The Other Potter: Book One

Chapter Nine: Trolls Can't Use Toilets.

[Chapter Nine: Trolls Can't Use Toilets. Edited.]

Before I could find a book explaining what Halloween was, Hermione had pulled open my bed curtains, wearing a realistic cat mask, and screamed "Happy Halloween!"

"Good morning," I smiled back at her.

I could hear the frown in her voice when she spoke, "How are you dressed already? How are you reading already? I've been up for a full half-hour and I did not hear you."

Placing a makeshift bookmark, my incomplete potions homework, into my textbook and closing it, I explained that I had been up for two hours.

"Two —" she gaped at me. "—Two hours? Why did you wake up at four-thirty?"

"I'm used to it."

She pulled off the cat mask, "How are you used to it?"

"At home, I'm normally starting my chores before five."

She looked like she wanted to say something but changed her mind, "So we have our first practical charms class, today. No more book work!"

"I thought you liked books."

"Shut up," she beamed at me, and I didn't really understand so I forced a smile in return.

We began our trek downstairs shortly after, and I was trying to brush my feral hair with my fingers. Hermione was clearly amused. She pointed her wand at my head. I squealed, flinched, and dived out of the way, tumbling down a few steps, into none other than Annabeth Pike – Head Girl.

"I'm sorry!" Hermione wailed, rushing down the steps after me.

"Hello again, Willow," Annabeth smiled, revealing all of her shiny white teeth. "I'll let you know, it isn't super fun to tumble all the way down the staircase. Last year, all the seventh-years decided they would slide down them on a sled. Needless to say it didn't end well. Madam Pomfrey tried to kill everyone for 'reckless behaviour'." She pulled me to my feet. "How are you finding Hogwarts, anyway, Willow?"

"There's a lot to learn."

"Yeah, that's pretty much how it goes for seven years. There's this constant feeling that you're falling behind, but that's normal." She walked between Hermione and I, as we descended the staircase. "There's also a series of weird things that happen here – usually involving the Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers. Last year, Professor Mulligan went all homicidal and tried to kill everyone. If it wasn't for our then Head Boy and Head Girl, we all would have died. They were brother and sister, and tougher than Hagrid."

We exited the dormitory and preceded to cross the common room and made our way, downstairs.

"The year before that, Professor Asteroid – great name – decided she was going to take over Dumbledore's job, and raise an army of blast-ended skrewts. There was this insane duel on the last day of exams. She and Professor Kettleburn had this duel, while the skrewts ran wild. So many students were injured – I got this burn —" She lifted her sleeve to reveal a massive shiny red patch on her left forearm. "— Madam Pomfrey said she can easily remove the burn, but I like the battle scar. I want to go into the Ministry of Magic to help regulate magical creatures, so I thought it was fitting. Anyway, where was I? Professor Kettleburn lost an arm, and then Dumbledore, McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick, and Snape ended up in a legendary battle against Skrewt and Asteroid. There's a painting of it on the fifth floor."

We entered the Great Hall and Annabeth grinned at the pair of us, "Anyway, so if either of you are betting people, there's a year-long inter-house betting system that goes on. Right now, we're trying to guess what Professor Quirrell is going to end up doing. There's already speculation that it's something to do with his turban – he used to teach Ancient Runes, but after a year off, where he found enlightenment, he's teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts and started wearing the Turban. It's weird. If you speak to Julia Wang, fifth year Slytherin, she's running the bets. She's the smartest kid in school, hands down, and we trust her with book keeping. There's a bet going on today about 'what will happen on Halloween?' because something weird always happens. Lee Jordan has guessed that Quirrell will make a proclamation at dinner, about how we're all heathens." She took a breath. "And, with that, I've got to run. Breakfast meeting with the prefects about uniform. Can't wait. See you!"