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Harry Potter and the Invincible Technomage
Troll in the Castle
A/N: I do not own Harry Potter. Nor any of the Marvel Comics Characters mentioned herein. But you knew that.
Harry Potter and The Invincible TechnoMage
Chapter Three – Troll in the Castle
May 9 1985:
Stark Industries Project Achilles facility
French Lick, Indiana.
The man entered the remains of the control center at a dead run. A quick glance around showed him the fire suppression system had done its job, but as the 8 hastily covered bodies showed nothing could have been done about the explosions.
“Tony!” The largest man in the room called him over.
“Has anyone determined what happened Happy?”
Happy Hogan nodded. “Yeah a facilities tour for the Achilles project, the rep from that Brit firm Grunnings and the rep from the French company Picard as well as their families. We’ve just got the security tapes on line.”
The handheld screen flickered into life. The picture blurred as the tape fast forwarded to a few seconds before the explosion that had killed so many. When the picture stabilized it showed a view of the control room. There were 2 technicians, 3 in the French companies group (Madam Trouseau, her husband and son) and 4 in the British (Mr. Dursley, his Wife, son and nephew) Tony Stark touched the controls to freeze the display.
“Happy, I count nine people on screen. We’re missing a body.
“Yeah, the Brit’s nephew. Sweet little guy, nothing at all like the rest of the family.”
The display started again. The technicians were demonstrating control room functions, when the Dursley boy jumped forward and started flipping switches and turning remote valve actuators. The tech attempted to stop the boy when the elder Dursley prevented the woman from doing so. The boy continued to manipulate the control panel. Stark froze the display again.
“Right there. The little shit just opened the feeds full open and shut down the overpressure relief system. Nine dead because that fat moron let his kid play with the controls.”
The display started again. Suddenly alarms started (the silent display showed the flashing lights of the alarms.) The techs threw the fat man out of the way and seized the fat little boy to move him. Standing next to his aunt, the tiny boy in spectacles looked around fearfully and tugged at the sleeve of his aunt, who promptly backhanded him across the room. From the area of the room where the little boy had been thrown, the display rippled, then all of the electronics in the room failed simultaneously.
“Odd, why did the display fail before the explosion?”
“I don’t know Tony, like I said we just got it back online, we had to replace…”
“Happy! Over here!” one of the Emergency Response team called out.
Stark and Hogan ran to the man. The team had lifted some of the largest pieces of debris from this corner and found a shimmering electric blue sphere of force. Inside that sphere was a terrified crying raven haired little boy.
Hermione and Padma came down the stairs looking forward to their second day of class. It would be interesting to see if the concepts Harry had shown them the day before would be useful in their other classes. Padma stopped at the foot of the stairs and gasped.
It was Harry. He was in a lotus position, floating three feet off the ground cloaked in a golden aura.
“My great grandfather does that” Padma whispered. “I didn’t think that any westerners even knew about it. It’s a meditation technique combined with magic. Only the most powerful can do it.”
“So they don’t teach it here?”
“I don’t know if any of the teachers can even do it much less teach it. Dumbledore probably, he’s a legend. But no, they don’t teach doing that.”
“Should we tell him we’re going to breakfast, or just leave him?” Hermione looked conflicted.
Padma pondered for a second. “When Great Grandfather does it he tends to lose track of time. We probably ought to tell him we’re going.” The dark haired girl approached Harry, stopping just outside of his aura. “Harry?”
The boy opened his eyes, displaying a black void.
“Harry, we’re going to breakfast. Hermione and I thought you should know.”
Harry nodded. He slowly settled to the ground, aura fading and he stood. “Thanks. I always sort of drift off into lala land when I do that.”
“What exactly were you doing Harry?”
“It’s a meditation technique Hermione. One of my teachers showed me how to use it to organize my thoughts, and to do so without emotion. He gets mad because he needs his levitation cloak to float. When we do it together, I orbit around him, tics him off something awful. I usually do it about once a week, but if yesterday was any representation, I’ll be doing it every night here.”
“What did you figure out?” Padma asked as they went down the first staircase.
“That I was an ass yesterday with Snape. He was an ass too, but I let him make me angry and I went all search and destroy on him”
“He attacked you as soon as you walked into the classroom Harry.”
“He definitely has a grudge for some reason. I did a little research last night in the library. He was a class mate of my biological parents. There was a group back then called the Marauders, and James Potter was one of them. From the descriptions they were a sadistic bunch of pranksters who would abuse anyone who they felt didn’t measure up to their standards. Professor McGonagall mentioned how much I resemble my biological father, maybe Snape and he had a history that I don’t know about. At any rate I’ve got to do something about the situation.” He smiled at the girls. “But first, I’m hungry. Mind if I join you ladies for breakfast?”
The morning class was charms with Professor Flitwick. Once again Harry found himself to be embarrassingly ahead of the rest of his class. He levitated his feather almost instantly, and coaxed Hermione and Padma through doing their own. Both the girls were capable, but really didn’t believe they could perform at the level they were capable of. Belief was as much a part of magic as any other function. As Mistress Harkness had stressed to him far too many times, if you don’t believe you can do something, you can’t.
Once class was over, he excused himself as the girls went to lunch, and headed down to the potions classroom. Make this right stupid he told himself. Winning a stupid battle that sours the entire war is dumb. Control yourself. He knocked at the door and opened it to Snape’s “Enter.”
The Potions Master was at his desk at the head of the classroom grading papers. His eyes widened in surprise when he recognized the boy at the door. “What do you want Po... Stark?”
“Professor Snape. I came to apologize for my behavior in your class yesterday. I am here to let you know that I am withdrawing my complaint to the Headmaster, and I am humbly requesting that I be allowed to rejoin your class.”
The sallow man’s eyes narrowed. “What are you up to Stark? Between your recordings and my loss of self control, you stand every chance of making your case.”
“Yes Sir. That is a probability. But what would that win me? If you remained at Hogwarts it isn’t like you would forget what I did, and our every interaction for the next seven years would be tinged by it. If you left Hogwarts, I would lose access to the man who is noted as being one of the 10 best brewers in the world. It is unlikely that whoever they could get to replace you would have your skill.”
Severus Snape continued to stare at the boy. What was his game? Albus had spent several hours making the point that Snape had gone too far with the boy. Now James Potter’s son was here apologizing to him? Would that arrogant ass have apologized for anything?
“I accept your apology Mr. Stark, and I expect to see you in class.”
“Thank you sir. I appreciate this.” The boy turned to leave, and seemed to hesitate.
“Was there anything else Mr. Stark?”
“Yes Sir. I’m just not sure that my asking would be appropriate. May I ask a question about our class?”
“You may. I will let you know if it is appropriate.”
“Thank you Sir. I was wondering why you took such an immediate dislike to me. I’m told that I bear a strong resemblance to my biological father. Is that the source of our conflict?”
Snape hesitated, then replied, “I am ashamed to say that it might be Mr. Stark.”
Harry nodded. “When I was trying to understand what happened yesterday I dug into the library, where I found that you and my biological parents were classmates. I also found references to a group of pranksters known as the Marauders, which had my biological father as a member. These ‘Marauders’ were reputed to be vicious in their ‘pranks’, and I assumed that you were the victim of their ire.”
“I am not James Potter, Sir. I have no memories of the man. I hope we can get through this, so that I can learn from you. When would you like me to report for the detentions sir?”
“I believe we will be forgetting about the detentions this time, Mr. Stark. Perhaps it will be best if we start fresh in the next class. And your Muggle device?”
“I was thinking that I should have cleared the uses of my Datapad with you before bringing it to class. I believe I can chalk it’s destruction up to an accident. Am I correct to assume that you would prefer I not bring my spare to class?”
Snape paused. The boy had a ‘spare’ unit of a device that cost 14,000 galleons? He was capable of writing off such an amount? “Actually, I had an interesting conversation with Professor Flitwick on the potential of your device. I was thinking that it might be interesting what you might be able to do with it in potions. You had best get to lunch Mr. Stark. You will need your wits about you in the green houses.”
“Yes Sir. Thank you for your time.” Outside the door, Harry leaned against the wall of the corridor and wondered if he had repaired the situation between Snape and himself or made things worse.
At his desk, Severus Snape reflected on what had just happened. The boy was most specifically not James Potter. Nor was he anything like Lilly. Perhaps it would be wise to treat the boy as if he had just fallen from the sky. Albus, at least, would be pleased.
“He forgave me Padma. Life is good.”
“Forgave you? He attacked and insulted you.”
“And I responded like a pavlovian dog. I have to be better than that.”
“I don’t understand why you backed down after yesterday. You had won.”
Harry took out a Muggle notepad. “Look.” He drew stick figures of himself and Snape. “I carry out with my threats. He gets a reprimand, I’m still in his class, but he’s wary of doing anything TO me. BUT.” He added stick figures with Rs on them, “Every other Ravenclaw in the castle is now a target. There are ways that someone in a strong position can destroy someone in a weak position without actually doing anything to the actual person.” Harry took a drink from the goblet in front of him. Pumpkin juice? Vile stuff. He switched to water to get the taste out of his mouth. “This way, I’ve apologized to him, mentioned that I’ve discovered that my father was a contemporary of his in school, and hoped aloud that James Potter having been an ass to him isn’t going to interfere with his teaching me to brew potions in his inimitable way. I stroke his ego, talk bad about someone he obviously dislikes, and ask him for forgiveness. He was surprised, and gave his forgiveness. To test if he meant it, I asked when I should report for detention, he told me we would have a fresh start in the next class. Bingo, Bango, Bongo, the problem is, if not solved, then at least managed. After all, he IS one of the premier potions brewers in the world. If this works, and I can keep my temper under control, then we get to learn from one of the best, with only minor conflicts.”
Hermione looked shocked. “That’s so calculated. Did you plan this from the beginning?”
“No, I got angry yesterday and was stupid. Today I did damage control. I learned this watching my dad. In business he says it’s important for the other guy to not actively hate you, and anything that you do to make him not hate you is good business. That philosophy just seemed to fit this situation perfectly.”
“Well hurry up and eat oh Master Manipulator” Padma laughed at him. “Herbology starts in 15 minutes.”
Herbology was a class where Harry started on a par with the rest of the class. Madam Harkness had never covered it, explaining that it was too resource intensive for a single student and tutor to cover effectively, and that if he needed or wanted to learn it, the subject was amply covered in any formal school of magical instruction.
Professor Sprout (Sprout. A teacher of plants named Sprout. That was almost a bad joke. Of course the Arithmancy teacher was named Vector(!)) Professor Sprout was a large woman with wild hair who was very serious about her plants. The class was fast paced, intensive, and fun. It was also dirty. Harry found it amusing that a part of him enjoyed that most of all.
After Herbology (and a quick shower) it was time for dinner. The meal was excellent as usual, the three friends dawdled over their deserts, joking and having a good time, when Harry was approached by three boys.
“No, Stark. And you?”
“Cool name. Family name or your parents fans of astronomy?”
“Family tradition on my mother’s side. I wanted to talk to you about your place in Pureblood Society. I can help you Potter.”
Ooh ooh. One of those. “My name is Harry Stark, has been since I was 5 years old. I’m not sure I qualify for ‘Pureblood Society’ seeing as I would be classified as a half-blood.” He winked at Hermione. “I guess I should have been more careful choosing parents.”
“True, you aren’t a Pureblood, but your children will be, assuming of course you marry properly.”
“Ok,” said Harry. “Pull up a chair; tell me the advantages of being a Pureblood.”
Draco looked startled, and then sat down. Neither boy notice the attention paid them by the Headmaster and their heads of house.
“Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle,” said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking.
“Hey fellas, cop a squat. Let’s brainstorm this thing.” Draco Malfoy looked at him oddly.
“Purebloods are the superior faction of Magical Britain due to our breeding. We are superior in magic, superior in Quidditch, superior in business. It’s all self evident.”
“Wow.” Harry was smiling. “That’s impressive. How far back can you trace your magical lineage?”
“Over 500 years.”
“That’s a long time. Is that all branches or just the Paternal line?”
Draco was stumped by that question, he didn’t know. “The Paternal line most certainly, my mother is from the Black family, an ancient house.”
“Cool. So that put’s your mother’s line at a thousand years or so, but Paternal is what you knew off the top of your head, so that’s the important line. Padma here has a demonstrated pedigree going back 5000 years in every branch. I guess that makes her superior to you, right?”
“But I thought that you were saying that Purebloods were superior? If that’s true, then the longer a line runs, the more pure the line becomes. If your 500 years of purity makes you superior to anyone else, based on that alone then Padma having ten times as much purification must be superior to you, based on that alone. Q.E.D.”
Draco didn’t go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.
“Ok, let’s ignore the levels of blood purity for a moment. You said purebloods were more magical. Hermione? Show Draco what you were doing with your plate.”
Hermione nodded. “Ok Harry” with a swish and flick of her wand, the plate rose from the tabletop and hovered for a second, then orbited around the group before settling back down to the tabletop before Harry.
Harry pushed the plate toward Draco. “Your turn.” Draco stared at the plate for a second then glanced up at Hermione. “Hermione’s a first year like us. She’s a first generation Witch, first in her family.”
“You mean mu… Muggle-born.” Offered Goyle.
“No, I don’t like the term ‘Muggle. I mean why start insulting people right out of the gate? The proper term for the general population should be Normals or Mundanes. Perfectly descriptive without being insulting.”
“Are you saying that wizards are abnormal?”
“Draco, there are more than 6 billion… sorry, I keep forgetting the Brit numbering system, 6 thousand million people on the planet, a very minor fraction of them are magic users. Yes. Wizards are abnormal, in that aspect. There’s nothing wrong with the word, it doesn’t mean inferior. Anyway, can you do what Hermione can do?”
Draco pulled his wand. The plate quivered on the tabletop, rose about an inch, and then fell back down.
“From my point of view, magic has nothing to do with your breeding; it has to do with a lot of different things. Some people have a lot of natural talent, others study and practice and get through on old fashioned hard work. I’ll let you in on a badly kept secret. The most powerful magic user on the Earth isn’t a wizard. He’s a Mundane who grew to adulthood with absolutely no magic, and after an accident discovered a kind of magic that allow him to heal himself, after years of study he has become the Sorcerer Supreme of Earth.”
“That’s impossible. My father says that Muggles are backward weaklings.”
“Draco, that’s silly. You’ve been here as long as I have, have you seen any stupid weaklings among the first generation witches and wizards? I haven’t. I look around this place and I see people, some jerks, but mostly nice people, all of whom can use magic. This is great. As far as what your dad has to say, it could be that he’s never really met all that many Mundanes, just ask him if he’s ever heard of Stephen Strange, he’s the most powerful magic user I mentioned before.”
Draco was looking confused, and a little upset that his point wasn’t being made. “Draco, guys. Hermione, Padma and I have been talking about forming a study group open to all the houses, would you guys like to join in?”
The three Slytherins were surprised at the invitation; they shared a glance before Draco spoke. “That might be fun. We would have to see how it fits with our schedules…”
“I’ll drop you a note when we have the times firmed up.” Harry promised and watched smiling as the trio moved away.
“Why did you do that Harry?”
“What better way to subvert a bigot Padma? It’s hard to hate someone when they help you with your homework. When you find out she is at least as smart as you are, actually bathes and looks pretty cute when she chews on the nib of her quill…”
Padma blushed and pulled the quill from her mouth.
“Thank you Hermione. No I’m serious. He came over here convinced that you two weren’t really human, Padma because she isn’t white, Hermione because she is a first generation witch, I twisted his little beliefs right back at him, with his own arguments. If he joins us, he’ll either have to redefine his beliefs or be the biggest hypocrite since ever.”
“Why didn’t you use yourself as an example?”
“Because he was trying to recruit me. I was letting him know I hang with my friends.” He smiled at them. “You guys, Susan and Hannah, Neville, you’re the important ones to me.” He frowned for a moment.
“What’s wrong Harry?” Hermione asked.
“I was just thinking. It’s Neville and me, and you four girls. That’s not right. Oh well, only one thing for it.”
“What’s that Harry?”
“We’ve got to find more girls. Hey Padma, your sister’s kinda cute…”
Hermione looked to Padma.
“He thinks he’s funny.”
“Yes he does. He wants to do the Twins joke.”
“There’s only one solution for this.” Hermione admitted sadly.
“Yes. We will have to hurt him, badly.”
Hermione woke slowly. Saturday morning. Her birthday. She wasn’t surprised at all that she was feeling a little down. This was her first birthday away from her parents. She rose and made her way to the (thankfully empty) bath, and treated herself to a long hot shower. Returning to her room, she dressed, then dug out this week’s letter from her parents, along with the small package labeled “Happy Birthday!” Not having access to any of the normal Wizarding postal facilities, and not having the time to deal with an owl, the Grangers had pre-written a letter for each Saturday until the Christmas Hols, and would write letters weekly to send on return flights with the school owls that Hermione used to send news home, still for a girl used to having Mum and Daddy around all the time, it was very hard to get used to being away from them.
Reading the letter first, she read her parents words of love and understanding. She then opened the small package and found a lovely golden heart on a chain. Her mother always knew what jewelry she liked. Hermione quickly fastened it around her neck. She then made her bed and straightened her room, then descended the stairs to the common room.
Would her friends know it was her birthday? There had been a discussion at the beginning of the term about dates of birth to determine who was the oldest. Hermione was the first to turn twelve. It was time to offer the wisdom of her years to the children. She smiled to herself.
When she entered the common room she heard the strangest sentences said to her in her entire 12 years of life:
“Yarr! Avast there Cap’in Granger! Heave yer self o’er here to receive your booty! Yarr!”
Sitting at one of the tables with several wrapped packages were Harry and Padma. The pair was dressed in outlandish outfits. White shirts with puffy sleeves, eye patches and black tricorn hats with skull and crossbones on them.
“What are you loonies doing?”
“Yarr! Ye wound us Cap’in” said Padma.
“Yarr! Here we be, yer loyal crew, with offering of booty to celebrate yer birth, and ye be callin’ us loonies? Cut to the quick we are. Yarr!” Explained Harry helpfully.
“What is all this?”
“Yarr! This, Cap’in, be International Talk Like a Pirate Day, so Bo’sun Padma and I figer, why not celebrate the Cap’in’s birthday as Pirates? Yarr!”
The corners of Hermione’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Alright then. Hand over me booty! Arrr!”
“Not ‘Arrr!’ Yarrr!”
“Whatever. Presents. Now.”
The largest of the boxes had her very own pirates outfit, shirt, eye patch, and hat. From Padma she received a scarf that she immediately tied around her neck.
“No Cap’in, that there scarf goes on yer’ head!” Padma took the scarf from her and placed it on Hermione’s head to hold her hair back out of the way.
From Harry she received a small stuffed parrot to go on her shoulder as part of the pirates theme and a pair of gold hoop earrings.
During the silliness of their dressing up and their gifts Hermione’s mood immediately lightened. The Pirate trio made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast, just being kids, calling “Yarr!” every few meters. They found their seats in the Great Hall and enjoyed their breakfasts. The Weasley Twins third years from Gryffindor house actually came over to discover what they were doing and why, they like the idea so much that they too were soon in eye patches proclaiming “Yarr!” to everyone in sight.
Harry and Padma kept it up all day and into the evening. Many if not most of the first years joined in at some point during the day. Several joined them on the lake for mock battles with the giant Squid. Perhaps most disturbing of all was when Dumbledore was spotted wearing a lavender eye patch and holding a faux hook in his hand. Who knew the Headmaster would be a fan? Finally at 10 pm Hermione was almost too tired to keep her eyes open. She stood and pulled Padma into a hug. “Thank you.” She then leaned down to kiss Harry on the cheek. “You made my birthday.”
With that she headed up the stairs to her room.
“Well done Bo’sun.”
“Thank you Harry. Anyone could see she was getting more and more depressed about her first birthday away from her parents.”
“Yeah, but you’re the one who suggested we do something silly enough to shock her out if it.”
She threw a pillow at him. “Like I had any idea that a ‘Talk like Pirates Day’ existed, oh fount of useless information.”
“Ok, so we’re both heroes. Yay us!”
The Halloween Feast was in full swing. Thousands of live bats fluttered from the walls making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The food appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet. The Hall fell into a sudden hush as Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore’s chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, “Troll — in the dungeons — thought you ought to know.”
And the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor sank to the floor in a dead faint.
There was pandemonium throughout the Hall. It took several cannon blasts from Professor Dumbledore’s wand to bring silence.
“Prefects,” he rumbled, “lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!”
At the Ravenclaw table, Penelope Clearwater performed a quick headcount. The result terrified her. She rushed to the Head Table.
“Professor Flitwick, I’m short three first years. Granger, Patil and Stark.”
The diminutive professor nodded. “Escort the rest of the house to the dormitories Miss Clearwater. I will find our lost lambs.”
Flitwick made his way to Minerva McGonagall. “Min, three of my first years are missing, late for the feast it seems. If I recall they were working on an astronomy project.”
“Albus, we’ve got three missing Ravenclaws. Filius and I ware going looking for them.”
“Everyone else lets go looking for this Troll. Severus, keep an eye on Quirrell.”
The Ravenclaw Trio were heading to the Great Hall from the Astronomy Tower. “I told you that you had the stars in Orion’s belt mislabeled.”
“Yes Hermione. Thank you Hermione.” Harry sing songed. He lived for the day she was wrong. He suspected he might be in for a long wait.
“I’m amazed he labeled the Horsehead Nebula as the Orion Nebula and vice versa.”
“It’s the cross I bear hanging out with two hypercompetitive geniuses. Lucky me. I still don’t see why we can’t use a planetarium projector and do this stuff during the day instead of the dark of night missing dinner.”
“Poor baby.” Hermione mocked happily.
“Can you smell something?” Padma stopped in her tracks.
Harry sniffed and a foul stench reached his nostrils, a mixture of old socks and a summer time public toilet that no one seems to clean.
And then they heard it…grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gargantuan feet. Padma pointed toward the end of the passageway, something enormous was shuffling toward them. They shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.
It was a ghastly sight. 4 meters tall, its skin was dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was unbelievable. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.
“What is that?” Hermione gasped.
“A mountain troll. They’re vicious.” Padma said.
The troll stopped when it spotted them. It wiggled its long ears, as if making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly toward them.
“Back the way we came,” Harry muttered. “We can out run it.”
Turning they saw that the moving staircase was beginning its latest move. They were trapped.
They backed up to the wall. “Stay behind me!” Harry said. He took four paces toward the Troll. “Techsuit. Translation suite.”
The disembodied voice of the Techsuit whispered in his ear. “Translation Suite online. Language?”
“European Mountain Troll.”
There was a short pause, the Techsuit whispered. “Language module online. Proceed.”
“Hello friend Troll.” Harry said, pausing so that the Techsuit could render his words into the grunts and squawks of the Trollish language. “How might we help you tonight?”
The huge creature stopped. “Gorlog Hungry.”
“If you will follow me Friend Gorlog, I will take you to our food.”
“No. Gorlog want meat. You meat. Gorlog eat!”
“Friend Gorlog, if you attack, I will kill you. Come with me, eat of our food, we can be friends.”
The troll began its slow shamble toward them.
“Crap. Techsuit, full defensive measures, remove fatality interlocks.” The tentacles exited his robes, targeting the Troll.
“Target analysis complete. Techsuit weapons suite is not capable of termination of target. Probability of disabling target twenty percent.”
The girls shrieked as the troll got closer. “Techsuit, Engage target.”
All four weapons pods went to work. Repeated pellets of the blinding agent hit the troll in the eyes, it only served to infuriate the creature. The tazer leads rebounded off the rock hard skin, the Pulse laser couldn’t penetrate. And the repulser opened small cuts.
“Crap!” Harry said to no one. Techsuit backup target specs to upgrade file. Techsuit. Release Limiters.”
A silver sheath fell from each of Harry’s forearms. “Ladies, turn your back to me, no matter what you hear, do not turn around until I tell you to. Please, just do it.”
“Techsuit. If chaos magic attack does not stop target, self attack, destroy target using power pack discharge.”
“Understood: Self attack target if Chaos Magic attack fails.”
The troll towered over Harry, raising its club.
With a gesture Harry released the sum of his Chaos magic. It poured out of him via both arms and impacted the troll square in the chest with a deafening SQUARK!
After a few seconds of silence Hermione and Padma shared a look from where they huddled and turned around to see what was happening. It took but a glance for both of them to begin screaming.
A/N The last: Ok, I know that the International talk like a Pirate Day didn’t actually start until 1995, but it was too cute to pass up, so sue me. Besides, couldn’t you just picture them doing it?