Revised: July 14, 2021

Ron and Hermione had never been on good terms from what Harry had observed, but their relationship had gone even more sour after their narrow escape. It didn't help that they were partnered up in Charms.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too — never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

It proved to be more difficult than Harry had anticipated, but after a few tries, he managed to get his feather to float in the air.

"Excellent, Mr. Potter!" Professor Flitwick said happily.

Ron was not having any luck. "Wingardium Leviosa!" he said, arms flailing.

Hermione put her hand on his arm. "Stop, stop, stop. You're going to take someone's eye. Besides, you're saying it wrong. It's Levi-O-sa, not Leviosar."

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

Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand, and said, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Professor Flitwick applauded for her as well, and Ron became even grouchier.

"It's no wonder no one can stand her," he said to Seamus Finnigan as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor, "she's a nightmare, honestly."

Harry rolled his eyes at Ron's words, even if he did agree she was a bit too bossy, and was nearly knocked over as the aforementioned witch walked past, tears in her eyes. "That wasn't very nice" he said to Ron.

Ron looked uncomfortable but said, "She must've noticed she's got no friends."

With a frustrated sigh, Harry headed to his next class and then to the Great Hall for the Halloween Feast. He looked around for Hermione, but she wasn't there. Instead, he overheard Parvati Patil telling Lavender that Hermione was crying in the bathroom.

He was just helping himself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, yelling about a troll in the dungeon before fainting.

Dumbledore took charge. "Prefects, lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Harry started to follow Penelope as she led the Ravenclaws to their dorms. As he was stepping out of the Great Hall, he spotted the back of someone's robes disappearing around a corner and glimpsed their red hair. Where was Ron going?

Ron ducked behind a stone griffin, his heart pounding as Snape walked by. He was heading for the third floor. But why? Suddenly, a foul stench hit his nose. Ron looked around. First thing he saw was the hulking frame, about twelve feet tall. Then the giant club in its hand. It disappeared into a room. Well, as long as it stayed in there, everyone should be safe.

He was about to turn away when he heard a high-pitched scream.

"Hermione!" he shouted, bursting inside.

Hermione was pressed against the opposite wall, her face very pale. Above her, the troll slowly advanced.

"Oi, pea-brain!" Ron yelled, throwing a metal pipe.

The troll didn't seem to take notice of the pipe, but it did hear Ron's voice. Turning, it started toward him. Hermione remained frozen, apparently too shocked to get away.

Ron pulled out his wand and said the first spell that came to mind: "Wingardium Leviosa!"

To his utter amazement, the club soared out of the troll's hand and hovered above its head. Then it came crashing back down, knocking the troll out cold.

Just in time, too, for Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell burst in.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

"I — well," Ron stammered.

"It was my fault, Professor." Hermione stepped forward. "Ron was looking for me. I went looking for the troll because I — I thought I could deal with it on my own — you know, because I've read all about them."

Ron couldn't believe she was actually lying.

But Professor McGonagall bought it and took five points from her, then added eight to Ron for taking on the troll.

The next day, Harry noticed them sitting next to each other and hoped they would be more friendly now.

Quidditch season approached, and Harry heard that Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor captain, had booked the field even more for extra practice. Everyone was growing excited for the first match.

And Harry had reabsorbed himself in his homework. He found he had no interest in Quidditch, much to many people's shock, and preferred reading.

One day, he was sitting outside in the courtyard when he caught of Professor Snape limping. He hadn't spoken to him since showing him Lily's diary, but Snape had become slightly less biased against Ravenclaw, though he still remained as strict as ever with Gryffindor. "Professor!" Harry called, standing up and running over. "Are you okay?"

Snape stopped and looked over at him. "I am fine, Potter."

"But you're limping," Harry said. "Did the troll hurt you?"

"That is none of your concern, Potter. Run along before I take points."

Reluctantly, Harry turned away.

On the morning of the Quidditch match, Harry awoke to the sound of excited chatter from his dormmates.

"I still can't believe you aren't excited for this," Michael Corner said. "I mean, it's Quidditch!"

They continued to talk enthusiastically all throughout breakfast. Harry ran his hands through his hair with a groan.

"You'll be rooting for us, won't you, Harry?" said a cheerful voice behind him.

"I'll be what?" Harry lifted his head, his hair sticking up even more than usual.

Fred Weasley stood there, beaming.

"Oh, uh, sure."

Fred beamed brighter still before turning away.

Harry followed Anthony and Terry to the top row of the stands.

As the game started, Harry had to admit it looked interesting, but not enough for him to actually want to play. Lee Jordan, on the other hand, was pretty entertaining.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor — what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too —"

"JORDAN!" Professor McGonagall scolded him.

"Sorry, Professor."

Harry tried to look like he was paying attention, but really he was thinking about Snape and his injury.

"— that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger — sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which —"

Harry snorted at that.

The game ended with Slytherin winning 210-60. Harry had a feeling Marcus Flint deliberately blocking the Gryffindor Seeker played a role in that.

Hermione and Ron pulled Harry aside afterward. Apparently, they, too, have noticed Snape's limp and have been discussing it on the days leading up the Quidditch match. "He must have tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."

"Why would Professor Snape steal the... thing?" Harry asked, confused.

"I don't know," Hermione said. "Hagrid overheard us, and he ended up blurting out about Nicholas Flamel."

Harry recognized the name, though he didn't voice this out loud. "Okay, and what am I supposed to do about this bit of information?"

"You're a Ravenclaw!" Ron said. "You should be able to find out who he is in a week at most."

"Look, Ron," Harry said tiredly, "I was already involved in one of your oh-so-bright plans. I'm not going to do anything about this. All right?"

"But, Harry —"

"No! The last thing I need to do is land in detention. If you'll excuse me..." Harry turned away, ignoring their protests.

Not a lot of changes, but I didn't feel like editing the original chapter.