Toil and Trouble Chapter 13 : Of Traitors, Trolls and Good Boys - Part 2 of 3 (A Harry Potter fanfiction)

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Hermione emerged from the tunnel into the lower levels of the Slytherin Tower, breath still uneven from the long walk and the night’s terrors. The stairwell wound upward in polished green stone, torches flickering awake as they sensed her presence.

She had reached the first floor landing and there he was. Draco Malfoy, with one hand pressed to his temple, blond hair disheveled, robes dusty from being dragged behind the suit of armour. His wand arm twitched irritably, and his jaw clenched as he muttered under his breath.

He had clearly just awoken from her Petrificus Totalus. And he looked furious.

The moment his eyes landed on her, his expression twisted into pure rage. “YOU...!”

Hermione walked forward before he could spit out whatever insult was brewing.

Her voice was icy and trembling with fury.
“Do you have any shame, Malfoy?”

Draco’s mouth snapped shut. He blinked. He had not expected that.

Hermione stepped closer, refusing to be intimidated. “Harry, Ron I were attacked by a Troll in the forest. A Troll! We could have died.”

For the briefest second, less than a breath, Draco’s expression faltered. Something flickered there.

Was it a jolt of guilt? Fear? Recognition that his plan, petty and cruel as it was, had veered dangerously close to real disaster?

But then, with practised ease, he smothered it.

His face hardened. “Shut up, Granger! You’ll pay for what you did to me. Stunning me? Dragging me like some...some sack of cauldrons? You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

Hermione’s eyes were cold steel. “Oh, I know exactly what kind of trash I’m dealing with.”

Draco bristled, lifting his chin.

Hermione let her next words drop like lead.

“You see Malfoy, I know you acquired Angel Root. I know you had it planted on Harry. I know what you intended to happen tonight.”

For once, Draco had no comeback.

Hermione’s voice sharpened to a whisper.

“Keep my secrets, Malfoy,” she said, eyes locked on his. “And I’ll keep yours.”

The air between them crackled with something dangerous.

Hermione didn’t wait for an answer. She simply walked past him and ascended to the third level.

Draco remained frozen on the landing, jaw tight, eyes shadowed with something complicated he would never admit.

Hermione changed into her bed clothes and climbed into bed ad soon as she entered her room. The night had been long, terrifying, and nearly fatal.

And yet, it ended with her having made two new friends. She went to sleep with a smile on her face.

---

THE DAILY PROPHET

London, Monday, 1st November 1993

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN: ORDER OF THE PHOENIX MAKES EXTRAORDINARY CLAIMS

By Belvina White, Special Correspondent

In the early hours of Monday morning, a dramatic attempted robbery at Gringotts shook the Wizarding Bank. According to official statements from the Goblin Council, a human intruder and two accomplices breached the lower vault corridors, resulting in one death and extensive damage to subterranean passages.

The Order of the Phoenix has since put forward a sensational explanation, alleging that the intruder was Quirinus Quirrell, a former researcher for the Department of Mysteries of the Ministry of Magic, who, if the Order is to be believed, was "possessed" by none other than He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

The Order members present at Gringotts included former Auror and Hogwarts Professor Alastor Moody, Ministry employee Arthur Weasley and his wife Molly, former Azkaban inmate Sirius Black and known Lycanthrope Remus Lupin.

The Order further claims that Quirrell “died by his own hand” in the depths of the bank after being thwarted by their members. No independent witnesses have been produced to corroborate this extraordinary story, and officials from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement have stated that they have not yet been permitted to examine Quirrell’s body.

Gringotts’ spokes-goblin, Azka Shardline, confirmed that Rakkmor Emberclaw, the goblin in charge of the bank's security, accused of aiding the human intruder, was sentenced yesterday to life imprisonment in the Black Pits - the subterranean penal facility under the control of the Goblin Council. Sources within the Council report that only the personal intervention of Albus Dumbledore prevented Emberclaw from receiving the traditional sentence of execution.

Dumbledore asserts that Emberclaw acted under duress and “provided valuable assistance” in stopping the alleged plot to steal the Philosopher’s Stone. A claim the Council has not publicly verified.

Complicating matters further, Nicholas Flamel and his wife Perenelle Flamel have announced that they will be destroying the Stone, though some question the timing of this decision.

While the Ministry has neither confirmed nor denied the Order’s version of events, several senior officials privately expressed unease at “the increasing pattern of vigilante interference” by the Order of the Phoenix.

For now, the wizarding public is left to sift through conflicting accounts, unanswered questions, and a growing sense that the truth behind the Gringotts incident remains stubbornly out of reach.

---

November 1, 1993. Hogwarts Great Hall

The chatter of the Great Hall was a distant hum as Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and Percy pushed back from their plates. Each of them had read the Daily Prophet article this morning, and the words had left them with more questions than answers. The fact that Ron’s older brothers were willing to sit with him and Harry at the First Years table showed just how deeply affected they were.

“Come along,” Professor McGonagall said firmly, appearing beside them. Her sharp eyes softened for a moment as she glanced at each of the boys. “Headmaster would like to see all of you."

The five children followed her through the corridors, the echo of their footsteps mingling with whispers from the moving portraits. Finally, they reached the tall oak doors of Dumbledore’s office. McGonagall knocked once before pushing the doors open.

Inside, the Headmaster’s office smelled faintly of lemon drops and old parchment. Dumbledore rose slightly from behind his desk, a reassuring smile on his face.

“Ah, all of you,” he said warmly. “I know the Prophet has caused some confusion this morning. You have questions, no doubt.”

The children all nodded eagerly, the tension in their shoulders betraying their anxiety.

“I can allow you,” Dumbledore continued, “to speak directly with your families. They can tell you, as much as is safe, what truly occurred.”

They all felt a spark of relief.

“They are waiting for you at Grimmauld Place", said Dumbledore.

The green flames of the Floo Network enveloped them, and moments later they were standing in the dimly lit sitting room of 12 Grimmauld Place. Molly and Arthur Weasley were there, along with Sirius and Remus. Harry immediately noticed the bandages on Sirius’s arm and the tension in the adults’ faces.

"Sirius!", he exclaimed, "are you hurt?"

"Just a slight burn, kid", Sirius said with a warm smile, "nothing to worry about."

Molly’s eyes softened when she saw them, and she beckoned them closer. “Come sit down, dears. All of you. There’s much to explain."

Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and Percy all sat on the large and comfortable chairs, eager and apprehensive.

Molly began, her voice calm but firm. “What the article says is… well, not the whole truth. Quirinus Quirrell was indeed under Voldemort’s influence, but he did not act alone. Peter Pettigrew and a group of wizards from Knockturn Alley tried to break into Gringotts. Their aim… was to steal the Philosopher’s Stone.”

Ron’s eyes went wide.

“Thankfully, we were able to stop them, and the stone is safe."

Percy raised an eyebrow. “But the article said Quirrell committed suicide?”

Molly nodded. “That is partially true. Quirrell drank an explosive potion, then used an Incendio on himself." She paused, as though trying to choose the appropriate words, "doing so, he ended his own life. But he did this because Voldemort commanded him to. You see, Voldemort had taken possession of Quirrell's body and made him destroy it, sp that he could escape. Unfortunately, we failed to capture Pettigrew, as Voldemort took his valuable servant with him.”

Harry asked, “And the Goblin Emberclaw? The article says he’s in prison for life.”

“Correct,” Molly said. “The Goblin Council insisted on punishment, but Dumbledore interceded, arguing that Emberclaw’s cooperation laid the dark lord's plans at nines. Besides, he was under the Imperius Curse and cannot be held responsible for his actions. But the Goblin Council just isn't very forgiving when it comes to such matters. So, be will remain imprisoned in their system”

Sirius leaned forward, voice quiet but intense. “What you kids need to know is that Voldemort had an almost perfect plan to return, but he failed. However, he has escaped along with an ally. So it stands to reason that he may.... probably will, try to return again."

Harry knew that part of the reason Voldemort’s plan had failed was because of his dreams. The way Sirius was looking at him, told him that he and Remus would talk to him about it. Just not at the moment.

Remus added, “The details in the Prophet are misleading. The Order did its duty. But the story has been twisted to make it seem like we can’t be trusted. You must understand - not everything printed is the truth.”

Arthur's eyes softened as she looked at Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and Percy. “You must also understand… danger exists in the world beyond Hogwarts. But you were safe in this instance, because we acted in time. That is what matters most. And as Sirius said, those whole incident proves that Voldemort is making attempts to come back. So please children, be careful. There's no need to panic, just be mindful of your surroundings".

The children absorbed the information, relief and lingering disbelief mixing in their expressions. Harry glanced at Ron, Fred, and George, then at his father figures. For the first time that morning, the weight of uncertainty lifted slightly.

Ron muttered, “Still… the Prophet’s article nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Fred and George nodded in agreement, while Percy just furrowed his brows.

Sirius chuckled despite the burn marks, “They never print the full story, Ron. You’ll get used to it. But today, at least, you know the truth.”

Harry felt a warmth of reassurance spread through him. With the adults here, strong and ever vigilant, the chaos of the morning began to make sense.

---

November 1, 1993. Slytherin Tower

Hermione’s mind raced through multiple throughts at once as she left her dorm room to go to the library. Ever since reading the article about the Gringotts break in, she'd wanted to speak to Harry and Ron. During lunch, she'd considered going to them, but the way Harry and the Weasley brothers sat huddled together, she felt as though she would be intruding. Thankfully, Slytherin and Gryffindor had had potions together, and after class she'd been able to ask Harry if he was OK. He'd assured her that he was. She'd agreed to join him and Ron later when they'd go to see Hagrid.

She was just wondering if she'd get to see Fluffy again, when her path was blocked at the archway that formed the entrance to their floor. Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, and Tracey Davis, and another girl she did not know surrounded her. Pansy’s painted smile was sharp and mocking.

“Well, well,” Pansy sneered, "If it isn't the Mudblood bookworm! Do you think being in a Transfiguration competition will make you any less… filthy?” She leaned closer, her voice dripping disdain. “And those freckles. Honestly, how disgusting! Do you even know how to wash properly?”

Millicent, Tracy and the other girl giggled annoyingly, leaning into the harassment.

At that moment, Draco Malfoy and his cronies strolled past, catching Pansy’s words mid-spit. A snicker passed among them. Malfoy’s eyes flicked to Hermione.

Hermione didn’t even flinch, her brown eyes never left Pansy.

“Malfoy,” she said, sharp and cold. “Do you know how I found out about your plan?”

Malfoy stopped in his tracks and turned around to face her.

“Your inbred mutt,” Hermione continued, gesturing at Pansy. The other girls stiffened. “Let her tongue wag a bit too far.”

Hermione looked at Malfoy, “I heard her loudly bragging to the others about your brilliant scheme. How you planned to get Ron and Harry expelled."

Looking at Parkinson again, she added, "You might want to consider putting a muzzle on it.”

Hermione then turned on her heel, her robes swirling behind her, and walked away, leaving the girls gaping.

Malfoy’s face twisted into a snarl. His rage was apoplectic, as he thought of all the planning and Galleons that had gone into his scheme to get rid of Scarhead and the Weasel. He'd even promised him parents that he was doing something that would make them proud. He was so excited to tell them that he'd rid Hogwarts of Harry Potter and a Weasley. But now....

He could only imagine his father's disappointment. And all because this useless chit just couldn't keep her mouth shut.

“Pansy,” he hissed, his voice low and deadly, “do you have any idea what you’ve done? No, of course you don’t. You’re an idiot. A babbling, brainless idiot.”

He stepped closer, towering over Pansy, “Did you enjoy bragging to these sheep?", he asked gesturing at her friends.

Pansy opened her mouth, but he cut her off.

"Did it make you feel clever? Did it make you feel like you were important? Is that what you told yourself? That you're important?"

Then, louder this time, his voice ringing through the Slytherin landing: “I'll tell you what you are. You're a worthless boot-licker, just like the rest of your family. That's all you Parkinsons are good for. Licking Malfoy boots."

Heads turned, students leaning from the staircase and railings, drawn by the venom in his voice. Pansy had started to whimper as her tears flowed.

Draco allowed himself a flicker of satisfaction. They saw what he could do when crossed, and they would remember. Good.

He leaned even closer, eyes cold and lethal. “I will say this. The Mudblood is right about one thing. You are an inbred mutt. Now, If you ever cause trouble for me again, you’ll wish the Sorting Hat had thrown you anywhere else but Slytherin!”

Pansy’s friends were shocked but didn't dare intervene, lest Draco Malfoy’s wrath be turned on them.

"Nod if you understand", Draco spat.

Pansy nodded, utterly humiliated.

Draco then straightened, and stormed off.

Hermione had settled into her favourite spot in the library, parchment spread out, quill tapping lightly as she reread the final section of her Charms essay.

A soft voice broke her out of her concentration.

“Er... Hermione?” Padma Patil stood beside her, hugging a thin Astronomy text to her chest. “Could I… maybe ask you something? I don’t understand the bit about lunar declination shifts.”

Hermione blinked, then smiled. “Of course. Sit.”

Padma slid into the seat beside her, opening the book. Hermione leaned in and began to explain, tracing diagrams, pointing at tables, simplifying the theory into neat, digestible ideas. Padma listened, nodded, asked a few quiet questions. Her brow smoothed as understanding settled.

“Oh,” she breathed, relief washing over her. “That makes so much more sense now. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Padma hesitated, then didn’t leave.

"Is it OK, if I sit with you? Everywhere else is too crowded."

This caught Hermione off guard. She'd always studied alone, and wondered if her new friend would insist on making small talk.

Not wanting to be unkind, she said, "sure".

Padma pulled out her own notebook, set her book beside Hermione’s, and began to study. Hermione returned to her parchment.

Minutes passed. Then more minutes. They didn’t speak. Didn’t need to.

The silence between them was warm, unforced. The soft scratch of quills, the flutter of turning pages, the distant steps of Head Librarian, Madam Pince drifting between shelves, everything layered into a gentle, almost sacred quiet.

Hermione felt her shoulders relax.

This is nice, Hermione realized. Really nice.

No pressure to impress, to talk or interact in any way. Just two friends with books, existing in each other's space.

A small, unexpected comfort settled in her chest. She let herself breathe it in.

Padma glanced up at one point, caught Hermione’s eye, gave a soft smile, and returned to her reading.

Hermione smiled back.