Chapter 13
As Harry sat down for the Halloween feast, he realized for the first time since arriving at Hogwarts that he didn’t have an appetite. Today was the anniversary of his parents’ deaths, and the cheerful atmosphere in the Great Hall felt completely at odds with his own mood. The room was filled with laughter, the smell of delicious food wafting through the air, and the vibrant decorations shimmering above, but none of it seemed to reach Harry. His mind was elsewhere, weighed down by memories of a loss he barely understood.
Was the Harry described in the books able to enjoy Halloween because he didn’t know that his parents had died on this day? Or had he already learned the truth and simply managed to bury the grief beneath the excitement of Hogwarts?
“What’s up with you?” Ron asked, glancing at Harry’s untouched plate. “Why aren’t you eating?”
“I’m just not hungry,” Harry replied, his voice quieter than usual.
Seamus and Neville, sitting nearby, exchanged puzzled glances but didn’t say anything. Before the conversation could continue, the doors to the Great Hall burst open, and Professor Quirrell staggered in, out of breath and wide-eyed with fear.
“Troll... in the dungeons...” he gasped, barely able to get the words out. “Thought you ought to know.”
Panic erupted in the hall almost immediately. Students screamed, stood up, and looked around wildly as if the troll might come barging through the doors at any moment. Professors sprang to their feet, and Dumbledore’s voice rang out, calling for order, but amidst all the chaos, Harry felt a strange sense of calm. He knew what was coming. He knew exactly what he had to do.
As the prefects began herding students back to their dormitories, Harry's mind was already racing ahead. His plan was in motion, but there was still that nagging thought in the back of his head—he hoped the person he had invited was watching closely now.
The Gryffindors were being led to their common room, but Harry hung back slightly, exchanging a meaningful look with Ron. It was time.
“Hermione,” Harry whispered as they turned down the corridor. “She doesn’t know about the troll.”
Ron’s eyes widened in realization. “She’s in the bathroom! She doesn’t know!”
Without hesitation, the two of them broke off from the group and darted in the opposite direction, heading straight for the girl’s bathroom where Hermione would be. Harry’s heart pounded not from fear, but from the weight of knowing what was about to happen. He had read about it before, lived through it in his imagination countless times, but this was different. This was real, and people could really get hurt.
They skidded to a halt outside the bathroom, and Harry’s worst fears were confirmed. The troll was already inside. Its massive form loomed over the bathroom stalls, its club dragging lazily across the floor as it sniffed the air, searching for something—or someone.
Hermione stood frozen in shock, her eyes wide as she stared up at the creature, unable to move.
Harry acted without thinking. “Hermione! Move!”
She snapped out of her trance just as the troll swung its club, shattering the stall she had been standing next to. Splinters flew everywhere, and Hermione screamed, ducking just in time.
Ron, beside Harry, looked terrified but determined. “What do we do?” he asked in a panicked whisper.
Harry knew what needed to be done. “We have to distract it,” he said. “I’ll grab its attention. You go for the club.”
Ron nodded, though he looked like he was about to be sick. Harry didn’t blame him—facing a fully-grown mountain troll was hardly how they had expected to spend their Halloween evening.
“Oi! Over here!” Harry shouted, waving his arms to get the troll’s attention. The giant creature turned its slow, dull eyes toward him, raising its club for another swing. Harry dodged, rolling out of the way as the club slammed into the ground where he had just been standing.
“Ron! Now!” Harry yelled.
Ron, trembling but determined, pointed his wand at the troll’s club and shouted, “Wingardium Leviosa!”
To Harry’s relief, the spell worked. The troll’s club rose into the air, just as it had in the books. The troll looked up in confusion, its thick, brutish face contorted with frustration as it reached for its now-floating weapon. Ron gave a sharp flick of his wand, and the club dropped out of the air—straight onto the troll’s head.
The impact was enough to knock the troll out cold. It swayed on its feet for a moment before crashing to the ground with a deafening thud, shaking the entire bathroom.
For a moment, the only sound was the heavy breathing of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They stared at the unconscious troll, too stunned to speak. Hermione looked at Harry and Ron with a mixture of awe and gratitude.
“You—saved me,” she whispered, her voice shaking.
Harry tried to shrug it off, but the weight of what had just happened pressed down on him. “We couldn’t just leave you,” he said.
Ron, still catching his breath, managed a weak smile. “Next time, maybe try not hanging out in the bathroom when there’s a troll loose.”
Hermione laughed—a shaky, breathless laugh—but it was the first time Harry had seen her relax since they’d started school. And just like that, the bond between the three of them was solidified, just as it had been in the book. Only now, Harry felt it more deeply. This was real. These were his friends.
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed in the hallway, and moments later, Professor McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell burst into the bathroom, their faces a mix of horror and disbelief at the sight of the troll lying unconscious on the floor.
“What on earth...?” McGonagall began, her voice trembling with shock. “What were you three thinking?”
Harry knew what was coming—the reprimands, the scolding—but he also knew how it would end. Hermione would take the blame, claiming she had gone after the troll alone and that Harry and Ron had only been trying to help. Sure enough, as soon as McGonagall began questioning them, Hermione stepped forward, her voice steady as she lied to protect them.
By the end of it, Gryffindor lost no points. In fact, Harry and Ron were rewarded for their bravery. As they left the bathroom, Harry felt a strange mix of relief and exhaustion, now he needed wait till moring.
…
The morning owl post brought exactly what Harry had expected when he picked up his copy of the Daily Prophet. There, on the front page, bold headlines screamed across the top in large letters:
“TROLL IN HOGWARTS: DUMBLEDORE'S RECKLESS DECISION?”
By Rita Skeeter
Harry sighed deeply as he unfolded the newspaper, bracing himself for the contents of the article. Seems like Rita accepted his invitation to Hogwart Hallowen feast after all.
TROLL IN HOGWARTS: DUMBLEDORE'S RECKLESS DECISION?
By Rita Skeeter
Chaos reigned at Hogwarts last night as a fully-grown mountain troll made its way into the school, sending students and staff into a frenzy. The creature was discovered roaming the loch-dwelling Slytherins’ domain, yet—shockingly—Headmaster Albus Dumbledore sent the young Slytherins back to their dormitories in the very place the troll was found!
Even more alarming, first-year students Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger were left to fend for themselves against the creature while Professors seemed to be nowhere in sight. Though Potter and his friends are hailed as heroes for subduing the beast, the question must be asked: How did this dangerous creature get into the school in the first place, and why were the staff so slow to respond?
With security at an all-time low under Dumbledore’s leadership, one wonders how many more risks Hogwarts students will be exposed to before serious action is taken….
Article lasted for several more paragraphs but Harry already read what he wanted to know.
He felt a pang of guilt, knowing that Hermione had risked herself to protect him and Ron from punishment. And now, thanks to this article, their heroic actions were overshadowed by a thinly veiled attack on the school.
“Blimey, look at this!” Ron, seated next to him, snatched the Prophet from the table, shaking his head in disbelief. He scanned the headline with a frown, his voice rising as he read it aloud. “Troll in Hogwarts? Skeeter’s really milking this one, isn’t she?”
“Yeah,” Harry mumbled, barely listening as Hermione joined them at the table, her face a mix of concern and frustration.
As Ron and Hermione discussed the article, Harry’s thoughts drifted. The real story behind the troll incident was much more complex, and while Hermione worried about Dumbledore’s reputation and the effects of Skeeter's article, Harry couldn’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction.
The invitation he’d sent to Rita had worked better than he’d expected.
Getting the article written in the first place had been simple. Using the knowledge he’d gained from the future, Harry had written Rita a letter—anonymous, of course—with just enough tantalizing details to guarantee her interest. He’d promised her exclusive material worthy of the front page, hinting that the story she’d uncover in the Great Hall on Halloween night would be enough to make her the talk of the wizarding world.
But the Halloween feast wasn’t the only tip Harry had slipped into that letter. Alongside the troll, Harry had fed Skeeter a few other breadcrumbs,
Now, all he had to do was wait. Skeeter had the information she needed. The real question was: How fast would she act on it?
…
It turned out Rita Skeeter was even faster than Harry had anticipated. The very next morning, during breakfast in the Great Hall, Harry watched as several adult wizards and witches strode into the room, heading straight for the staff table. Recognizing a few familiar names, Harry’s heart skipped a beat. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Madam Bones, and several other officials moved with purpose, and a low murmur spread through the hall as students craned their necks to see what was happening.
Harry exchanged a quick glance with Ron. Making sure Scabbers—no, Peter Pettigrew—was safely with him, Harry shot to his feet. Every student in the hall was now watching as Dumbledore greeted the arriving officials. Harry heard faint snatches of conversation as whispers filled the Great Hall.
This was it. Time for the next stage of his plan. Harry knew this might be his only chance to provide undeniable proof, and the presence of these officials made it the perfect moment.
Seizing the opportunity, Harry bolted toward the staff table before anyone could stop him. He managed to hear Dumbledore say, “…the Great Hall is not the appropriate place for this discussion. Let us continue in my office,” before Harry, his voice laced with urgency, interrupted, “Professor! Wait!”
The adults turned to face him, startled by his outburst. Professor McGonagall, clearly alarmed, stepped forward to try and usher him away. “Mr. Potter, this is hardly—”
But Harry didn’t let her finish, he would not let himself be silenced. He raised his voice just enough so the adults could hear him but not the curious students at the tables. “There’s a strange man hiding in our dormitory!”
Silence fell over the staff table. Even Ron, who was trailing behind, looked confused. The officials stared at Harry, trying to process what he had just said. It was McGonagall who spoke first. “Mr. Potter, I don’t think this is the time for—”
But Harry pressed on, heart pounding making surre to not meet eyes of Dumbledore or Snape. “I woke up last night, and he was standing over me. He didn’t see I was awake, so I watched him... he turned into Scabbers. I mean Ron rat.”
Snape, ever skeptical, narrowed his eyes and sneered, “Potter, this is not the time for your delusional nightmares. We have—”
“Severus,” interrupted Professor Sinistra, with small smile playing on her face, “it’s the duty of every teacher to ensure the safety of our students. What harm would it do to check?”
Harry saw his opening. He glanced at where Ron stood, Scabbers in his hands… But he didn’t need to do anything because before anyone could stop her, Professor Sinistra in her usual white robe strode over, snatched the wriggling rat from Ron’s hands, and marched back toward stuff table.
“What are you doing?” Ron yelped, chasing after her, along with the rest of the Weasleys. “That’s my pet! Give him back!”
Ignoring Ron’s protests, Professor Sinistra approached Madam Bones, holding the rat up for inspection. “Madam Bones, would you care to do the honors?”
The atmosphere in the hall shifted as everyone, students and teachers alike, held their breath in anticipation. Even Dumbledore looked uncertain as he watched the scene unfold.
“Really, I don’t think…” Dumbledore began, but Madam Bones raised a hand to silence him. Her face was a mixture of disbelief and intrigue as she drew her wand. With a swift, practiced motion, she pointed it at the rat.
Ron tried once more to intervene, but Professor McGonagall held him back. “Let them proceed, Mr. Weasley.”
Harry’s heart was in his throat as Madam Bones cast a spell over Scabbers. The hall was deathly silent for a few agonizing moments. Then, with a blinding flash of light, the rat in Professor Sinistra’s hand began to change. Its tiny limbs elongated, its fur retracted, and in mere seconds, the small, trembling form of Peter Pettigrew appeared where Scabbers had once been.
Gasps filled the Great Hall. Ron’s eyes widened in shock, and his face drained of color. The entire Weasley family stared, dumbstruck, at the man who had been living as their pet for years.
Peter Pettigrew, now fully revealed, looked wildly around the hall, his beady eyes darting in every direction as if seeking an escape. But the moment he moved, wands were raised, and Pettigrew froze, trembling.
Madam Bones, her expression hardening, stepped forward. “You… you are supposed to be dead.”
Pettigrew fell to his knees, his hands shaking. “Please, it’s not what you think—”
But no one was listening to his pleas. Kingsley Shacklebolt and the other Aurors were already moving in, surrounding Pettigrew before he could make another move.
Harry’s plan had worked. Pettigrew had been exposed. His heart pounded in his chest, the adrenaline still coursing through him. He had done it. He had set the wheels in motion for Sirius’ freedom.
But as he watched the Aurors drag Pettigrew away, Harry noticed Professor Sinistra expression, for the first time she looked happy.