Harry Potter and the Pretty Sorcerer's Balls

Ron, Harry, and Neville grinned in relief when Draco swaggered into the Great Hall the next morning and flashed them a quick thumbs up sign. Their Slytherin friends had made it back to their dorms without capture. Harry returned the sign with a wink. Indeed, by morning the three Gryffindor boys thought that meeting the three-headed dog had been an excellent adventure and - despite Neville's ghostly pale face - they were quite keen to have another one.

Harry filled Ron in on what he had seen in the corridor with the monstrous dog.

"A trapdoor?" Ron questioned, his eyes widened in understanding, "Then that's where the - you know what - might be. Must be pretty special if Dumbledore's willing to keep a monster in the castle just to protect it."

"Goodness Ron, a bandit was willing to risk robbing Gringotts for it! It could be the Queen's own jewels!"

Ron nodded and motioned for Harry to keep his voice down. That Hermione was poking her head around again and, while now refusing to talk to either of them - which pleased them both to bits - she still seemed more than willing to listen in on their conversations.

Their free time was often spent trying to guess just what the three-headed hellhound could be hiding, and once Draco mentioned that the small parcel might really be a magically shrunken larger object, trying to figure out what it was truly became an impossible task.

"I know," Harry batted his lashes, about a week later during breakfast. "I'll see about baking some gigantic doggie biscuits, you can feed them to the beast, and Draco will peek under the trapdoor!" Ron vetoed the idea immediately and they went back to their elaborate guessing game. A few moments later a much-needed distraction arrived in the post.

Everyone's attention was caught at once when a long thin package was dropped in front of Harry, sending his scones flying and leaving Ron with a dollop of cream on his nose. Ron had scarcely wiped his nose when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel.

Harry opened the letter first - and thank goodness he did, as it was a message from Professor McGonagall telling him not to open the parcel - a brand new broomstick! - at the table.

"It's my racing broom," Harry gasped. "She says I'll start my Quidditch training this evening!" Ron and Harry's eyes met, glinting dangerously. They leaped from their seats, hauling Neville up from his toast and jam (with marshmallows and bananas), caught Draco's and the brute's attention at the Slytherin table, and bolted from the Great Hall.

"What is it?" Draco snapped, out of breath once they had finally stopped in an empty classroom.

"McGonagall's sent him his Quidditch broom!" Ron exclaimed. The six boys vaulted upon the package and tore the wrapping away in less than a second.

Crabbe and Goyle grunted with awe, the other boys simply gasped and gaped. There before them, lay the most magnificent piece of flying equipment they had ever seen. Mature and experienced seemed fine for Harry's first flying lesson but new and untouched was even more appealing.

"It's so shiny!" Harry finally squealed, clapping his hands together.

"Shiny?!" said Ron, "it's better than just shiny, Harry, it's a Nimbus Two Thousand!"

Harry could hardly wait for seven o'clock to arrive and made his way to the Quidditch pitch as soon as seemed reasonable. He mounted his broomstick long before Oliver Wood appeared and spent the time dancing with his broom, high in the air until he was called to the ground.

"Very nice," said Oliver when Harry landed next to him.

Harry shimmied his shoulders, "Thank you," he cooed.

After a few minutes discussing the basics Harry's mood began to dim. He realised that, while he liked wizards, and Ron liked witches, muscly Oliver Wood - liked Quidditch. Harry was pouting by the end of their talk, perking up only at the prospect of getting back on his broom. The rest of the practice was spent in the air, with Oliver throwing golf balls as hard as he could, every which way for Harry to catch. He didn't miss a single one.

"That Quidditch cup will have our name on it this year," said Oliver as they parted ways on the way back to the castle. Oliver to return the Quidditch equipment and Harry to return to the dorms.

The halls were void of all living things - dead things too. Harry could feel the tingle of magic in the castle it was so still. He had never been on that side of the building after dinner and apparently nobody else ventured out that way so late either. His feet began to skip on their own accord while he cradled Mr Nimble in his arms like a cuddly pet. He turned a corner and found yet another completely bare hallway. The temptation was too much to bear. With a quick glance around to ensure he was still alone, he mounted Mr Nimble and began zipping his way through the halls toward Gryffindor tower. Only twice during the trip did his restraint give way, and he let out a much deserved "Yippee!"

He reached the top of the last set of stairs before the portrait hole and couldn't believe his luck. He had turned what would have been a long and terribly boring walk into a death defying thrill ride right through the castle. He looked down the top of the staircase and decided he'd take one more chance. He propped Mr Nimble against the wall and leaped up onto the banister. With an "Umph" and a push he was sliding backwards down the banister at top speed. He shrieked with glee as momentum worked its magic at the bottom of the stairs and vaulted him into the air off the slope of the banister.

WHOOMP! Harry landed, not on his feet as intended but in a strangely soft heap. He scrambled to his feet and opened his eyes as wide as could be. A sight as terrifying as the three-headed hound greeted him. Filch was climbing to his feet from his splayed out position on the floor. Deciding that flight was certainly his best course of action, Harry turned to bolt up the stairs but was snapped back by a hand clutching the neck of his robes.

"DETENTION!" Filch bellowed, his face erupting into a more than fair impression of Uncle Vernon's patented shade of purple. He shoved the detention slip in Harry's shaking hand and let go of his robes, allowing the trembling boy to flee up the stairs and through the portrait hole, barely slowing to grab Mr Nimble.

"What happened?" Ron exclaimed upon seeing Harry's blanched face. Harry handed him the slip and collapsed onto an empty sofa. "Detention with Filch for ... sliding down the Gryffindor banister?" Ron burst into laughter.

"Wicked!" Fred and George said in unison, making their way over to Harry and plopping down on either side of him.

"But how'd you get caught?" Fred asked.

"Filch doesn't normally patrol this close to the common room." George continued.

Harry blushed but grinned coyly at the boys. "I rode my broom in from Quidditch practice and I um ... made too much noise."

Ron snorted while the twins shared a knowing look.

"Ahh," George started, "Another boy who likes the broomstick -" Harry blushed again.

"- It's no wonder Oliver is so eager to have you on the team!" Fred grinned.

"Oliver -" Harry giggled, widening his eyes at the twins, "he's a bit mad, isn't he?"

Fred nodded in agreement and leaned towards him, "He's a good guy - "

George leaned in as well, "And a great captain and keeper, but - "

"Never touch his broomstick without permission - "

"He gets right jealous!" The boys laughed.

"I'm sure it's safe to touch his broom," Harry giggled, "but I think he's doing unnatural things with the Quidditch balls!"

Fred and George roared with laughter and clapped Harry's knees, Harry squealed with delight.

"Alright, enough of that," Ron interrupted, pulling Harry off the couch. Harry pouted but allowed Ron to drag him up to their dorm.

Once inside, Ron looked at Harry incredulously.

"How can you be so calm?!" he exclaimed.

"Whatever are you talking about?" Harry sulked.

"The detention Harry - they're going to send an owl to your Uncle's house."

"What?!" Harry gasped.

"Fred and George have got tons of detentions and every time they did, an owl came to tell my parents! They'll know you're here, Harry."

Harry pressed the back of his hand to his forehead and flopped down on his bed.

"What are you going to do?" Ron asked.

"Maybe ... Maybe, this isn't so bad." Harry sat up slowly. "As long as that lumpy spread of jelly knows I'm never coming back, he might just ignore the owls - or even play along." He began rummaging through his trunk until he found a quill and parchment. "I need to owl them before the Hogwarts note arrives - I'll tell the Headmaster that the Dursleys asked if they would just lick a stamp like regular people instead of sending owls." He scribbled furiously as he spoke, "By the time the Hogwarts letter arrives, Vernon will have calmed down enough to see reason."

The boys rushed to the owlery to send Harry's post off lickety split with Twinkle.

Between classes, homework, Quidditch practice, and actually having friends, Harry was shocked to realise that nearly two months had gone by since he arrived at Hogwarts. The castle had become his home, more so as he still had no idea where he would go once the summer holidays arrived.

On Hallowe'en morning Harry awoke with his nose in the air, breathing in the heavenly scent of baked goods that had consumed the corridors and influenced his dreams. The students had a delectable feast to look forward to that evening and to enhance the day's excitement, Professor Flitwick had announced that they were ready to advance past the basics in Charms and start making objects fly! Professor Flitwick instructed the class to partner up to practice. Neville latched onto Harry's hand leaving a much-dismayed Ron to work with Hermione Granger.

The charm was a difficult one. Harry and Neville practised their swish and flick wand movements till their wrists hurt but the feather they were supposed to be sending skyward refused to budge.

Ron, at the next table, wasn't having much more luck.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill.

"You're saying it wrong," Harry and Neville rolled their eyes at Hermione's snappish comments, "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."

"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled.

Hermione turned her nose into the air, flicked her wand and said, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads. Hermione turned and gave Ron a look that said 'see?' while Professor Flitwick clapped and cheered, praising her success.

Ron was in a rotten temper by the end of class. "It's no wonder no one can stand her," he said to Harry as he stormed a path through the crowded corridor. "She's a nightmare, honestly."

Harry squealed as someone pushed past, knocking right into him. It was Hermione. Harry's mood fell as he caught a glimpse of her face, she was in tears.

"Oh dear," Harry whimpered, "I think she's heard you."

"So?" Ron answered back, but he too looked uncomfortable. "She must've noticed she's got no friends."

"I think she was crying though." Harry couldn't imagine going back to not having any friends, and he knew that while it was tolerable, it was that much harder to take when you added people making fun of you to the mix. If only she wasn't so easy not to like.

Ron perked up, "If you start being nice to her and she starts mooning over you like Crabbe and Goyle ..."

"I won't be sending her any cupcakes, I can promise you that!" Harry smiled as well.

Hermione didn't turn up for their next class and wasn't seen all afternoon.

Harry broke away from Ron and Neville on their way down to the Great Hall for the Hallowe'en feast when they heard Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown mention Hermione's name.

"Hey pretty kitty's," Harry grinned. The girls grinned back and gave their friend a quick hug. They told Harry that Hermione was crying in the girl's toilets and wanted to be left alone. Harry's heart dropped at the news and he slumped back to Ron and Neville looking dejected.

"We have to apologise, Ron." Ron looked still more awkward at this pronouncement but sent Neville ahead to the Great Hall to save them seats together for the feast. Ron and Harry made their way to the girl's bathroom in silence.

Ron flushed red and planted his feet at the bathroom door, "I'm not going in there! She can come out if she wants an apology!" Harry rolled his eyes and pushed into the bathroom alone.

"Hermione?" Harry cooed, "Are you in here?" He heard a sniff from the farthest stall. "Ron and I came to apologise for being such doodie heads today - well ... Ron's apologising from the hallway because apparently real men don't enter the girl's loo." A soft muffled giggle replaced the sniffing but the stall door remained closed. "Now see here, missy," Harry sniped with a grin, "if you don't come out, I'm climbing under - and I don't care what you're doing in there!" The voice inside giggled softly again before inching a bushy head out of the stall.

"Well," Harry humphed, "you can levitate a feather on your first try but it takes you two months to manage a smile!"

"Don't be nice to me just because you feel guilty, I know you don't like me ... nobody does." She added softly.

"Honey, I'm not going to lie to you - you're not popular."

Hermione rolled her bloodshot eyes but her lip began to tremble again.

"Hush now, Hermione. I don't think it's really you that people don't like."

"What do you mean?"

"Well ... are you really a stuck up, busybody, know-all?" he sing-songed.

"I ..." Hermione blushed, "Well, I'm not stuck up!"

Harry's grin faded, "What's that smell?"

Hermione rolled her eyes again, "This is a bathroom, Harry."

Harry was shaking his head as a scream rang through the halls; the door to the loo flew open. Ron scrambled inside, locked the door and pressed his back against it, breathing hard.

"There's a troll!" he panted, "Just outside!"

"It's Hallowe'en silly," Harry giggled, "here you are screaming like a little girl and running into the girl's toilets because of the entertainment the Headmaster's lined up for the feast!"

Ron's face reddened deeper than his hair as Harry and Hermione giggled. Their giggles were cut short as the bathroom door burst inward, the lock pulling right out of the wall. Ron was thrown forward with the door, landing in a heap against the wall. A foul stench assaulted the room, and a granite grey hulking mass entered the loo. The stoop over the doorway broke away as the twelve-foot troll lumbered in, being too stupid to duck and instead just crashing through. It was holding a massive wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

Harry pushed Hermione behind him - both of them screaming like banshees - and pressed them both up against the opposite wall.

"The Great Hall - it's that way!" Harry squealed in a panic, pointing to the doorway into the hall. The troll waggled its ears as though processing the information then seemed to decide it wasn't interested. It grunted and swung its club almost casually at the wall above Ron's body, leaving the boy covered in dust and debris.

"Get away from him this instant you stinking mound of rot!" Harry yelled and rushed at the troll threatening his friend. He kicked at the troll's tree trunk legs and pounded his fists against his midsection.

Harry's onslaught seemed only to irritate the beast but it did turn its attention away from Ron. Ron climbed to his feet and, swaying just slightly, joined in on the attack on the troll. The beast continued to swing its club, forcing Harry and Ron to stop their assault in order to duck and cover. It knocked over the sinks and stall doors.

"Help us Hermione!" Harry wailed, startling the girl out of her shocked inertia.

She came to her senses and raised her wand, "Wingardium Leviosa!" she bellowed. The club rose from the troll's fist, it cocked its head to stare in confusion at the slowly levitating wooden bat. Ron and Harry backed away towards Hermione and with a quick nod to each other, they repeated Hermione's spell - Harry restraining his elaborate swish flick and Ron stressing the 'gar' - the bat rose higher and stronger with their combined spells.

Ron counted out, "One!" the others caught on, "two ... THREE!" they swung their wands downward and slammed the club over the trolls head, sending it crashing into the floor.

Harry poked the troll in the bum with his toe. "I hope this thing wasn't part of the grand finale." The three tittered nervously, out of breath and still fearful for their lives.

A sudden storm of loud footsteps made the three raise their wands again a moment later. Professor McGonagall had slid to a stop inside the room, followed closely by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll while Professor McGonagall was looking at Ron and Harry like she might pull out her wand and transfigure them both into something horrid.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" she asked, her words trembling with cold fury.

Harry had had enough. "What were we thinking of? What were you thinking of, letting this hellion run loose through the castle?" he snapped his fingers at Professor McGonagall but wasn't finished. "We could have been killed - Ron was nearly killed! Look at him, covered in - in wall!" he stamped his foot and placed his hands on his hips, readying himself to continue. The standing Professors looked shocked and livid, Quirrell merely continued to whimper from the toilet.

Hermione and Ron placed their hands on Harry's shoulders, keeping him from saying anything more.

"May we go Professor McGonagall?" Hermione asked, her hand half raised as though she were in class. "We have to clean ourselves up and we'd like to make it to the Hallowe'en feast before it's over."

Much of the anger seemed to drain out of Professor McGonagall, replaced by suspicious understanding. "The feast has been cancelled on account of the troll breaking into the castle. All students have been sent to their dormitories." Her lips pressed back into their thin line. "Now, why were you three not at the feast?"

Harry and Ron's faces flushed with embarrassment as it donned on them that they had been found inside the girl's toilet, and recalled what had brought them there in the first place. They braced themselves for the tirade that would follow when Professor McGonagall learned that they had made Hermione cry. Harry opened his mouth to fess up.

Hermione rushed ahead, "We were going down to the feast together and I had to use the washroom. The troll came by and Ron and Harry came in to hurry me up because they knew I'd want to see it - we thought it was part of the entertainment for the feast tonight so we didn't look for a teacher - but then the troll broke in and attacked us!"

Harry and Ron nodded in agreement and tried to look as though this story wasn't at all new to them.

"Well - in that case ..." said a stunned Professor McGonagall. "Not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their Houses."

They hurried out of the chamber and didn't speak at all until muttering a quick 'pig snout' at the portrait of the Fat Lady. The common room was packed and noisy, everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. The noise died down when the Gryffindors caught sight of Ron who was still nearly completely white with dust from the bathroom wall.

"What in heavens name happened to you?!" Percy's lips were pressed into a line thinner than Professor McGonagall's.

There was a very embarrassed pause between the troll-fighting trio before Harry winked at Neville and burst out with a series of half-truths about how they happened into the girl's loo.

"Uh ... Hermione ..." Ron turned to the bushy haired girl and stammered, "About this morning ... I, um ... you know ..."

Hermione acknowledged his attempt at an apology and shared a shy grin with the two boys before Ron escaped to the first year boy's dorm to wash up and change robes. When he returned, the three sat with Neville and began recounting their tale in full.

"I was trying to kick it in the groin," Harry exclaimed, "but it didn't do anything at all! Do trolls even have a proper crotch?"

Hermione choked on her pumpkin juice as she reddened and stammered.

Ron waved her incoherent reply away, "You'll get used to him," he said by way of explanation. Hermione grinned at his welcoming and accepting words. There are some things you just can't share without ending up friends, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.