seventh year Nymphadora Tonks.

The Ravenclaw and the Hufflepuff offered each other a quick bow before settling in, waiting for the go-ahead to begin.

"Look at Belby's stance!" He heard Goldstein say from somewhere to his left; " very nicely balanced; the Puff doesn't have a chance!"

Goldstein fancied himself a dueling prodigy; 'maybe I should try out for the team next year," he mused, 'knock him down a peg or two.'

"You're not thinking clearly, Anthony." Ernie Macmillan replied.

"Look at her stance, look at her record! Your boy is outmatched!"

Harry couldn't help but agree with Ernie. The athletic brunette was in a low crouch, minimizing herself as a target, toes pointed forward as she bounced on the balls of her feet with her wand pointed forward, ready to strike. Nymphadora Tonks looked dangerous.

"Doesn't her stance look familiar to anyone else?"

"Lots of people emulate that stance, Goldstein." He heard Daphne Greengrass reply, venom in her voice, "doesn't mean we're all her." The girl spat.

"Of course, you would say that Greengrass." His roommate sneered back.

But before the pureblood witch could respond, the horn had buzzed, announcing the start of the duel.

Almost immediately the Hufflepuff witch lunged forward from the back of her circle, silently sending a volley of stunners and reductors at Belby.

" Contego" he heard the boy say, conjuring a bright silver shield.

' Contego' Harry wrote down in his notebook, reminding himself to look up the spell later.

Dropping the Head Boy lunged forward to attack, sending a half-dozen daggers at his opponent, immediately following those up with a trio of stunners.

Briefly leaving her crouch to banish the arrows, she dodged the stunners with ease, conjuring a small black bear and directing it at Belby, who decapitated the bear with ease, only to be hit with a dark purple spell in his left shoulder.

"I bet you recognize that spell, Greengrass. Pretty cruel for a friendly duel."

A slight frown appeared on her chubby face as she rolled her eyes; "this isn't a friendly duel, Goldsmith. It's a competition, that spell is perfectly legal."

Harry smirked at the slight as Belby took care of whatever he had been hit with and had directed a swarm of bees and half dozen sickly yellow spells.

"Belby's getting tired." He heard Neville state, his eyes never leaving the duel. "He's using his finishers."

After taking care of the bees with a burst of fire, the dangerous looking badger chose to shield for the first time since the duel began, producing a familiar bright silver shield, although he absentmindedly noticed Tonks did so silently.

The spells reverberated throughout the hall as they crashed into her shield.

Crouching back into her aggressive stance, Tonks sent an aggressive spell at the tired and injured Ravenclaw, bursting through his shields and knocking him out of the dueler's circle, Tonks was declared the winner.

The weather had been surprisingly nice for October, prior to that morning. Wet snow mixing with the soft dirt had created a muddy path back towards the castle.

Harry was leaving herbology a little early; having got a pass from Madam Pomfrey to visit the medical wing that afternoon.

His progress in herbology had been progressing nicely.

Hannah Abbott had proven to be quite a contrast to Lily Moon when it came to teaching styles. Where the later was demanding, peppering Harry with astronomy questions throughout class and demanding perfect answers. The former was calm and patient, taking time to explain the importance of each step in potting their devil's snare.

The waiting room in the medical wing was..comfortable, if not a bit crowded; Harry decided.

Several comfortable chairs lined the walls of the rectangular room, and a variety of moving pictures adorned an assortment of magazines next to the nurse's desk.

He noticed a familiar shade of blonde hair in a corner and was surprised to see the normally confident Slytherin with a look of worry on her face.

' I wonder what's wrong with her?'

On a whim he decided to take a seat across from the Gryffindor beaters in front of him.

' A month ago, I wouldn't have done this.' He thought. 'It's funny how much you can change in such a short period of time.'

"What's wrong with him?" Harry asked, pointing his thumb at the twin who had somehow managed to grow skin over his mouth.

Mischief danced in the other twins' eyes; "experiment gone wrong. My brother can't control his spells."

The other twin was gesturing wildly at them, poorly trying to convey some message to him.

"I'm Harry Potter."

"Fred Weasley," the twin who could talk, replied, "and that idiot is George."

George stood up at the introduction, stumbling as he took the deepest bow Harry had even seen. Causing him to laugh as Fred rolled his eyes.

"So, what were you trying to do?" He asked.

"We were trying to create a replica of this thing we found." The lanky Gryffindor answered evasively.

The twins were entertaining.

Harry thought to himself as Healer Adams lead him into an examination room a quarter hour later.

Even if one of them couldn't talk.

It was the last Tuesday in October and Harry and Hermione had found themselves in a familiar unused classroom.

The two had fallen into an unspoken routine. Before dinner they would practice practical magic in their classroom for an hour, separate for dinner, then do their homework together in the library.

"I just can't get the spell to work, Potter! I'm following your instructions, and can feel it wanting to work, I'm just not there yet."

"Aquamenti is a difficult spell, Hermione. We don't learn it for a while, you have plenty of time."

"But you can do it!" He admired her competitiveness. Although neither would admit it, they both wanted to be better than the other. Her competitiveness pushed him to be better.

"I also practice the practical side of things more than you, Hermione." He repeated for what he felt was the thousandth time.

She bit her lip in contemplation; "you said Flitwick gave you some sort of spell routine? Could you teach me?"

Harry was happy to oblige. At his second meeting with his head of house, he had impressed the charms professor with his progress, and had added three spells to his list - bringing his total to ten.

"The first thing you need to do is write down a list of seven spells," he began to explain, "they should be performed in order from easiest to most difficult. The first spell or two should be something from the syllabus that you should be pretty confident with, the next handful should be spells or transfigurations that you are less confident, then end with a spell you really confident."

To help her confidence, Harry added; "last month when I first started my last spell aquamenti."

"What is it now?"

"The stunner." He smirked proudly; the prior day Flitwick had added 'bombarda,' the reductor curse, and 'stupefy' to his list. And although he hadn't been able to cast the last two, the confidence his professor had shown in his abilities was inspiring.

"Has it had any noticeable affect?"

Harry shook his head enthusiastically; "Absolutely. I've been a lot less tired after class.

"Show me." Hermione demanded.

He was getting fast, he thought to himself as he completed the 8 spells he could get through in a little over 90 seconds.

An hour later Harry's stomach growled as Hermione successfully completed the disarming charm, the fifth spell on his original list.

' Tempus'

"Ughh." He groaned. "Guess we're not getting dinner."

Hermione stared at him with a thoughtful look on her face; "not necessarily."

"So how do you know where the kitchens are?" Harry asked as they made their way down a hallway lined with portraits of food.

"The Weasley twins." Was her quick response. She quickly turned red; "I had gotten into the habit of studying through lunch on Tuesdays and Thursdays, my free period is before lunch and sometimes I get lost in my work."

That still didn't explain the Weasley connection, but he let her continue.

"I didn't want to make a choice between lunch and studying, so I thought I'd try and find the kitchens. It was obvious to ask the Weasley twins."

"Whys that?" He answered, thinking of the pair of gingers he had met the other day.

"Well, their older brother is a fifth-year prefect," admiration was apparent in his friends voice, "and he warned all the first years about Fred and George. Apparently they know every secret of Hogwarts and like to prank people. When I remembered that, I thought 'who better to ask?'"

He couldn't fault that logic, he thought as they stopped in front of a portrait of a large bowl of fruit.

"Tickle the pear, Harry."

' What an absurd direction.' He thought to himself as he humored the girl, tickling the fruit softly.

To his surprise, the pear laughed, revealing a doorknob.

' Amazing.'

Stepping through the doorway, Harry was met with a jarring seen. Hundreds of wrinkly, green creatures scurried wildly about the largest kitchen he had even seen.

"Can Tinky be helping Misses Grangy?" one of the tiny creatures asked the girl.

Hermione, for her part, looked slightly uncomfortable before crouching down to look the tiny demon in the eye. "Table and dinner for two please Tinky."

The green thing grabbed Hermione's hand, dragging her to a table in the corner.

"House Elves." Hermione frowned. "Their magic is tied to serving others. They run most wizarding households, including Hogwarts."

Five minutes later they were both eating beef stew, in a comfortable silence.

"Do you ever think about what you want to accomplish?" He asked Hermione softly.

She thought for a long moment before responding; "I used to want to a doctor, or an engineer. But I don't know anymore, this place is so different. I haven't felt comfortable enough to plan for the future yet."

"What about you?" Curiosity in her voice.

"I don't know what I want to do, " he responded, "I know who I want to be. All my life I had been an afterthought, all I wanted was a little bit of recognition. Then I come here, and I'm known for a fluke.

I want to earn be recognition, I want to be somebody." There was no doubt Hermione could hear the determination in his voice.

"So, we're going to be on the advanced syllabus together, right?"

"Absolutely!" He laughed. "Who else would challenge you if I weren't there?"

The two were wrapping up their dinner, and Hermione had been quiet for several minutes, something obviously on her mind.

Finally, she seemed to work up her nerve; "Harry, I know you're not going home for the holidays," she was nervous, looking anywhere but at him, "well I wrote to my parents, and they would be happy if you stayed with us… if you want."

He was so happy he nearly cried; he had never celebrated Christmas before.

"I'd love to." The two smiled at each other, each heading towards their separate common rooms.

"Oh, come off it Stephen!" Corner cried out. "There's nothing there!"

Harry laughed. Ever since they're initial gobstones game in September, he had taken to spending more time in the common room with his roommates, even he and Goldstein had fallen into a quiet truce.

"I don't know, Corner, you didn't see her face when you fell off your broom." Harry teased, she looked like her puppy had just died.

"And afterwards!" Oliver Rivers joined in. " Oh Michael, are you okay?" River's voice got unusually high in a poor imitation of Megan Jones.

"Just admit it mate, you're going to marry her." Terry added from the back, igniting Michaels's cheeks.

As Harry took his normal seat next to Terry in Defense Against the Dark Arts, he saw Malfoy give him a small smirk.

' What's that about?' He frowned. It wasn't the first time he had caught the white-haired boy smirking at him, and he couldn't understand why. It's not like he had ever talked to the boy.

He rubbed his forehead out of habit as Professor Quirrell began his lecture, he always had a headache this time of day.

Shifting his focus back to the professor's lecture, he began to jot down some interesting notes.

"By far the most dangerous creature you will find in the Forbidden Forest is the Acromantula.." The professor stuttered.

The class was finishing up their month on creatures they could encounter in the forest backing up to the Great Lake.

This year's DADA curriculum was divided into nine sections, one topic a month with a test at the end. September was spent studying basic hexes and curses, while November would be spent studying cursed objects - October they had spent studying the many dangerous creatures found in the forbidden forest.

Regardless of his slight stutter, and slightly monotone voice, Professor Quirrell was a pretty good teacher, he thought to himself. He was even more demanding than Lily, and certainly knew his subject.

Despite the headache, Harry found himself enjoying the class.

He hated Halloween.

Growing up with the Dursleys he had never been allowed to participate in the annual festivities; forced to watch his cousin stuff his face with candy he had stolen from the smaller children who were unfortunate enough to cross his path.

The Dursleys, had made the holiday unpleasant.

It hadn't been till he was told the significance Halloween had on his life that he understood that Halloween was the cause of his misery.

His conversations with Professor Flitwick about his parents had stirred a feeling within him that he had never felt - longing for his parents. The charms professor dazzled him with stories about his mother's wit, and his father's ability to make people laugh, happily showing him pictures of a young James and Lily Potter.

Harry had wondered out loud about possible godparents; to his dismay, he received only a peculiar look, and a quick change of topic. Assuming the worst, he had decided to let it die, for the moment.

Harry looked around the charms classroom with a bored expression plastered to his face. He had mastered the first-year syllabus a week ago, and the class was just learning how to levitate a feather.

To his amusement, Hermione had taken it upon herself to try and help a struggling Ron Weasley and Dean Thomas. Neither seemed very receptive of her help.

"Come off it, Hermione." Lavender Brown proclaimed, rolling her eyes. "They didn't do the reading; they don't know what they're doing."

Turning back to his desk, he began levitating his book a few centimeters off the ground, holding it for as long as he can before releasing the charm and trying again.

"Very good, Mr. Potter! 5 points to Ravenclaw for such exceptional control of the levitation charm!"

Harry smiled in appreciation as the bell rang.

Harry saw the last of Hermione's disappearing bookbag running around the corner as he exited the charms classroom.

"What happened?" He asked the group of first year Gryffindor girls.

"Ron and Dean mocked Hermione after she tried to help her, they told her it was no wonder she didn't have any friends."

Anger. That was the first emotion that crossed his mind as he sent a look of pure loathing towards the boys. He wanted to hurt them, hurt them like they had hurt her. Resisting the urge to curse them on the spot ' no need to deal with them right now', he took off in Hermione's direction.

Hanging a left he saw a group of girls he vaguely recognized as the Gryffindor chasers.

"Have you seen Hermione Granger?" He sputtered.

"She ran towards the bathroom." A short witch answered, pointing towards the dungeons.

He was running so fast he ran past the bathroom before steering his emotions; ' she doesn't need me to be angry.'

Taking a deep breath, Harry entered the girl's bathroom to the sound of soft sobs coming from the farthest stall.

"Hermione." He called out tentatively.

"Go away, Harry."

"Come on Hermione, I'm your friend. Ron and Dean are jealous tossers, you know that!"

"No, they're right," she cried, exiting the stall unshed tears in her eyes, "I'm a bloody know-it-all! Nobody likes a know-it-all!"

"I do." Was his quiet response. "I like the way you push me; I like that I have a friend to talk advanced magic with, I like being your friend."

Seeming to calm down a bit, Hermione slid her back down the stone wall, stretching her legs out in defeat.

Joining her on the ground; Hermione was looking across the room at the bathroom door. With a slight tremble in her voice, she began to speak softly.

"When I was seven, my parents signed me up for dance at a local studio," seemingly overcoming some personal demons, she took a breath and continued, "I was never interested in dance, but they were worried that I lacked social skills, and thought dance would be a great way for me to make friends."

Harry was looking at her, absorbing her words.

"It turns out I'm terrible at dance. I lack the coordination to be naturally good like some girls, and I lacked the determination to improve. The girls in the class used trip me, hide my shoes, and mock me every class. At first, I really wanted to be their friend, so I did what I always do, and read a book on dance.

One day one of the better girls in the class saw my book and stole it from my bag. They played keep away with it for a while as they called me all sorts of mean names, eventually making me dig through the dumpster outside to retrieve the library book. I cried for two days after that."

Harry was fighting back tears at this point, searching for anything that could make her feel better.

"Growing up I didn't know who I was. My aunt and uncle treated me like scum," he wasn't telling her anything she hadn't heard, yet "they spent the better part of ten years alternating between neglecting me, publicly humiliating me, and verbally abusing me - calling me freak and treating me like a house-elf."

Hermione was looking at him softly now.

"They never hit me," he said, answering her unanswered question, "but they never prevented Dudley from hurting me either."

He hadn't been aware that he had been pacing the bathroom till he saw Hermione moving towards him slowly.

The next thing he knew, they were in a firm embrace.

"Harr-" her response was cut off by the sound of the bathroom door flying off its hinges. Hermione screamed, and before he had a chance to turn around, Hermione was being held by a massive green fist.

Facing the creature for the first time, he immediately recognized the gigantic warts and sallow green skin.

" What is a Mountain Troll doing in Hogwarts?"

Thinking back to their previous DADA lesson on trolls, he was more than a little scared, the skin of a troll was magic resistant - to a point.

He avoided the troll's foot as it tried to stomp him to death, quickly casting every spell he knew at the murderous beast to no avail.

Taking a deep breath, and throwing all his emotion behind his spell, Harry yelled out " stupefy!" A bright blue light jumped out of his wand smacking the troll right on the cheek.

More annoyed than bothered, the green monster dropped Hermione on the ground with a loud thud.

He stared in horror as Hermione was barely moving on the ground in front of him.

In his distraction, he didn't see the troll's hand as he backhanded him in the ribs, knocking his wand away in the process.

Spitting up blood Harry reached for his wand, from the ground launching a series of gurgled stinging hexes.

No longer facing a slowly recovering Hermione, the troll's attention was focused entirely on him. Rolling out of the way as the beast tried in vain to stomp him to death, Hermione was back on her feet casting spells, causing the troll to focus on her again.

"No Hermione" he tried to yell, but his mouth was too full of blood to get the words out.

With his long arms, the cruel creature batted Hermione against the stone wall with a sickening crunch as her head caved in, leaving a trail of blood and gore on the wall.

He vaguely heard spell-fire coming from behind him, with tears streaming down his face, the last thought Harry had was.

My friend is dead.