The trick wasn't sneaking out of the Great Hall.
The trick was sneaking out without getting caught by prefects who acted like they were guarding the Crown Jewels instead of babysitting a bunch of teenagers.
To be fair, the prefects weren't exactly Navy SEALs. They were mostly too busy having nervous breakdowns, shouting contradictory orders, and trying to stop first-years from climbing into suits of armor "for maximum protection against trolls."
Harry Potter, son of Loki and Artemis, master of mischief and mayhem, saw his opening the second Percy Weasley launched into a heated debate with a Ravenclaw prefect over whether the Hufflepuffs should be "organized alphabetically or by height for optimal safety protocols."
Jim, are you seeing this? Harry thought, his emerald eyes with their silver flecks practically glowing with amusement.
OH, I'M SEEING IT ALRIGHT! Jim's voice exploded in his head like a one-man theater troupe. PERCY WEASLEY, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! FUTURE MINISTER OF PAPERWORK! CURRENTLY HAVING AN EXISTENTIAL CRISIS OVER HUFFLEPUFF ORGANIZATION! THIS IS BETTER THAN CABLE!
Harry bit back a laugh and turned to his squad. Eight students. One sparkly cloud. Approximately zero functioning brain cells between them when it came to good decision-making.
Well, except for Hermione. She had enough brain cells for all of them combined.
"Alright," Harry murmured, his voice pitched low enough to blend with the chaos around them. "You see that gap between the Ravenclaw prefects and Sir Cadogan's portrait? We're going to slip through there single file. Quietly."
Daphne Greengrass raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, her blonde hair catching the torchlight like she was posing for a magazine cover.
"I don't do single file, Potter," she said with the kind of smirk that could probably stop traffic. "I have... presence."
Harry shot her a deadpan look that could have withered a cactus.
"Congratulations. Save it for the troll."
*OOOOH, BURN!* Jim practically shrieked with delight. *THAT'S MY BOY! SAVAGE AS A HONEY BADGER! RUTHLESS AS A REALITY TV SHOW! I'M SO PROUD!*
Hermione Granger, daughter of Athena and currently the only person in their group operating on more than two brain cells, fixed Harry with her best "I'm-about-to-lecture-you" stare.
"This is absolutely ridiculous," she hissed, her bushy brown hair practically crackling with nervous energy. "We're going to get caught, and then we'll all be expelled, and I'll never become Head Girl, and my entire future will be ruined!"
Harry smiled—the kind of smile that made teachers nervous and other students wonder if they should start running.
"Not if you keep up, Granger," he said, already slipping past her like smoke.
*LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WITNESS THE GRACE OF THE MONKEY KING!* Jim announced like he was commentating the Olympics. *LOOK AT THAT FORM! THOSE CHEEKBONES! THAT CASUAL CONFIDENCE! HE'S LIKE A TEENAGE JAMES BOND WITH BETTER HAIR!*
Aether, Harry's loyal cloud companion, swirled protectively around his shoulders, little wisps of silver mist trailing just far enough to—completely accidentally, of course—trip a couple of prefects behind them. The cloud let out a soft, innocent *woof* that sounded suspiciously like laughter.
"Good boy," Harry murmured, scratching behind what might have been the cloud's ears.
One by one, the others followed. Ron Weasley stumbled a little on the step (because Ron always stumbled), his red hair sticking up at odd angles, but Neville Longbottom caught him with surprising grace—and then nearly fell himself, because that's just how Neville rolled.
"Thanks, Neville," Ron panted, his face turning almost as red as his hair.
"No problem," Neville wheezed, adjusting his grip on his wand. "I'm getting good at catching people. Lots of practice."
Hermione stayed glued to Harry's heels, muttering dire predictions under her breath like she was reading from a prophecy of doom.
"This is going to end badly," she whispered. "I can feel it. My mother always said strategic thinking was more important than courage, and this is neither strategic nor courageous—it's just stupid."
"Sometimes stupid works, Hermione," Susan Bones said quietly, though her knuckles were white around her wand. Her red hair was pulled back in a neat braid, but her blue eyes were bright with nervous excitement.
Hannah Abbott nodded, though she kept glancing at every shadow like she expected the troll to leap out of a broom closet.
"Besides," Tracey Davis added with a grin that would have made the Cheshire Cat proud, "when has Harry Potter ever led us into anything boring?"
"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," Hermione muttered.
Daphne and Tracey moved like they were walking a runway instead of sneaking through a castle, all perfectly calculated grace and confidence. Daphne's blonde hair swayed like she was in a shampoo commercial, while Tracey's dark hair gleamed like black silk.
They cleared the Great Hall.
Made it into the corridor.
Nobody stopped them.
*PHASE ONE COMPLETE!* Jim announced triumphantly. *THEY'RE THROUGH THE GAUNTLET! THEY'RE IN THE CLEAR! THEY'RE—*
And then Harry ran.
Because that's the thing about Harry Potter, son of Loki and Artemis, master of chaos and mischief. Once he decided to do something, he did it at full speed with absolutely no regard for anyone's blood pressure.
So they bolted—down the grand staircase, through the long stone halls, their footsteps echoing off the cold walls like a stampede of teenage determination. Aether zipped overhead in a sparkly silver streak, looking like the world's fluffiest scout.
*YES! YES! YES!* Jim practically screamed with joy. *LOOK AT THEM RUN! LOOK AT THAT FORM! MAGNIFICENT! GORGEOUS! YOU SHOULD ALL BE IN AN ACTION MOVIE! I'M TALKING TRAILERS! POSTERS! TAGLINES! 'HARRY POTTER: TROLL HUNTER!' WE'LL PUT IT IN IMAX! SURROUND SOUND! PREMIUM CONCESSIONS!*
Hermione, already breathless and getting more annoyed by the second, hissed as they rounded another corner.
"This is not how proper students behave!"
Harry glanced back at her, still running, still smirking like he owned the castle.
"Granger," he said, his voice carrying that casual confidence that made him sound like he was discussing the weather instead of breaking approximately seventeen school rules, "proper students don't make history."
That shut her up. For about three seconds.
"Neither do expelled students!" she shot back.
Ron grinned through his panting, his face red but his eyes bright with excitement.
"He's right, you know!" he called out. "Besides, when's the last time anything exciting happened around here?"
"About five minutes ago when a troll broke into the castle!" Hermione snapped.
"Exactly!" Ron said, like she'd just proved his point.
Neville wheezed something that might have been agreement or might have been a plea for mercy—it was hard to tell with all the running.
*BEHOLD THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN!* Jim announced dramatically. *PLUS ONE! THE MAGNIFICENT EIGHT! RACING THROUGH THE HALLS OF DESTINY! THEIR HEARTS FULL OF COURAGE! THEIR MINDS FULL OF... WELL, MOSTLY ADRENALINE, BUT THAT'S CLOSE ENOUGH!*
The air grew colder the deeper they went, the torches sputtering in their brackets like they were running low on enthusiasm. Down here, the stones were damp and the shadows longer, stretching like dark fingers across the ancient walls.
Finally, Harry skidded to a stop at the foot of a narrow staircase leading down into the true dungeons, his emerald eyes gleaming with silver flecks in the flickering torchlight.
Aether circled his head once and let out a little glittery *woof*, then darted ahead—his floof bright against the black stone, a perfect little guide light that somehow managed to be both adorable and heroic.
Harry drew his wand, the movement smooth and practiced, like he'd been born with it in his hand.
"Alright," he murmured, turning to the others, his voice carrying that quiet authority that made people want to follow him into battle. "Stay close. Eyes sharp. Don't trip over your own feet, Weasley."
Ron shot him a look of mock offense.
"Oi! I resent that! I only trip over other people's feet!"
"That's worse, Ron," Hermione said, but there was almost a smile hiding at the corner of her mouth.
*AND NOW...* Jim's voice dropped to a reverent whisper that somehow managed to be even more dramatic than his shouting. *THE DESCENT. THE CLIMACTIC SEQUENCE. THE DARK HEART OF THE CASTLE WHERE LEGENDS ARE BORN AND TROLLS ARE... WELL, HOPEFULLY DEFEATED. DRAMA! DANGER! GLITTER! AND POSSIBLY SOME LIGHT PROPERTY DAMAGE!*
The eight of them crept forward, footsteps muffled on the ancient stones, Aether ahead of them like a living lantern that happened to be made of concentrated adorableness.
"You know," Tracey whispered, her voice carrying a hint of that dry humor that made her conversations feel like verbal fencing matches, "I was expecting Halloween to be boring this year."
"Be careful what you wish for," Susan murmured, her grip tightening on her wand.
Hannah nodded, her eyes wide but determined. "At least we're not sitting in the Great Hall listening to ghost stories."
"We're about to star in one," Daphne pointed out, though she looked more excited than worried.
Behind them, echoing through the halls like the world's most ominous percussion section, came the faintest sound of stone grinding on stone.
The troll was close.
Harry grinned, twirling his wand lazily between his fingers like he was about to perform a magic trick at a birthday party instead of facing down a mountain troll.
"Showtime," he murmured.
*OH, THIS IS GONNA BE GOOD,* Jim whispered with the kind of anticipation usually reserved for the finale of a fireworks show. *THIS IS GONNA BE SPECTACULAR! THIS IS GONNA BE—*
"Absolutely terrifying," Hermione finished, though her hand was steady on her wand and her chin was lifted with that stubborn determination that made her dangerous.
Harry's grin widened, silver flecks dancing in his emerald eyes like stars.
"Even better," he said.
And somewhere in the darkness ahead, something roared.
—
The roar shook dust from the ceiling, rattled the ancient stones, and probably woke up half the portraits in the castle.
Harry Potter grinned like a demigod who'd just found his favorite brand of chaos on sale at the local mayhem mart. His emerald eyes, still flecked with that eerie silver that made him look like he was channeling his divine parents, practically sparkled in the torchlight.
"That," he muttered, spinning his wand between his fingers with the casual confidence of someone who'd been born to cause trouble, "sounds like our cue."
Behind him, Hermione Granger made a strangled noise that sounded like a cross between a dying cat and a strategic planning session gone wrong.
"Our cue to what?" she demanded, her bushy brown hair practically crackling with daughter-of-Athena indignation. "Die horribly? Become troll food? Ruin our academic careers?"
Harry shot her a look over his shoulder—all smirk and cheekbones and that insufferable confidence that made teachers nervous and other students wonder if they should start taking notes.
"Relax, Granger," he said, his voice carrying that lazy drawl that suggested he found the entire situation mildly entertaining. "We've got this."
*OH, DO WE EVER!* Jim's voice practically exploded in his skull like a one-man Broadway show having a nervous breakdown. *YES! TELL HER, KID! YOU'RE THE MONKEY KING! SON OF LOKI! SON OF ARTEMIS! GOD OF CHEEK AND SAVAGERY! MASTER OF THE PERFECTLY TIMED COMEBACK! YOU WERE BORN FOR THIS MOMENT! YOU WERE BORN... TO TROLL THE TROLL! IT'S LIKE POETRY! IT'S LIKE DESTINY! IT'S LIKE REALLY GOOD TELEVISION!*
Aether zipped ahead down the corridor with a determined little *woof* and a burst of sparkly mist that looked like liquid starlight. The cloud moved with purpose, his floof trailing behind him like a comet of pure adorableness.
They followed, their footsteps surprisingly quiet now, wands out, the tension crackling in the air like static electricity before a thunderstorm. Even Ron wasn't cracking jokes, which for Ron Weasley was like the apocalypse deciding to take a rain check.
Neville Longbottom swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing like a nervous yo-yo.
"Er... did that roar... sound close to anyone else?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Close?" Tracey Davis deadpanned, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder with the kind of practiced nonchalance that suggested she faced down monsters before breakfast. "Sweetheart, it's probably already writing its autobiography in the next room. Chapter One: 'How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Smashing Things.'"
Susan Bones' blue eyes darted to the nearest door, her red hair catching the torchlight like copper flame.
"I think... it went in there," she whispered, pointing with a slightly trembling finger.
Hannah Abbott's voice was barely a squeak, like a mouse trying to file a noise complaint.
"That's... that's the girls' bathroom," she managed.
Harry stopped in front of the door. It was hanging crooked on its hinges, the top splintered like the troll had tried to punch through it headfirst—which, knowing trolls, was probably exactly what had happened.
"Well," he said lightly, examining the damage with the air of someone reviewing a particularly interesting piece of modern art, "guess it needed to freshen up."
*BATHROOM HUMOR!* Jim shrieked with delight. *CLASSIC! TIMELESS! SHAKESPEARE WISHES HE'D THOUGHT OF IT FIRST!*
Hermione shot Harry a withering glare that could have melted titanium.
"Really? Bathroom jokes? Now? We're about to face a mountain troll, and you're making puns?"
Harry just winked at her, that infuriating little gesture that made her want to hex him and hug him at the same time.
"What can I say, Granger? I'm a multi-talented guy."
He pressed his palm to the door, and the wood felt cold and damp under his fingers.
*THEY STAND AT THE THRESHOLD...* Jim's voice dropped to a stage whisper that somehow managed to be even more dramatic than his shouting. *OF DESTINY. OF DANGER. OF... PLUMBING. THE FINAL FRONTIER. THESE ARE THE VOYAGES OF THE STARSHIP BATHROOM BREAK...*
Aether floated next to Harry's head and gave a glittery little *boof*, ready for action, his misty form pulsing with anticipation.
"Good boy," Harry murmured, scratching what might have been the cloud's ears. "Ready to show this troll what we're made of?"
The cloud sparkled brighter, which Harry took as a yes.
Harry pushed the door open.
The scene inside was... well, spectacular wasn't quite the right word. Catastrophic came closer. Apocalyptic might have been more accurate.
One troll.
One giant, gray-skinned mountain of stink and muscle, standing in the middle of the tiled floor like a particularly ugly statue come to life. A broken sink dangled from its massive hand like a club, porcelain and metal twisted into an impromptu weapon. The stalls behind it were in ruins, doors hanging off their hinges, porcelain shattered everywhere, water spraying from broken pipes in enthusiastic geysers.
And in the middle of the room...
Nothing. Just puddles of water and the occasional bit of floating debris.
It hadn't found anyone yet. But it would.
*BEHOLD!* Jim announced with the reverence of a nature documentary narrator. *THE MOUNTAIN TROLL IN ITS NATURAL HABITAT! NOTICE THE GRACEFUL WAY IT DESTROYS EVERYTHING IN SIGHT! THE ELEGANT MANNER IN WHICH IT MAKES EVERYTHING SMELL LIKE A GARBAGE TRUCK HAD A BABY WITH A SEWAGE PLANT!*
Daphne Greengrass leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, her smirk lazy and confident like she was evaluating a particularly disappointing blind date.
"Well," she said, her voice carrying that upper-class drawl that suggested she'd seen worse things at family dinners, "there's our dance partner."
Ron's face had gone pale, but he managed to crack a weak smile.
"Think it knows how to waltz?" he asked.
"Probably more of a death metal kind of dancer," Tracey replied, though her dark eyes were calculating, already working out angles and strategies.
Harry twirled his wand between his fingers, the movement hypnotic and strangely calming.
"Yeah," he said, his grin growing feral, showing teeth like a predator who'd just spotted prey, "let's show it a good time."
Hermione, despite every logical instinct screaming at her to run, stepped forward beside him, wand at the ready. Her brown eyes were sharp with intelligence, her hair practically sparking with daughter-of-Athena fury.
"Alright, then," she said, her voice steady despite the chaos around them. "What's the plan, genius?"
*YES!* Jim was practically vibrating with glee. *YES! PLAN! TELL THEM, KID! THIS IS YOUR MOMENT! THE BIG REVEAL! THE CROWD GOES WILD! THE MUSIC SWELLS! SPOTLIGHT ON YOUUUU! ACADEMY AWARD FOR BEST HEROIC MOMENT GOES TO—*
Harry raised his wand and said, with perfect, infuriating calm:
"We wing it."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Hermione groaned like someone had just told her that all the books in the world had been replaced with picture books about cats.
"I hate you so much right now," she muttered.
Harry's grin widened, showing all his teeth.
"Don't worry, Granger. You'll thank me when this is over."
"I'll thank you if we survive this," she shot back.
"Same thing, really."
The troll noticed them then—little piggy eyes narrowing, nostrils flaring like it was trying to figure out if they were edible. It let out a roar that rattled the pipes, shook water from the ceiling, and probably registered on seismographs three counties away.
It raised its improvised club, water still dripping from the broken sink.
And Harry Potter, son of mischief, son of the hunt, master of chaos and perfectly timed one-liners... laughed.
Not a nervous laugh. Not a scared laugh. A laugh of pure, unadulterated joy, like someone had just told him the best joke in the world.
*THAT'S MY BOY!* Jim screamed with pride. *LAUGH IN THE FACE OF DANGER! GIGGLE AT IMMINENT DOOM! CHUCKLE AT CATASTROPHE! YOU'RE MAGNIFICENT!*
"Alright, team," Harry called, his emerald eyes blazing silver-green like captured lightning, "let's go break a troll."
Aether let out an enthusiastic *woof* and shot forward, trailing sparkles like a comet of pure determination.
The troll swung its club.
And the real fun began.
*TO BE CONTINUED...* Jim whispered dramatically. *SAME BAT-TIME, SAME BAT-CHANNEL, SAME BAT-BATHROOM!*
—
The troll swung.
The sink-turned-club whooshed through the air with all the grace of a wrecking ball having a temper tantrum, fast enough to make Ron Weasley yelp like a stepped-on puppy and dive behind a broken stall door. Tiles shattered where the improvised weapon hit, sending sharp ceramic shrapnel skittering across the flooded floor like deadly confetti.
And Harry Potter—son of Loki, son of Artemis, master of mischief and mayhem—grinned like it was Christmas morning and he'd just unwrapped pure, concentrated trouble.
He leapt onto Aether's waiting floof without hesitation, because apparently jumping onto clouds was just another Tuesday for Harry Potter. The cloud solidified under him into a shimmering silver platform that looked like liquid starlight had decided to cosplay as a surfboard, zipping him up and out of the troll's immediate reach with a burst of sparkly mist.
*OH, BABY!* Jim howled gleefully inside his skull, his voice reaching decibel levels that would make a jet engine jealous. *NOW WE'RE TALKING! GIVE 'EM THE SHOW, KID! SPOTLIGHT'S ALL YOURS! YOU'RE THE STAR! THE HEADLINER! THE MONKEY KING HIMSELF! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BOYS AND GIRLS, WELCOME TO THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH!*
Harry crouched low as Aether zipped in a tight circle above the troll's head, his bow already forming in his left hand—a smooth, midnight-black recurve bow with shimmering silver inlays that looked like starlight trapped in ebony wood. His right hand plucked an invisible string, and an arrow of pure glowing magic sprang into existence, its tip blazing with energy that crackled like captured lightning.
"Nice of you to join the party, Jim," Harry muttered, his emerald eyes with their silver flecks practically glowing with anticipation.
*I LIVE FOR THIS!* Jim shouted back, his voice doing a full Broadway production number complete with jazz hands. *THIS IS MY SUPER BOWL! MY OLYMPICS! MY ACADEMY AWARDS CEREMONY! NOW GIVE THAT BIG UGLY THE GOOD OLD ONE-TWO-ARCHERY-DOOM COMBO!*
The troll roared, a sound like a freight train colliding with a foghorn, and spun its club upward in a clumsy swipe that missed Harry by a good three feet. More tiles cracked, water pipes burst, and the ceiling groaned ominously like it was considering early retirement.
Harry nocked his first spell-arrow and smirked down at his oversized opponent with the kind of confidence that made teachers nervous and other students wonder if they should start taking bets.
"You know what they say," he called down to the troll, his voice carrying that lazy drawl that suggested he found the entire situation mildly entertaining. "The bigger they are..."
He drew back the bowstring, the magical arrow crackling with red energy.
"Expelliarmus," he murmured, and let fly.
The bowstring thrummed like a harp string played by angels, and the blazing red arrow launched with a sound like controlled lightning. It struck the troll square in its massive knuckles, exploding in a shower of sparks that lit up the bathroom like a Fourth of July finale.
The sink-club went spinning from the creature's hand, clattering across the bathroom and crashing through yet another stall with enough force to make the whole structure shudder.
"Nice shot!" Ron cheered weakly from behind his stall door, though his voice cracked a little on the last word.
"Oh, don't encourage him," Hermione Granger snapped, her bushy brown hair practically crackling with daughter-of-Athena indignation, though she couldn't quite hide the gleam of grudging admiration in her intelligent brown eyes. "His ego is big enough already!"
*SHE LOVES IT!* Jim cackled with delight. *LOOK AT HER! SHE'S TRYING SO HARD TO BE DISAPPROVING BUT SHE'S TOTALLY IMPRESSED! IT'S LIKE WATCHING SOMEONE TRY TO HATE ICE CREAM!*
Even as the troll roared in frustration, shaking its massive head like a confused bulldog, Harry was already pulling back another glowing arrow, this one crackling with blue energy that danced along the magical shaft like captured electricity.
"Miss me already?" Harry called down to the troll with that infuriating smirk that made him look like he was posing for a magazine cover.
*STUN IT, KID!* Jim yelled, his voice reaching levels of enthusiasm that would make a sports announcer weep with envy. *DON'T MAKE IT TOO EASY, THOUGH—YOU GOTTA GIVE THE AUDIENCE A LITTLE TENSION! A LITTLE DRAMA! A LITTLE RAZZLE-DAZZLE!*
Harry's smirk widened, showing teeth.
"Fine by me. Stupefy."
The second arrow shot downward like a falling star, slamming into the troll's chest and exploding in a shower of blue sparks that lit up the bathroom like a disco ball having a seizure. The creature staggered, bellowing in pain and confusion, its piggy little eyes narrowing into slits of pure, unadulterated rage.
And then it lunged.
Not at Harry—oh no, that would have been too easy. Instead, it lunged at the nearest target it could reach: Neville Longbottom, who was standing frozen like a deer in headlights, his wand trembling in his hand.
"Neville!" Hannah Abbott shrieked, her voice reaching pitches that could shatter glass.
"Harry!" Hermione called from the floor, her voice cutting through the chaos like a knife through butter. "Stop playing around! You can't just keep shooting spells randomly—you need to incapacitate it before it hurts someone!"
"Working on it, Granger," Harry called back, riding Aether in a dizzying spiral that would have made a falcon jealous.
But Hermione Granger, daughter of Athena, master of strategic thinking and color-coded study schedules, wasn't about to stand around and watch. Her eyes narrowed with the kind of focus that made her dangerous, her brain already working at speeds that would make a supercomputer jealous.
She ducked behind a mostly-intact stall door and yanked out parchment and quill—because of course she carried those everywhere, because Hermione Granger was the kind of person who was prepared for everything, including impromptu monster analysis.
"Alright," she muttered to herself, her quill scratching furiously as she scribbled notes. "Mountain troll. Low intelligence but high strength. Poor peripheral vision. Very strong upper body but weak joints. Easily distracted by bright lights and loud noises. Right. If I can just work out the optimal strategy—"
Daphne Greengrass raised an unimpressed eyebrow as she ducked another sweep of the troll's massive arm, her blonde hair somehow managing to look perfect even in the middle of a monster fight.
"Really, Granger?" she drawled, her voice carrying that upper-class accent that suggested she'd seen worse things at family dinner parties. "Taking notes now? What's next, a pop quiz?"
"It's called strategy," Hermione snapped, her cheeks flushing pink with indignation. "Some of us prefer to think before we act!"
Harry whooped from above as another arrow streaked into the troll's knee, this one glowing green and making the creature stumble.
"Thinking's overrated!" he called, grinning like a lunatic who'd just discovered that chaos was his favorite flavor of ice cream. "Distraction's working fine for me!"
*YEAH IT IS!* Jim crowed, his voice doing a full victory lap around Harry's brain. *LOOK AT YOU! LOOK AT THAT FORM! THE BOW! THE CLOUD! THE SHEER AUDACITY! IT'S LIKE LEGOLAS HAD A LOVE CHILD WITH A THUNDERSTORM AND NAMED IT CHAOS! PURE POETRY IN MOTION!*
Hermione groaned like someone had just told her that all the libraries in the world were being converted into reality TV studios, and pointed her wand at the far corner of the bathroom.
"Incendio!"
A small pile of shattered wood and water-logged rags erupted into flames, drawing the troll's attention long enough for Harry to line up another shot. The creature turned toward the fire like a moth to a flame, giving Harry a perfect target.
"Thanks, Granger," he said, his tone infuriatingly casual as he loosed another glowing arrow, this one crackling with yellow energy. "Wouldn't want it getting bored."
This arrow struck the ceiling above the troll, bringing down a hail of pipes and water in a spectacular cascade that would have made a waterfall jealous. The monster staggered again, slipping on the increasingly flooded tiles like a drunk elephant trying to ice skate.
Hermione's quill scratched even more furiously, her strategic mind working overtime.
"Alright," she muttered, her voice sharp and focused with the kind of authority that made people want to follow her into battle. "Tracey, Susan—see if you can get behind it, distract it with light spells. Hannah, help Neville find something heavy to trip it with. Daphne, keep its attention up front—if it looks at you, just... smile or something. It'll probably forget what it was doing."
Daphne smirked, the expression making her look like she could stop traffic with a glance.
"Oh, darling," she purred, "I always do."
The group split into motion like a well-oiled machine. Tracey Davis and Susan Bones darted toward the far corners, their wands blazing with dazzling beams of light that strobed through the bathroom like a rave having a nervous breakdown. Hannah Abbott and Neville Longbottom heaved a shattered door into position behind the troll's legs, both of them red-faced and panting but determined.
Ron Weasley popped up from behind his stall door, his red hair sticking up at odd angles.
"What about me?" he called out, his voice cracking slightly. "What should I do?"
"Try not to die!" Tracey called back, her voice carrying that dry humor that made every conversation feel like a particularly witty duel.
"Brilliant plan," Ron muttered, but he raised his wand anyway.
And Harry?
He stood on Aether's swirling back like he was born to it, emerald eyes blazing with silver flecks, bowstring glowing with power. He looked like a young god of war, if young gods of war wore Hogwarts robes and had a tendency to make terrible puns at inappropriate moments.
"You heard the lady," he murmured, drawing another arrow, this one blazing with white-hot energy. "Time to end this show."
*OH YEAH!* Jim screamed, his voice reaching levels of excitement that would make a rocket launch jealous. *FINALE TIME! GIMME DRAMA! GIMME GLITTER! GIMME FIREWORKS! GIMME A ONE-LINER THAT'LL MAKE THE HISTORY BOOKS, BABY!*
The troll swung at Daphne, who danced just out of reach with all the casual grace of someone who thought mountain trolls were just slightly more boring dance partners than the usual suspects at pureblood society parties.
"Is that the best you can do?" she taunted, her voice carrying that perfect blend of boredom and disdain that could probably deflate an ego at fifty paces.
Harry nocked his final arrow, the tip blazing with gold energy—pure, dazzling light that made the entire bathroom glow like the inside of a star.
"Hey, ugly!" he called down to the troll, his voice carrying that lazy confidence that made him sound like he was discussing the weather instead of facing down a monster. "This one's for the home team!"
He drew back the bowstring, the magical energy crackling around the arrow like captured lightning.
"Lumos Maxima," he whispered.
The arrow streaked downward like a falling star, trailing gold fire as it flew. It hit the troll square between the eyes in a brilliant explosion of white light that lit up the entire bathroom like a nuclear sunrise.
The troll froze, its club halfway to the ground, its piggy eyes rolling back in its head. For a moment, it swayed like a tree in a hurricane.
Then the massive creature collapsed with a thunderous crash that rattled the remaining tiles, shook the walls, and probably registered on seismographs in three different countries.
Silence.
Then:
*AND THAT, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!* Jim boomed like a ring announcer at the world's most dramatic boxing match. *IS HOW YOU TROLL A TROLL! GIVE THE BOY A MEDAL! GIVE HIM A TROPHY! GIVE HIM HIS OWN THEME SONG!*
Harry dismounted Aether with an easy leap, landing on the wet floor with a splash that sent ripples across the flooded tiles. He looked like he'd just stepped off a movie set, somehow managing to look perfect despite having just fought a mountain troll in a bathroom.
"Well," he said, spinning his bow back into nothingness with a casual flick of his fingers, "that was fun."
Hermione just stood there, parchment still clutched in one hand, her quill dripping ink, staring at him like she wasn't sure whether she wanted to kiss him, hex him, or drag him to the library to catalog his spellwork for future reference.
"That," she said finally, her voice shaking slightly with a mixture of adrenaline and indignation, "was completely reckless. And undisciplined. And utterly lacking in any kind of strategic planning. And—"
"Awesome?" Harry suggested, his smirk widening into that infuriating grin that made teachers want to give him detention and awards at the same time.
She scowled, though there was a hint of something that might have been admiration lurking in her brown eyes.
"You're impossible," she muttered.
"And you love it," Harry replied, his grin showing all his teeth like a predator who'd just discovered that hunting was his favorite hobby.
*YES!* Jim crowed, his voice doing a full victory dance. *PERFECT! FREEZE FRAME! ROLL CREDITS! FADE TO BLACK! THIS KID'S GONNA BE A LEGEND! A MYTH! A STORY THEY TELL AROUND CAMPFIRES!*
Aether let out a happy, sparkly *woof* that sounded like wind chimes having a party, and settled around Harry's shoulders like a living, fluffy scarf made of concentrated adorableness.
"Good boy," Harry murmured, scratching behind what might have been the cloud's nonexistent ears. "You did great."
The cloud pulsed with warm light, clearly pleased with the praise.
Behind them, the others were already starting to laugh, the tension breaking like a dam bursting, relief flooding through the group in waves. Even Daphne gave a slow clap, her smirk curling into something genuinely amused.
"Well, Potter," she drawled, examining her perfectly manicured nails with the air of someone who'd just watched a mildly entertaining theatrical performance, "you certainly know how to make an impression."
"Yeah," Tracey added, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief, "though I think you might have overdone it just a little. You know, with the whole 'riding a cloud and shooting magic arrows' thing."
"Overdone?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. "I prefer to think of it as 'adequately dramatic.'"
Ron finally emerged from behind his stall door, his face pale but grinning.
"That," he said, his voice slightly hoarse, "was the most brilliant thing I've ever seen. Also the most terrifying. But mostly brilliant."
Neville nodded enthusiastically, his round face flushed with excitement.
"The way you just... jumped on the cloud!" he stammered. "And the bow! And the arrows! It was like something out of a story!"
"We're all going to be in so much trouble," Susan said, but she was smiling as she said it, her blue eyes bright with the kind of exhilaration that comes from surviving something impossible.
Hannah nodded, giggling slightly with what might have been hysteria.
"Professor McGonagall is going to have our heads," she said. "But it was worth it."
Harry glanced at the unconscious troll, the shattered bathroom, the flooded floor, and his very damp, very wide-eyed, very alive friends.
"Yeah," he said, his grin sharp and feral and absolutely unrepentant. "That's kind of my thing."
*TO BE CONTINUED...* Jim whispered dramatically, his voice dropping to a theatrical stage whisper. *NEXT EPISODE: 'HOW TO EXPLAIN A DESTROYED BATHROOM TO PROFESSOR MCGONAGALL WITHOUT GETTING EXPELLED.' STAY TUNED FOR MORE CHAOS, MORE FLOOF, AND MORE HARRY POTTER BEING ABSOLUTELY IMPOSSIBLE! SAME BAT-TIME, SAME BAT-CHANNEL, SAME BAT-BATHROOM!*
Somewhere in the distance, footsteps echoed through the corridors—heavy, authoritative footsteps that belonged to people who were definitely going to have Questions with a capital Q.
"Uh, Harry?" Ron said, his voice suddenly small. "I think we're about to have company."
Harry's grin widened.
"Even better," he said. "I love an audience."
*OH, THIS IS GONNA BE GOOD,* Jim whispered gleefully. *THIS IS GONNA BE REALLY, REALLY GOOD.*
---
Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!
If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord (HHHwRsB6wd) server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!
Can't wait to see you there!