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A/N: I do not own Harry Potter. Nor any of the Jay Ward Productions Characters mentioned herein. But you knew that.
Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones settled down at the Hufflepuff table for their breakfast when an animalistic scream echoed throughout the Great Hall.
Looking up the two girls were rewarded with the sight of their new housemate, Little Guy passing over their heads, as he swung from a vine that appeared to be attached… somewhere.
The nearly naked boy smashed face-first into the stone wall hanging there for several seconds before slowly sliding to the stone floor below.
"Ow!" Little Guy said eloquently, rubbing his nose. "Oh, hi fellas," he continues brightly when he spotted the two girls.
"Are you all right?" Hannah asked.
"Little Guy fine," he assured them, taking his seat at the table. "Walls much better for stopping than trees. Harder to miss, especially from the inside."
"Good morning ladies," Professor Sprout said as she arrived at the table, doing her level best to not comment on the boy's odd behavior. "Did you sleep well, Little Guy?" she asked.
"Like cub in den, Professor Fella," Little Guy assured her. "Plant fellas want to roughhouse, but I tell them, school come first."
"Quite," Pomona agreed, while wondering if she would ever get used to the most dangerous magical plants in the world being referred to as 'plant fellas'. "On the subject of school coming first, I have your schedules."
The older witch left the table as soon as she had distributed the sheets of parchment.
"Charms first," Susan commented, reading her schedule.
"Ch-Arms?" Little Guy asked in a confused tone, "what that?"
The two girls exchanged a look before Hannah explained, "Charms are the kind of spells that make something do things they normally wouldn't do, like making a rock fly or a feather heavy."
"OH," Little Guy said with a nod. "Enchanting. Ok, thanks Hannah Fella."
"You're welcome, Little Guy," the blonde said quietly. "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"
The boy shrugged. "Little Guy's life is open book."
"Why don't you use the name you were born with?"
Again, the boy shrugged. "Didn't know it until last month, Little Guy's Dad named me when he first saw me. Always been Little Guy."
Filius Flitwick balanced atop a pile of books, surveying his class. Somehow, this was not the way he imagined his favorite student's son would appear in his class. Clad only in a loin cloth, rather than sitting on the bench behind his desk, crouched on all fours, the boy's attention was focused upon him will all the intensity of a predator.
Filius suppressed a shudder. That look reminded him of the time in his childhood while visiting his grandmother's people in the caverns when he had happened upon a dragon guarding a vault. The boy's eyes held the same predatory look as the giant beast had.
"Welcome to Charms," he said after he finished taking the roll. "This year we will start your exploration of the most interesting of all the magical subjects. Charms allow you to bend the physical world to your will, and to make life better for those around you."
"In my classroom, I never stand on formality. Make yourselves comfortable and we will begin today's lesson.
Around the classroom, ties were loosened, and some of the more adventurous of the students put their feet up on the desktops. It was then that Filius returned his attention to… Little Guy. His mouth fell open when he discovered this oddest of students was now hanging upside-down from the rafters of the room, entangled in some sort of vine, the same intense look on his face.
That was when Filius fell of his pile of books.
Minerva McGonagall waved her wand and the newly created pig returned to its original form of her desk, all of her class notes and books still perfectly in their places.
To say she was shocked by the startled scream coming from behind her was an understatement.
"You… you… you took life with no honor!" the Potter boy said, his eyes wide in horror.
Minerva sighed silently. "Mr… Little Guy, I assure you that the animal felt no pain."
"You make life and then just send it away?" He asked incredulously. "You don't care? You show the animal no respect; you create and destroy with no concern for the life you make?"
The boy fled to the back of the room, before turning to face her. "What kind of monster do that Professor Fella? You worse than hunters who kill for skin and waste meat. You make life and vanish it without thought."
"Mr. Little Guy," Minerva said sternly, "calm yourself and think rationally. I have seen you eat meat, this was no different. And the Pig was never truly alive. It was a transfigured desk."
"No different?" the boy continued in his disbelief. "All life kill to eat, kill to live. Meat fellas, plant fellas, all life. When you eat, you show respect for life shared between the food fellas and you just as food fellas showed respect for what they ate and the respect whatever animal that eat you when your time come will show for you. And Pig Fella was alive. I still smell Pig Fella breath and spoor. I heard heartbeat, I saw life in Pig Fella's eyes. You ended Pig Fella's life without thought, without honor for Pig Fella; you waste that life when you return Pig Fella to what is less than he was."
"You monster!" the boy declared as he ran from the room.
Silence filled the classroom for several seconds while Minerva considered what Lilly's son had said and the class waited for her to react to their classmate's words.
Little Guy's excitement for his first potions lesson wasn't dimmed in the slightest when it turned out that the potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. Despite being colder than in the main castle, it was still interesting and the pickled animals in glass jars lined up along walls promised the possibility of a snack.
Potions Professor Fella, like Short Professor Fella, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at one student's name.
"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new… celebrity ."
This comment drew a few snickers from the Ravenclaws in the room, from those 'Claws who were looking to endear themselves to the professor. The rest of the class was silent, and Little Guy wondered who this Potter Fella was.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," Potions Professor Fella said. Little Guy tuned him out. This was pretty much the same speech Doctor Kilimandaro gave before his potions lessons.
"Potter!" Potions Professor Fella snapped. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Little Guy waited patiently for this Potter Fella to answer. Potions Professor Fella locked eyes with him and was obviously agreeing that this Potter Fella was a bit dim.
Potions Professor Fella’s lips curled into a sneer. "Perhaps fame doesn't indicate intelligence…"
Little Guy nodded enthusiastically. This Potter Fella was being very rude, not bothering to answer the Potion Professor Fella's questions. Dr. Kilimandaro would never have stood for such rudeness.
"Let’s try again, Potter," Potion Professor Fella said, kindly offering the rude student a second chance. "Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
Little Guy knew this one too. Hippos horked them up all the time, though what anyone would want with a calcified ball of undigested vegetable matter the size of a dinner plate was beyond him.
Whoever this Potter Fella was, he still wasn't answering.
"So, you couldn’t be bothered to open a book before coming to class, eh, Potter?"
"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
Little Guy rolled his eyes when this Potter Fella still didn't answer. However, he had to admit that he had no idea the answer to this one. Maybe these things had a different name back home.
Suddenly Little Guy remembered. He was Potter.
"I don’t know, Potions Professor Fella," he said contritely. Potions Professor Fella, however, was not pleased.
"Pathetic, Potter," he snapped. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well?" he glared at the class. "Why aren’t any of you writing this down?"
There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Potions Professor Fella said, "And a point will be taken from Hufflepuff for your lack of preparation, Potter."
Little Guy's cheeks burned with embarrassment. Potions Professor Fella was right. He deserved the punishment, and likely more.
"Today's introductory lesson will be something simple," Potions Professor Fella said, "Something that even Potter should be able to do. You will brew a simple Boil Cure Potion."
The Professor waved his wand and the chalkboard flipped, showing a list of instructions. "Your ingredients are on the table in front of you. The potion requires forty minutes to brew, if you concentrate, you should finish in time. Should you fail, your score for the day will be a well-deserved 0."
He returned to his desk and sat down. "You may begin."
Overjoyed at the opportunity to pursue his favorite hobby, Little Guy immediately leaped from his stool and cleared out a space on the floor.
"What are you doing Potter?" Potions Professor Fella asked.
"What you said to do, Professor Fella," Little Guy said happily, as he pulled his campfire from his loincloth of holding.
Severus Snape's mouth hung open as he watched the son of the man he hated more than any other, somehow pull a blazing mass of wood from nowhere. A massive cauldron large enough for a man to bathe in followed the fire, into which the boy dumped the ingredients for his class project.
It was only when the boy produced the large mask that he wore as he danced around the cauldron, shaking rattles, whistling, blowing horns and chanting that an idea blossomed in the bitter man's mind.
He would allow the child to make a fool of himself and then expel him from Potions Class for his recklessness. It was perfect. There was no way Dumbledore could possibly protest an expulsion for cause.
The fact that the rest of the class could not tear themselves away from the Potter boy's foolishness was simply proof of the perfection of Snape's plan.
The masked child continued to dance and chant around the massive cauldron for almost seven minutes. When he stopped, he examined the standard potion dosage vial and frowned.
"Professor Fella," he said respectfully, "Is there bigger bottle?"
"No," Snape smiled in anticipation of being rid of the boy, once and for all.
"No problem," the boy said with a grin, "I think I've got one…"
Snape was more than a little disturbed by the way the boy dug around inside his loincloth for several seconds before brightening and withdrawing a glass jug that looked capable of holding at least two gallons of liquid.
It was with a certain glee the Potions Master watched the child fill the jug with the result of his idiot dancing, and brought it to the professor's desk.
"Here you go," Potter said with a hopeful grin. "Just the way Dr. Kilimandaro taught me to do it."
Snape's mouth went dry. "Kilimandaro?" he asked.
"The local Witch Doctor back home," Potter laughed. "He teaching me potions since Little Guy was Littler Guy."
The boy had been taught by Kilimandaro? The premier Potions Master in the world? Snape turned his attention to Potter's 'sample'.
This was not possible. The color was perfect. Removing the stopper, Snape sniffed, the scent was perfect.
Dipping his left pinky finger into the brew, he dared to touch it to the tip of his tongue. The taste of warm beef broth with a hint of onion. Perfect.
This was not possible. One of the laws of potions was the greater the volume, the more contaminates creep into the brew. The Potter boy had somehow produced two gallons of the Boil cure in seven minutes.
This had to be a mistake. He would have to analyze the boy's work. He would have to…
He noticed the boy staring at him hopefully, and the rest of the class looking on in amazement.
"Adequate," Snape pronounced. "You may go for the day."
The beaming boy packed his tools back into his loincloth and made his way to the door.
"Potter!" Snape called.
The boy stopped and looked back, "Yes, Professor Fella?"
"Two points to Hufflepuff for finishing first."
"Thank you Professor Fella," the boy smiled widely.
The rest of the class immediately got to work on their potions in the more traditional manner. Snape could not take his eyes off the massive sample.
He had to determine what the boy had done and how he had done it.
"Colleagues," Dumbledore said taking the reins of the Quarterly Staff meeting. "I thank you for your hard work and everything else you do for our school. I believe it is time we discuss a certain student. I have heard some very odd rumors and would like to hear how the student Little Guy is actually doing in your classes.
"He's doing fine in my Astronomy class," Aurora Sinestra said quietly. "It took him a while to get used to the northern hemisphere, and he's not a fan of telescopes, preferring direct observation, but he's concise, studious and polite in his own odd way."
"And in my class as well," Quirinus Quirrell agreed. "Polite, studious, atrocious grammar when speaking, but his written work almost seems like that of an Oxford don. At first I thought he had one of the upper forms doing his written assignments, but I actually watched his writing process during an in class assignment and it really is his own work."
"He hates me and my class," Minerva admitted. "And skives off Transfiguration class as often as he can."
"That seems so very different than the Little Guy in my class, Min," Filius said.
"I opened my first class with him by transfiguring my desk into a pig," she explained. "When I returned the desk to its original condition, he became hysterically furious, going on about the casual creation and destruction of life. He feels very strongly about this and resents me for it."
"Well, he's doing well in Herbology," Pomona said. "He knows plants and they seem to understand him. I was horrified that he was to sleep in Greenhouse 5, but those plants appear to be terrified of him," the woman's face took on an odd expression. "I don’t think I ever really believed that plants could know fear."
"And there are no problems in Charms," Filius concluded. "He's the most driven to succeed student I've ever known, and I run Ravenclaw house, so that's saying something. I just wish he would remain in contact with the ground."
"Good luck with that," Rolanda Hooch laughed. "I've never seen anyone more meant to fly than that boy. I'd pay good money to see him play Quidditch. He'll have moves named after him, I can promise you that."
"Thank you everyone," Dumbledore sighed. "Minerva, I'll have a word with the boy about your class, and since Severus was unable to attend…"
Severus Snape entered the staff room interrupting the Headmaster. The normally dapper man was a disheveled mess. Unshaven, his hair stringy and flecked with dust, his normally perfect robes were dirty and barely fitting on his oddly emaciated form. "Sorry I'm late," he mumbled. "Working on a potion."
"Not at all, Severus," Dumbledore said happily. "We were discussing Little Guy. What are your impressions of him?"
Snape slumped into an open chair and looked up at Dumbledore with a glare. "I hate him, I hate everything about him. I hate you for going to wherever he was hiding and convincing him to come to this school."
"Severus!" Minerva scolded.
"Severus," Dumbledore sighed. "You really need to get over your childhood rivalry with James Potter, and instead remember that he is Lilly's son as well."
"This has absolutely nothing to do with James Bloody Potter!" Snape thundered before calming. "I hate the boy for himself, for his bright eyed naivety, for his cheerfulness, for his insane bloody skill with Potions, for the way he appears to love and respect me."
The staff went silent at his very odd rant.
"You're saying," Dumbledore said quietly, "that he's good with potions?"
"Little Guy Potter is not 'good with potions'," Snape snarled. "He is a fucking genius who follows none of the rule of my art and despite the garbage ingredients I foist off on first years because I know that the best of them will trash their brews, his potions are fucking perfect."
"Perhaps you should use the ingredients set aside for the upper forms to see just what he can do," Filius suggested.
"No!" Snape snapped. "I didn't say his potions were very good for the ingredients used, I said they were perfect. As if they had been brewed by a master brewer with years of experience in perfect conditions with perfect equipment and the very best, impossible to obtain freshest perfect ingredients. And… and if that wasn't bad enough, he does it in a fraction of the time required, in multi gallon quantities."
"Multi Gallon quantities?" Poppy Pomfrey asked. "Is that where you got the…"
"The boil cure, the Skellgrow, the burn salve, and every other potion you've asked for this year. He made four gallons of Skellgrow in nine minutes."
"But that potion takes two weeks to produce…" Poppy noted.
"A single dose, yes, I fucking know that!" Snape barked. "He uses rattles and bells and whistles and dances around in a Merlin-forsaken mask and he out classes me in my own art without even trying." The man collapsed forward onto the table his head on his arms, and he appeared to be sobbing.
"Severus…" Dumbledore said as he put his hand on the sobbing man's shoulder.
"The… The worst…" Snape searched for the words. "The worst part is that I tried to emulate his process… I tried to see if the boy's methods would work for me. That's why I was late. We were side by side, identical cauldrons, identical fires, identical ingredients. I matched him move for move, chant for chant, rattle for rattle noise maker for noise maker. He produced three gallons of a perfect polyjuice and I produced a substance that looked and smelled like the tar Muggles put on their roads. The boy took one look… one look and he said…" the man broke down into tears again."
"What did he say Severus?" Flitwick asked gently.
"He took one look… one look… and he said… 'needs more cowbell.'"
The assembled instructors did not know what to say to that and continued to watch their colleague sob for quite a while.
"I'm not sure this is a good idea," Daphne Greengrass said as she left the castle as part of a group of first year girls.
"Relax Daphne," Susan Bones sighed. "Most of us have known each other for years, and now we're supposed to ignore each other because of the houses we were sorted into? That's stupid."
"Boy level stupid," Lavender Brown agreed. "Ron Weasley has been looking to pick a fight with Draco and Theo since the first night, all because of where they were sorted."
"You're lucky," Pansy Parkinson interjected. "None of you are betrothed to Weasley, I get to listen to all of Draco's stupid plots to ruin the Gryffindors and show the upper forms that he is to be respected."
"He does go on," Tracey Davis giggled.
"If he knew I was out for a day with Muggleborns and Half-bloods, I'd never hear the end of it," Pansy sighed, until she spotted Hermione Granger's expression. "Relax Granger; I don't share in that stupidity. My parents have business interests in several Muggle companies. I know how things work in the larger world. I have no problem with you or anyone else here."
"Why does it have to be like this?" Hermione asked.
"Believe me," Padma said. "It could be worse. The only thing the ruling elites hate more than Muggles and Muggleborn are foreigners like us."
"And we were born here, and so was our Da," Parvati added.
"That's why I want us to get together," Hannah explained. "And be friends, so maybe we won't have to deal with this kind of stupid our whole lives."
"It won't work," Morag MacDonald, said shaking her head.
"Maybe it won't," Millicent Bulstrode said quietly. "But it might, anyway, it probably won't hurt."
"Exactly," Hannah laughed. "Let that be our motto, 'it probably won't hurt'."
"There are worse goals," Su Li suggested before stopping dead in her tracks and pointing. "What is that?"
Following her gaze, the others saw a small figure being wrapped in tentacles and pulled under the surface of the Black Lake.
The group of first year girls exchanged a glance, and then as one, drew their wands and ran for the edge of the lake.
Upon arriving, they found the boy they knew as Little Guy standing waist deep in the water of the lake.
"Oh, you want more, eh?" He shouted as he dove into the water, only to surface moments later pulling a knotted mass of tentacles with him. "Little guy got you now, Squidley Fella!"
The boy stopped when he spotted the girls on the shore. "Oh, hey Fellas! Little Guy wrestling with Squidley fella, wanna join in? 10 arms, no waiting!"
"Squid have eight arms and two feeding tentacles," Hermione said without thinking, only to clamp her hand over her mouth.
"Ah, arms, tentacles, close enough for wrestling, Smart Fella," Little guy laughed before the squid freed itself and pulled him under the water again.
The boy surfaced covered in ink after the squid jetted away.
"Ha! That showed him," He laughed, then started groping around in the water, and finding what he was looking for, he began to soap himself up. "Sorry fellas, Squidley fella decided to run off for a while."
"What are you doing?" Daphne asked.
"Takin bath," the soapy boy said before dunking himself to wash off the foam. Upon surfacing he turned to show the girls his back. "Did Little Guy get all ink?"
"You got it all, Little Guy," Susan said hesitantly. "You should get out of the water before you freeze."
"Ok, Susan Fella," the boy said happily as he waded out of the water.
"You're naked?" Lavender shrieked?"
"Well, yeah," Little Guy said. "Takin' bath. Who takes bath in clothes?"
"Cover yourself!" Hannah demanded, looking away.
The rest of the girls, with the exception of Lavender, Parvati and Tracey, quickly followed her example, at least until the other girls noticed the leering trio and threw things at them.
"Don't understand," Little Guy said quietly.
He knew he had upset his friends, but was not sure how. They seemed to put a whole lot of importance in clothing. After he put a clean loincloth on, the fellas had calmed down.
"Little Guy," Susan Fella said gently, "you don't get naked around girls."
"Girls?" He asked vacantly. "What girls?"
His friends all looked at each other before Smart Fella answered. "We're girls."
"Okay," Little Guy nodded. "You fellas, girls. What girls?"
"I have brothers," the Fella who hung out with Draco Fella from the Snake Fellas' house a whole lot, said. "I think I can explain it to him so he'll understand."
"Pansy…" the big Fella from the Snake Fellas' house said cautiously.
"I'll be gentle," Pansy Fella said. "Little Guy, girls are different than boys."
"Okay," he nodded.
"You're a boy," she continued.
"Right," he nodded again. "Different how?"
She leaned forward and whispered in his ear.
"Really?" Little Guy asked.
"Yes," Pansy Fella nodded. Then she leaned forward again and whispered some more.
"What?" Little Guy shrieked. "How to you pee?"
More whispering and Little Guy jerked away in horror. "Mum is a girl?"
The conversation left Little Guy with much to think about.
A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins flicker. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.
Little Guy took all this in and wondered how the bats felt about being inside. This was such an odd holiday with giant vegetables and animals indoors; the Jungle Boy wasn't quite sure how to react to it.
As a rule, he disapproved of the whole 'in side' concept… but these folks with their cold weather did not have very many choices.
Little Guy started to reach for the platter that held lightly charred meat when he spotted the sneaky Professor Fella sprinting into the Great Hall, his turban oddly askew and an expression of terror on his face. By the time the DADA Professor reached the Headmaster, he had the attention of everyone in the Great Hall. The panting man slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll… in the dungeons… thought you ought to know."
The professor then sank to the floor in a dead faint.
The Great Hall descended into pandemonium for several seconds before Professor Dumbledore issues several noisemaker spells from his wand to bring silence.
"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"
Dutifully the Hufflepuff first years spotted and gathered around the pair of 5th years assigned to them.
"Everyone stay together," the male prefect said calmly. "We'll get you back to the dorm."
"Why troll come inside?" Harry asked Hannah as they descended the stairs to the Hufflepuff dorms.
"I don't know," Hannah said.
"They’re supposed to be really stupid," Justin added. "Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke."
The Hufflepuffs passed different groups of students hurrying in different directions. As they jostled their way through a crowd of panicked Gryffindors, Susan suddenly grabbed Hannah's arm.
"I’ve just thought… Hermione," she said.
"What about her?"
"She doesn’t know about the troll," Susan noted.
Little Guy sniffed the air, and frowned at the scent he caught, while he wondered what a 'hermione' might be.
"She must," Hannah said in a distressed tone.
"We should let someone know," Ernie announced as he surged through the crowd of Hufflepuffs toward the prefects.
Little Guy took in more of the mystery scent. "Troll not in dungeon," he said. "It above us."
"Are you sure?" Hannah Fella demanded. When Little Guy nodded, she brought her hand to her mouth. "Oh, no. Poor Hermione."
"What Hermione?" Little Guy asked.
"She's not a what," Justin Fella explained gently. "She's a person. You call her 'Smart Fella'."
"Little Guy friend in trouble?" Little Guy asked rhetorically. "Little Guy hunt!"
The Jungle Boy reached up to snag a vine that had just appeared as if to his call, and swung out of sight.
The First Years stood open mouthed for a moment. "Someone better tell the prefects," Susan said.
Hermione Granger tried to press herself into the smallest possible size, as she looked at the slobbering gargantuan move toward her, knocking the sinks off the walls with a huge club as it advanced.
She knew there was no escape. As large as it was, the creature demonstrated faster reflexes than she had ever had. Her only hope was that it might miss her if she did not move.
The huge… thing's eyes maintained a laser like focus on her, killing that hope. She was going to die.
Suddenly, the odd Hufflepuff, Little Guy, appeared between the giant… thing and Hermione, skidding to a stop in the middle of the flooded room.
" Kreegah Bundola !" the boy snarled threateningly, a long steel knife in his right hand. " Kagoda !"
Hermione blinked. Was this really happening? Had she gone insane?
Tee'Kath the troll stopped short in front of the tiny human. He blinked at the sight of a human who didn't run or scream, but who actually challenged a troll warrior.
This was unheard of. When he returned to the soup pots of his clan to tell this story, he would never be believed.
Moving to brush the defender aside with his club Tee'Kath was surprised when the tiny human leaped over the sweep of his club, and scampered up his arm, slicing deep into Tee'Kath's arm, in search of tendons. Fully focusing his attention to the human warrior, Tee'Kath swatted at the boy.
But Tee'Kath was a warrior. Blood would never deflect him from his hunt, he moved to box the human in, but the thrice damned tiny warrior was far too agile for him to isolate. Still he tried, his free arm, his club, his feet, they all were used to try to crush what Tee'Kath now recognized as a human child.
After Tee'Kath was winded, the human warrior paused, and raised his right hand to his tiny mouth, inserted two digits, took a deep breath and blew out a piercing two-tone whistle. This odd move confused Tee'Kath more than anything so far in the confrontation. Was that supposed to be a distraction? A signal for help? A weapon?
The Troll abandoned the worry that had blossomed in his mind when he raised his club once more. That was when he felt more than heard an odd sound.
A deep rumble rolled through the human's stone structure. The sound drew closer and increase in volume, then a new sound joined the first, an odd quavering sound that echoed in Tee'Kath's ears. It was getting closer.
Forgetting the human, Tee'Kath turned his attention to the wooden entrance to the chamber in time to see it explode inward, and the stone walls around it as they crumbled as a huge… something entered the room.
This new creature's eyes were tiny, red and evil. For the first time since his first hunt, Tee'Kath knew fear. A single muscular arm reached for the Troll, and a pair of huge tusks, far larger than Tee'Kath's or any troll's locked his arms to his sides. Tee'Kath found himself suddenly airborne. This experience of flight was exceedingly short, as before Tee'kath could wrap his mind around not being in contact with the ground, he found himself painfully slammed to the floor.
Howling with pain, Tee'Kath twisted and flailed to no avail. The huge beast stood over the troll's prone body and… sat down. Tee'Kath found himself barely able to breathe, and with a short bristled tail before his eyes, wagging back and forth.
What had just happened?
Hermione crawled out from her hiding place barely able to believe her eyes and in a rare incident of cross species understanding was asking herself the same exact question.
"L… L… Little Guy?" she stammered.
The boy turned his attention from the creature he had been fussing over. "You safe now, Smart Fella," he said with that easy grin of his. "Little Guy and Spot have got troll fella calmed down now."
"Sp… Sp…," she tried and failed to calm herself and swallowed noisily. "You named your elephant, Spot?"
"Elephant?" Little Guy looked around the ruined room. "What elephant?"
Hermione raised her arm and pointed at the elephant in the room. "That elephant."
"This is Spot, son of Shep." Little Guy insisted.
"Spot is an elephant," Hermione insisted.
"Are you feeling ok, Smart Fella?" Little Guy asked, obviously concerned for her mental state. "Spot is my Doggie."
"Doggie?" she asked, feeling faint.
"Oh yes!" the boy exclaimed and he turned back to his pet, who was panting happily. Scratching behind the panting pachyderms left ear he explained, "Spot's a big grey peanut loving puppy, yes he is. He's a good boy!"
Hermione's sanity stretched to near its breaking point when Spot's left hind leg began to thump involuntarily in time with the ear scratches.
This story has been marked as suitable for adult readers only.