Thursday, 31 October 1991
Harry sat next to Seamus and tried not to laugh as his friend somehow lit their feather on fire while attempting to levitate it. He'd become rather certain that Seamus had an affinity for elemental magic, most especially when it came to fire. The thought made him wonder whether Seamus had Druid blood in his line somewhere. He was from a small town in Ireland so it wasn't entirely out of the question. Harry realized he'd zoned out thinking about fire and bloodlines when he heard Ron and Hermione mocking one another in what might appear to an outsider to be a fight but, to Harry (and the rest of the Gryffindors), who knew the pair quite well, it was simply a display of what 11 and 12 year old children considered flirting.
"It's LeviOHsa, not LevioSAH," Ron teased back, a grin on his face. "You do it if you're so clever."
Hermione huffed, rolled her eyes, and then performed the spell perfectly.
Ron's smile didn't so much as waver, "well done," he said with a light laugh, patting Hermione jovially on the shoulder. Harry and Seamus grinned at each other as they watched the pink blush spread all the way to the tips of Hermione's ears.
"Oh, well done!" Flitwick cheered, looking positively overjoyed. "Everyone, see here, Miss Granger's done it."
Somehow, Hermione's cheeks got even redder under the praise and attention. Seamus, being the absolute icon that he is, lit their feather on fire again to pull the classes' attention. Hermione shot him a grateful smile as he did his best to look apologetic. Harry pretended he'd dropped a quill so he could hide his laughter under their desk.
* * *
Hermione was having a great day. She'd performed the levitation charm perfectly and, by the end of class, Ron had gotten it as well. The way he'd smiled at her when he'd succeeded with her help was, quite possibly, the best thing that had ever happened to her.
Seamus noticing that she was embarrassed by the attention and doing something to fix it was also wonderful. She was starting to see his side of the whole 'fire solves everything' argument, which was mildly concerning, but she decided to push that thought to the back of her mind in favour of continuing to have a good day.
Charms had been wonderful, Transfiguration had been interesting even though it was primarily theory, History of Magic had been boring as ever but they were working out a system that slowly made the time more productive.
She had a few minutes before the First Year Gryffindors had agreed to meet in the library and divide up their History of Magic assignments for next week and then pick a topic off the list of OWL requirements they'd found in the back of the library to self-study and Hermione had decided to take the long way between the corridors, wanting to enjoy the unseasonably warm weather if even for a few minutes. As a result, she was walking alone.
"It's no wonder she hasn't got any friends," a voice said from over her shoulder, "she's a nightmare, honestly!"
Hermione looked up, wanting to defend whoever these people were talking poorly about, and realized they were looking at her.
She recognized them, a couple of Ravenclaw girls in their class. She'd only really met Padma by nature of living with her twin sister, Parvati. But she had classes with these girls, they'd seen her sit with friends every class period and every day at meals. This was one of the only times she'd actually been alone since they got off the Express, now that she thought about it.
The thing was, she knew she had friends. She'd met Neville on the train and offered to search for his toad and the rest had been history. That had brought her to Harry and Ron who were quickly becoming her favourite people, bar her parents. The girls in her dorm had warmed up to her once she'd talked to Harry and mellowed out a bit. She'd quickly grown to like Seamus and Dean, they were funny and cared deeply about their friends. Their whole year group was close and it was honestly incredible.
But, up until September 1st, she'd never had a friend.
It was all so new.
Hearing these girls say she didn't have friends, that she was a nightmare made her feel like she was six-years-old again and standing on the edge of the playground wondering why no one wanted to play. It made her feel like she was nine-years-old and the only one not invited to the popular girl's sleepover party.
It made her feel small.
So, instead of fighting back, instead of going to the library, to her incredible group of friends who would dispel this feeling with kind words and warm hugs, she put her head down and ran until she reached somewhere quiet.
She slid down the wall, hugged her knees to her chest, and let herself cry.
She didn't realize she was in the first floor girl's loo until she heard the crash from the hallway.
* * *
If Harry wasn't hardwired with Gryffindor chivalry, Pendragon valour, and Potter fortitude, he would've punched Mandy Brocklehurst in the nose.
He was about ready to stop holding Lavender back from doing it herself.
Instead, the group of nine righteously pissed off Gryffindors decided it'd be best to simply attend the feast with their heads down and then deal with it on their own. They didn't want to call more attention to Hermione. She deserved to have a moment alone and then she deserved to be picked up and put back together by her friends. Her friends who loved her fiercely and were seriously going to fight some Ravenclaws if they didn't stop looking so smug.
Just as Harry was about to abandon their plan and throw a pumpkin pasty right at Sally-Anne Perks' head, Quirrell burst into the hall shouting about a troll in the dungeons.
"Hermione," their group said, almost perfectly in sync.
Harry watched as his friends prepared themselves to run into danger in the defense of a comrade and quickly realized he needed to put a stop to it. They weren't trained. He was. Trolls weren't like the magical creatures Harry knew and loved. They were truly mindless and served a single purpose: destruction. They were also magically resistant. It'd take a truly insane amount of magical power or someone who could effectively wield a blade to actually kill a troll. And that was exactly what he planned to do.
He'd never battled a real troll before, but he'd taken down several rather realistic golems. Other than Dumbledore, who was currently rather busy making sure the thousand other students under his care made it safely to their locked and warded dormitories, he might just be the most qualified person in the castle to deal with this specific situation.
"Stop," he said, drawing all of their attention. Most days he'd grumble about his status as de facto leader of this pride, but today he was going to lean into it. "Everyone else go up to the dorms. Stay safe. I will get Hermione, I am trained to fight."
They all looked like they wanted to argue but Harry could tell that he had a look in his eye that he was certain he'd somehow magically inherited from Remus. The look that made even Arcturus sit down and shut up.
"What do you mean you're trained?" Parvati asked, nerves clear in her voice.
"You really think they'd release Heir Black into the wild without knowing how to wield a dagger?"
"Fair play," she nodded, ceding to his plan immediately.
"You're not going alone," Ron decided. Harry wanted to argue but he recognized the look in Ron's eye as well, there was no getting him to back down.
Something in his heart, something singing in his Pendragon blood, told him he'd just selected his first Knight.
"Fine," he agreed with a nod. "Ron and I will go get Hermione, all of you go to our dorm and wait for us."
"Ready, break," Dean said, trying to bring some levity to the situation.
It almost worked.
As the Gryffindors filed out of the hall, Harry and Ron fell to the back of the group before ducking into an alcove hidden behind a tapestry they'd discovered a week prior.
"Do you know where we're going?" Ron asked quietly.
"Sorry I haven't mentioned this before, I wasn't exactly hiding it, just wasn't sure how to bring it up," Harry said, listening closely until he deemed the footsteps were far enough away. He waved Ron forward as he stepped back into the hall, "but I'm Heir Gryffindor. The castle will answer my call."
"Sick," Ron said, a massive grin on his face.
"Right?" Harry laughed before his smile dropped and he closed his eyes, getting back on track. He let his magic spill out with single-minded focus, find Hermione. He felt a tug against his core and followed it immediately, in almost no time at all they found themselves at the end of the hall leading to the girl's bathroom. Just as they turned the corner they heard an all-mighty crash.
"Fuck," Ron said.
Harry rather thought that summed up the situation quite well.
He watched the troll duck into a door and nearly threw out his magic to lock it before realizing the troll had gone into the bathroom. The bathroom where Hermione was currently sitting, believing herself to be unloved and friendless. Harry was going to kill this troll and then he was going to leave the head on Mandy Brocklehurst's pillow.
He realized he was starting to sound a bit like Kreacher but decided now wasn't the time to be concerned by that.
As they ran for the door, Harry found himself thinking it'd be nice if he had a sword right about now. He was handy with a dagger but he was, as Merlin put it, an absolute menace with a sword. Just as the thought passed through his head, he felt his Gryffindor ring heat up and a moment later a gleaming long sword materialized in his palm. He decided he'd question the origin of the magical sword at a later date and simply unsheathed his Black dagger and passed it over to Ron. He was rather certain Ron wasn't going to need to get involved, but what sort of King would he be if he left his Knights unarmed?
"Distract it!" he ordered as they burst through the door. Ron listened without question, which was something Harry kind of wanted to hug him for, and launched a chunk of porcelain the troll had knocked loose right at his head. The moment the beast began to turn, Harry jumped into action, letting years of training in the castle yard take over. He might only be eleven, but he'd been training since he could reliably hold a wooden sword; it was pure instinct at this point.
In mere minutes, Harry had the troll beheaded and was rushing to comfort a visibly shaken Hermione.
He dropped to his knees at her side and pulled her into his arms, holding her head against his chest like Moony did for him when he'd woken up shaken by a nightmare. Moments later, Ron dropped to the floor on her other side and wrapped his arms around both of them.
Harry wasn't sure how long they sat there, simply holding on and breathing, before the professors showed up.
McGonagall came running into the room first, followed closely by Snape and Quirrell. She took one look around the room, eyes catching on the headless troll, the sword, and Harry's almost serene expression and connected the dots rather quickly, "Mr. Potter, care to explain how you killed a fully grown mountain troll?"
"I've been sword fighting since I was four?" he responded, knowing it sounded more like a question than he meant. He was rather aware that he looked outwardly calm, but inside he was freaking the fuck out. Hermione, hisHermione, had almost been attacked by a troll that had somehow made its way inside a school. Harry hadn't been in school for all that long but he was rather certain that trolls weren't a part of the day-to-day experience. He became further distracted by his right middle finger heating up again. He spared it a glance and just barely bit back his sigh as he watched the ring transform. It turns out he'd found that 'Condition Subsequent.'
Wield our sword in defense of a friend, the magic whispered like a breeze through his hair.
"Alright," McGonagall said, "better question, where did you get a sword?"
"The school," Harry said, not wanting to admit out loud that he was Lord goddamn Gryffindor right at this moment. Something was telling him not to trust the defense professor and today didn't feel like the day to start ignoring his instincts. "I was running into the room and thought it'd be pretty great to have a sword right about now and, boom, sword."
"And, boom, sword," Snape echoed, looking, to Harry's absolute astonishment, almost amused. "Well, Mr. Potter, you should thank whoever trained you to wield a blade because this was a rather impressive feat. I must ask, however, why you three decided to come face this troll alone?"
Harry saw Hermione open her mouth and was almost certain it was to take the blame. He absolutely couldn't have that, so he cut her off, "a couple Ravenclaw girls thought it'd be fun to tell Hermione that she's a friendless nightmare, which is blatantly false, but because she's human their words affected her and she wanted some peace and quiet. We were all planning to come find her after the feast to cheer her up and bring her food but then somehow a troll got through Hogwarts' legendary wards, which, as a side note, I think someone ought to look into, and we realized that she was in danger so we came to find her. We didn't expect to cross paths with said troll as we were told it was in the dungeons and we're currently on the first floor."
"Names," McGonagall said, her tone brokering no argument.
"Mandy Brocklehurst and Sally-Anne Perks," Ron responded immediately.
"I shall handle it," she said, scanning her students' faces once more. "Are any of you injured?"
"I think Hermione got scraped up when the troll destroyed the sinks."
"I'm alright, Ron," she whispered.
"No, Miss Granger, you are not," Snape said, stepping over the troll and making his way over to their corner. He knelt down with an uncharacteristically soft look on his face, "may I see? I'm a trained healer as well as a potions master."
"That's rather impressive, sir," she said softly as she held out her arm. There was a bit of a gash on it, not the worst injury Harry had ever seen, but certainly painful. With two quick flicks of Snape's wand, the wound knitted together, leaving only a faint scar behind.
"Thank you, Miss Granger, I rather think you, too, could complete the training on top of earning a mastery with that mind of yours. I've healed the wound and the mark should fade but if you'd like, you can visit Madame Pomfrey and she'll give you some dittany so it'll fade quicker."
"I have some in my trunk," Harry offered. "All our friends are waiting in the dorm to see you. We missed you this afternoon."
"Severus, Quirinus, would you be so kind as to dispose of this troll while I escort my students up to the tower?" McGonagall asked.
"Of c-c-course," Quirrell said, speaking for the first time since he'd run into the Hall.
Harry got to his feet and held out his hands to help his friends stand. Once he made sure they were on steady feat, he reached down to pick up what he now knew to be the Sword of Gryffindor. Or, to those in the know, the sword Sir Gwaine had used as a Knight of Camelot that he'd then passed down to his son, Gabriel, who'd passed it to Geoffrey, who'd passed it to Gearalt, who'd passed it to Gilead, who'd passed it to Godric.
As they walked into the hall, Harry had the rather hysterical thought that he sure hoped he wasn't going to have to change his name to Gary to properly wield the weapon.
He could've sworn he heard a laugh echo from where his hand wrapped around the hilt.
On instinct, he spun the sword around his hand once and then tapped the point to the ground. A burst of bright red magic flashed up the blade and a moment later, Harry had an inconspicuous bracelet made of red and gold chord wrapped around his right wrist.
He was rather glad only Ron, Hermione, and McGonagall had been there to witness that little display.
McGonagall looked almost resigned, Hermione looked like she wanted to ask about 10,000 questions, and Ron was simply grinning.
"Uh," Harry said, clearing his throat and putting on his best sheepish smile, "Harrison James Regulus Potter-Black, Lord Gryffindor, well met?"
Ron let out a whoop as he threw an arm around Harry's shoulders, a massive grin still plastered across his face.
"Well met?" Hermione echoed back, seemingly realizing she now had about 10,026 questions. Harry planned to answer every last one. She deserved it after this day.
"You, Mr. Potter, are a menace," McGonagall said, smiling almost as hard as Ron.
"I've been told," Harry said, grinning in return.
* * *
At the portrait hole, the trio graciously accepted 20 points each for their level-headedness in the face of a threat, their defense of a friend, and displaying true Gryffindor bravery. Harry was rather certain that the school's magic was laughing at having to record points to Lord Gryffindor for Gryffindor bravery.
With one last nod and a comforting squeeze to Hermione's shoulder, McGonagall turned to head back toward her office.
"Thank you," Hermione whispered when it was just the three of them.
"Of course," Harry said easily. "I'll never not come if you're in danger."
"And I'll be right at his side," Ron added. "Now let's get inside before Nev paces a hole through our dorm floor."
"Harry," Hermione said softly, grabbing his arm before he could follow Ron into the common room.
"Yes?"
"You said it wasn't true, what they said. Did you mean that?"
"Of course I meant it," Harry said, immediately pulling his friend into a tight hug. "Hermione you are one of the first friends I ever made. You continue to be an amazing friend. You are intelligent, kind, brave, and incredibly witty. I am honoured to be your friend and I'll be by your side as long as you'll have me."
"I wouldn't really know because I'm an only child," Hermione said quietly, "but I sort of think this is what it feels like to have a brother."
"I wouldn't really know either," Harry laughed, "neither would Nev, though, and we've decided we're brothers. Welcome to the family."
"Happy to be here," Hermione said with a light laugh that lifted the last bit of weight off Harry's heart. That laugh was one of his favourite sounds and for a moment there, there was a genuine risk he'd never hear it again. He vowed to make her laugh as often as he could. The world was just that much brighter when Hermione Granger was happy.
* * *
Once everyone had left their dorm that night and Harry had showered off any signs he'd battled a troll, he climbed into his bed and pulled the curtains shut around him. With hardly a thought, he conjured a ball of light and set it to float near the canopy as he willed the bracelet to transform back into a sword.
The Sword of Gryffindor was beautiful, a true work of art.
It had been forged by Goblins and gifted to Gwaine when he'd come of age. The blade was made of silver while the hilt was finely casted gold embedded with rubies. The name 'Gryffindor' ran down the face of the blade, as far as Harry knew it'd been added later when Gilead established the family name. He could feel the magic emanating from the metal. Goblin blades only took on that which made it stronger, they were charmed to never dull, and to always remain clean. This was likely the most valuable heirloom Harry owned and he currently had the Crown of Camelot on his right forefinger.
He looked at his right hand and examined the new Gryffindor ring. It was shaped like a shield, still made of gold, and had diamonds encrusted in the band in the outline of the Leo constellation. Harry grinned at that addition but found himself missing the shape of the old ring.
At his thought, the ring reformed.
It was once again the oblong signet shape with a ruby embedded into the band and a script 'G' carved in gold, but it had retained the constellation. The diamonds were now embedded in the ruby, though Regulus stood out, etched in gold.
"Thanks," Harry whispered as the Gryffindor magic spun around him, overjoyed at the return of a Lord. He once more willed the sword into bracelet form before falling asleep with a smile on his face as Hogwarts' magic hummed in his ear.