Bats had been flying around the castle since morning.
I saw the first above the stairs.
It passed right in front of my face, circled a lamp and hung upside down from a portrait frame.
The wizard in the painting tried to knock it off with a newspaper.
Without success.
On the next floor, I found pumpkins, garlands and a group of students arguing over whether the bats were real.
I didn’t join in.
I knew what day it was.
Halloween.
Over the past few weeks, I’d learnt to treat Hogwarts as a school.
An extraordinary one, full of things that could still stop me in a corridor, but a school nonetheless.
I had a timetable, homework, places at tables and teachers whose moods I was beginning to recognise.
Today, something was going to happen that wasn’t on the timetable.
I adjusted my bag and went to breakfast.
***
At the Slytherin table, most of the talk concerned the evening feast.
Goyle wanted to know whether there would be the same cakes as at the start-of-term feast.
Malfoy claimed the food was better at Halloween.
He couldn’t explain how he knew, given that it was his first year too.
Apparently, he didn’t consider that a problem.
I sat beside Blaise.
“You missed something,” he said.
“What?”
“Crabbe tried to catch a bat.”
I looked at Crabbe.
“Did you have a plan beyond that?”
“I wanted to see whether it was real.”
“And?”
“It bit me.”
At least he’d found his answer.
I helped myself to eggs and reached for bread.
Harry and Ron were already at the Gryffindor table.
Hermione sat a few places further along, bent over a book.
I glanced at her automatically.
Tonight, she was supposed to stay in the bathroom.
Harry and Ron were supposed to go after her.
The troll was supposed to be knocked unconscious by its own club.
I remembered the ending much better than all the small events leading to it.
Even so, it was hard to sit at breakfast and treat that knowledge like a weather forecast.
I could tell someone about the troll.
But what exactly would I say?
That it would appear tonight because I remembered it from a book?
I looked at the staff table.
Quirrell was adjusting his turban.
I immediately returned to my plate.
I wasn’t going to find out whether he’d notice my interest again.
***
The day passed surprisingly normally.
We were given homework.
Someone spilled ink.
In one corridor, Peeves held a competition in dropping decorations on passers-by.
Twice, I forgot what I was waiting for.
Then another pumpkin reminded me.
In the afternoon, I visited the Room of Requirement, but didn’t practise the pressure.
A faint weariness still lingered around my temple from the previous evening, and I preferred not to add to it.
Instead, I went over a few spells.
Disarmed the dummy.
Knocked it to the far end of the mat.
With the shield, I again managed only a brief, uneven flash.
For a while, I stared at the spot where it had vanished.
Then I put away my wand.
I wasn’t going to learn everything before dinner simply because it would suit me.
***
The Great Hall looked exactly as a feast at a school of magic ought to look.
Pumpkins hung above the tables, candlelight reflected in goblets and bats flew beneath the dark ceiling.
Some circled so low that students instinctively covered their plates.
I sat and simply watched for a while.
Even knowing what was coming, it was hard not to enjoy the sight.
The food didn’t help me maintain a gloomy mood either.
For the first fifteen minutes or so, I was mostly occupied with deciding what else would fit on my plate.
Then I looked towards the Gryffindors.
Harry and Ron sat together.
I couldn’t see Hermione.
I looked further along, but someone stood and blocked part of the table.
I returned to my meal.
Blaise said something.
I missed it.
“What?”
“Pass the gravy?”
I pushed the dish over.
The Great Hall doors crashed open.
***
Quirrell burst in so abruptly that conversations near the entrance stopped at once.
“Troll!” he gasped.
“Troll in the dungeons!”
He took a few more steps.
For a moment, everyone stared in silence.
“Thought you ought to know…”
He collapsed onto the floor.
A scream rose from one table.
Then benches scraped back, someone dropped a goblet, and suddenly the whole hall was talking at once.
I knew this scene.
That didn’t make me put down my fork any less sharply.
Dumbledore stood.
“Silence.”
His voice carried to the far end of the hall.
The talking didn’t stop immediately, but after a few seconds, individual orders could be heard.
Prefects were to gather the students.
Nobody was to wander off.
Teachers moved towards the entrance while older students began directing us towards the doors.
Someone at our table asked why we were returning to the dungeons if that was where the troll was.
The prefect told us to wait for directions and not get ahead of the group.
I stood with everyone else.
My plate was still almost full.
For some reason, that was what I noticed.
***
It was crowded near the exit.
Robes brushed together, benches creaked, and someone behind me tried to push closer to a friend.
Blaise was a few paces ahead.
Malfoy looked back towards the fallen Quirrell.
I looked into the corridor.
And saw a thread.
It was darker and thicker than the wisps I’d grown used to.
It stretched taut above the floor, disappearing around a corner.
It didn’t resemble anything I’d watched in lessons.
My left eye stung slightly.
I blinked.
The thread remained.
Someone bumped my shoulder.
I moved so I wouldn’t block the way.
For a few paces, I stayed with Slytherin.
The prefect stopped us at a junction and exchanged a few words with an older student who’d just returned from a side corridor.
Then the group turned.
The thread led the other way.
I slowed.
I should keep going.
I knew that well enough to need no further reminder.
I only wanted to check where it went.
See whether it vanished at the next door or connected to some ward.
A few steps.
That was all I promised myself.
By the time the group’s voices faded around the corner, I was already in the side passage.
***
I felt the first impact through my feet.
A faint tremor in the stone.
Then I heard a heavy, dragging step.
I stopped.
The thread trembled.
The troll.
Of course it was the troll.
I knew what had been announced in the hall.
Even so, some exceptionally stupid part of me had apparently hoped I’d follow strange magic and find something entirely different.
A low growl came from the end of the corridor.
I gripped my wand in my pocket.
I should go back for a teacher.
I turned, trying to remember at which junction I’d last seen one.
Then I heard a scream.
Human.
I couldn’t recognise the voice, but I knew where it came from.
I looked at the stairs.
Second floor.
The bathroom.
For a moment, I stood still.
In the book, everything ended well.
Here, something struck the other side of the wall so hard that my shoulders rose instinctively.
It didn’t sound like a story that was over.
I started up the stairs.
***
The door was ajar.
Before I even reached it, the stench hit me.
Damp, filth and something sharp and animal that turned my stomach.
Ron’s voice came from inside.
“Hey! Over here!”
Then a crash.
I pushed the door open.
The troll filled the middle of the room.
It was enormous.
No description had prepared me for how little space remained around it.
Its head rose high above the cubicles, its arms looked like sections of grey tree trunk, and its club could have smashed a door and its frame together.
One sink was already gone.
Fragments lay across the wet floor.
Hermione stood against the wall, wedged into the narrow space between the stone and an overturned section of cubicle.
Harry was nearer the opposite end of the room.
Ron stood a few paces from the entrance, his wand held out.
The troll turned its head towards him.
“Move!” I shouted.
Ron looked at me.
The club rose.
I grabbed his robe and yanked.
The blow struck the edge of a sink.
Stone split with a crack.
Something hard bounced off my sleeve.
I let go of Ron.
“Peverell, what are you—”
“Later!”
***
I drew my wand.
The dummy in the Room of Requirement was roughly my height.
The troll decidedly wasn’t.
Even so, I knew a spell that might at least push it back.
“Flipendo!”
The flash struck the creature’s side.
The troll swayed slightly.
That was all.
I’d put more power into the spell than during practice, and the result looked as though I’d poked an adult with one finger.
The creature turned towards me.
That part had worked perfectly.
I backed away.
“Harry! Get her out of there!”
Potter looked at Hermione, but the troll moved a leg, blocking his path.
Its club dragged across the floor.
I couldn’t simply leave and slam the door.
The others were still inside.
I raised my wand again.
This time, I wanted to aim lower.
At the knee.
Before I could speak the spell, the troll stepped towards me.
And then I saw the magic around it move.
***
The thread I’d followed disappeared into dense, overlapping wisps around its body.
I had no time to separate them.
The troll was lifting its club.
Tension built in my left eye.
Just like in the library.
Only faster.
This time, I didn’t stop it.
I focused on the creature and tried to press.
I didn’t even know against what.
Against the dense tangle before me.
Against the movement I had to stop before the club reached me.
The troll’s arm twitched.
The blow didn’t fall.
For a brief moment, we looked at each other.
Then the creature gave a low, guttural sound and moved again.
I pressed harder.
My left eye burned.
The troll stopped its foot halfway through a step, planted it heavily and swayed, as though suddenly unsure of its balance.
“Get to the door,” I said.
I didn’t know whether anyone heard.
I couldn’t look away.
I felt resistance.
With the rod on the desk, a moment’s concentration had been enough.
Here, it felt like trying to hold a door shut while someone on the other side kept pushing.
The troll tightened its fingers around the club.
Its arm began to rise again.
I tried harder.
Pain shot through my temple.
***
Someone ran past to the side.
Harry.
I saw him indistinctly at the edge of my vision.
He reached Hermione and took her arm.
Good.
A little longer.
The troll moved its head after them.
For a moment, the pressure almost fell apart.
The creature jerked its shoulder, and I instinctively stepped back, striking my hip against an intact sink.
I didn’t stop looking.
I didn’t know whether I’d manage this a second time.
Water dripped from the end of the club.
The troll’s hand began to shake.
I breathed through my open mouth.
I wanted to blink, squeeze my eye shut, do anything to stop the burning.
Instead, I gripped the edge of the sink.
The club slipped from its fingers.
It crashed to the floor.
The troll stepped back.
That surprised me.
It hadn’t been knocked down by a blow.
Hadn’t flown backwards like the dummy.
It retreated clumsily, its head tilted away from me, and then its legs buckled.
As its knees struck the floor, I let go.
Immediately.
***
The left side of the world blurred.
I braced both hands against the stone and tried to catch my breath.
The troll was still moving.
Slowly.
Its head drooped, then rose a little.
The club lay beside its hand.
I had no intention of waiting for it to reach for it.
“We’re leaving.”
This time, my voice sounded weaker than I’d wanted.
Ron stood near the door.
He looked at the troll.
Then at me.
“What did you do to it?”
“Would you move?”
Harry held Hermione by the elbow.
She stepped carefully across the wet floor, avoiding the fragments.
I pushed away from the sink.
My legs held, though for a moment, I hadn’t been sure they would.
Fast footsteps sounded in the corridor.
***
McGonagall entered first.
She stopped for a fraction of a second, taking in the ruined bathroom.
Then raised her wand.
The spell hit the troll before it could straighten.
Its body went rigid.
Snape entered right behind her, waved us further from the creature and pointed his wand at the fallen club.
It slid across the floor to the opposite wall.
Only then did McGonagall look at us.
“Is anyone hurt?”
Harry touched his upper arm.
Hermione shook her head.
I tried to stand straighter.
“I am asking about injuries,” the professor said.
“Not whether you wish to admit to anything.”
“A fragment,” Harry said.
“I think it scratched me.”
McGonagall went to him, examined the tear in his robe and checked his arm with a short movement of her wand.
Snape watched the troll.
Quirrell appeared behind him.
My left eye burned differently.
I lowered my gaze before I could see anything more.
I’d really had enough for today.
***
“Who is going to explain why you are here?”
McGonagall spoke more quietly than before.
That didn’t sound better.
Harry answered first.
“Hermione didn’t know about the troll. We went to tell her.”
The professor looked at the girl.
Hermione opened her mouth, but no sound came for a moment.
“I’ve been here since this afternoon,” she said at last.
She didn’t explain why.
Ron looked at the floor.
“You should have informed a teacher,” McGonagall said.
“Not gone after a creature that could have killed you.”
“We weren’t following it,” Ron interrupted.
“We only—”
He looked at the troll and stopped.
Perhaps this wasn’t the best moment to distinguish the details.
The professor pressed her lips together.
“We will return to this. All three of you.”
Her gaze settled on me.
“Mr Peverell?”
I straightened automatically.
“I heard a scream.”
That was true.
Not the whole truth, but true.
“From where?”
“The corridor.”
“Why weren’t you with your house?”
For a moment, I couldn’t find an answer that didn’t sound stupid.
Because there wasn’t one.
“I left the group on the way out of the hall.”
Snape turned his head.
“I noticed,” he said.
“Do not assume the prefects are unable to count first years.”
Heat rose in my face.
I hadn’t thought of that.
There had been a lot I hadn’t thought of today.
“I didn’t know which way the troll had gone,” I added.
“When I heard them inside, I looked in.”
McGonagall studied me for a moment.
“That explanation does not make your decision any more sensible.”
“I know.”
This time, I didn’t have to pretend.
***
Snape moved closer to the creature.
He didn’t touch it.
He inspected the position in which McGonagall’s spell had caught it, then the shattered sinks and the club by the wall.
“Who cast spells?”
I swallowed.
“I did. A Knockback Jinx.”
“To what effect?”
“Not much.”
His gaze returned to the troll.
Harry shifted beside me.
“Then it stopped.”
Snape looked at him.
“The troll?”
“Yes.”
A brief silence followed.
Quirrell made a quiet sound.
“P-perhaps… perhaps it was stunned…”
Snape didn’t even turn towards him.
McGonagall looked at my wand.
I was still clutching it.
I loosened my fingers.
I didn’t want to try explaining here, in front of Quirrell.
Even if I’d known how.
“I don’t know exactly what happened,” I said.
That was true as well.
I knew what I’d tried to do.
Everything else was much less clear.
***
The teachers exchanged brief looks.
McGonagall told us to step into the corridor, then checked the immobilised troll again.
Snape stopped Quirrell at the door and said something too quietly for me to hear.
I caught only the stammered answer.
I leaned a shoulder against the cool wall.
Harry stood beside Ron.
Hermione pressed her hands against her robe, as though she’d only just noticed they were shaking.
Ron looked at me.
I thought he was about to ask again.
Fortunately, McGonagall came out before he could open his mouth.
“Return to your common rooms. No further excursions. Your prefects have been informed where you are.”
She looked at me separately.
“You too, Mr Peverell. We will discuss your behaviour later.”
I nodded.
I wasn’t going to negotiate the date.
Snape stepped into the corridor, glanced towards the stairs and indicated the way.
“Straight to the dungeons.”
“Yes, Professor.”
I started walking.
Only after a few paces did I realise I was still holding my wand.
I put it away carefully.
***
Around the first corner, I had to slow down.
In the bathroom, everything had happened too quickly for me to notice the exhaustion.
Now my legs felt heavy, and every brighter flame on the wall irritated my eye.
I touched my cheek.
My fingers were damp.
I looked at them.
Blood.
Not much.
Enough to tighten my stomach again.
For a while, I stood by the wall, listening to the teachers’ distant voices.
I could turn back.
I knew I ought to at least tell them about my eye.
Instead, I took out my handkerchief.
Held it carefully against my face without pressing.
I’d had enough of that bathroom, the troll and questions I couldn’t answer.
I wanted to sit somewhere nothing was trying to smash my head in.
It wasn’t a particularly good reason.
At that moment, it was enough.
***
I went down the stairs more slowly than usual.
I tried to recall the exact moment I’d stopped the troll.
Its arm had twitched.
Then it had moved its leg back.
The club had fallen.
It had worked.
The thought kept returning despite the pain.
I wasn’t going to pretend it meant nothing.
For a few seconds, I’d managed to stop something my ordinary spell had barely affected.
There was something incredible about that.
And something I still didn’t understand.
I didn’t know whether I could do it again.
Nor what would have happened if I’d tried to hold the pressure longer.
I looked at the handkerchief.
For now, I knew only one part of the answer.
I tucked it into my pocket.
Before entering the common room, I stopped for a moment and closed my eyes.
I’d only meant to check a strange thread.
A few steps.
I really needed to stop believing myself when I used that explanation.
POWER STONESSSSS