Harry Potter : Bloodraven-Chapter 73: Hallows’ Eve Chaos (II) (CH - 93)

Hermione Granger had not been having a very good day. In fact, it was fair to say she hadn’t been having a good time since she first boarded the train to the magical school of Hogwarts.

When she was told she was a witch—a human born with magic—Hermione had imagined an incredible new life awaiting her. As someone who always aspired to excel in everything she did, she had set her sights on becoming the best witch Hogwarts had ever seen.

But reality had been far less kind. From her very first day, Hermione had been met with scolding or ridicule from her schoolmates and classmates. She couldn’t understand why. Whenever she noticed someone making a mistake, her instinct was to correct it. She was only trying to help, offering her advice with the best of intentions. But why? Why didn’t anyone appreciate her efforts? Why didn’t anyone like her?

Today had been no different—if anything, it had been worse. Her classmates had mocked her yet again, this time openly ridiculing her for not having any friends. The words cut deeper than she cared to admit, leaving her heart aching and her confidence in tatters. It hurt, more than she thought it ever could, a pain that lingered and refused to fade.

And during the Halloween feast, as the festive atmosphere enveloped everyone around her, she felt more alone than ever—like an outsider who didn’t truly belong. She sat quietly, watching her classmates laugh, their faces alight with joy, their voices brimming with excitement. To her, it felt like peering through a window at a world she could see but never touch, a world that felt impossibly out of reach.

She couldn’t stay there any longer. She had to get away.

Hermione ran, her steps echoing in the empty corridors. She needed somewhere to hide, somewhere she could cry without anyone seeing her. The first place that came to mind was the girls’ bathroom on the second floor. She figured it would be empty, even the resident ghost likely absent during such a festive time.

Once inside, she locked herself in one of the stalls and finally let go. The tears she had been holding back all day poured out in sobs, each one heavier than the last. The walls of the stall became her sanctuary, a place where she could release the weight of her loneliness without fear of judgment.

She stayed there, pouring out her emotions until there was nothing left to cry. The release didn’t make her feel any better—her chest still felt heavy, her heart still hollow. But as her stomach growled in protest, she decided she might as well return to the Great Hall and get some food. She was, after all, hungry.

Stepping out of the stall, she hesitated for a moment, glancing at the mirror. She didn’t want anyone to know she’d been crying. Her puffy, tear-streaked face would make it all too obvious.

Moving to the sink, she loosened the faucet and splashed cold water on her face. The chill stung, but it helped soothe the swelling. As she washed, she stole glances at her reflection. Her round, baby-fat cheeks looked even puffier now, the evidence of her breakdown plain to see. She splashed her face a few more times in an attempt to reduce the redness.

Thud.

The faint sound made her pause.

She glanced at the water pooling in the sink, rippling ever so slightly as it slowly drained.

Thud.

Her heart quickened as the sound repeated, louder this time. Something felt wrong. Very wrong.

Thud. Thud.

Each tremor sent small ripples across the water. Hermione froze, her head still bowed over the sink, staring at the ripples as dread crept up her spine. That was when she saw it—a shadow, large and imposing, falling across the white porcelain of the sink. The shadow was far larger than her small frame, and the realization sent a chill coursing through her veins.

She wanted to turn, to confirm what she feared, but terror rooted her to the spot.

Grrrrrr.

A low, guttural growl rumbled behind her, and Hermione’s blood turned to ice. She didn’t need to look to know—it wasn’t a ghost. Whatever it was, it was massive, and it was standing right behind her.

Taking a shaky gulp, she forced herself to raise her head, her eyes darting to the mirror.

Grrrrrr.

The reflection was monstrous. A hulking, green-skinned creature towered behind her, nearly reaching the ceiling. Its thick arms flexed as it gripped a mace that looked more like a giant, spiked log—easily two times her size.

Her breath hitched. As she stared, the monster raised its mace, the heavy weapon poised to strike. If that blow landed, she knew she wouldn’t survive—it would be a messy, brutal end.

Pure instinct took over. She ducked, her small body moving faster than the creature could react, and bolted back into one of the stalls.

BOOM!

The deafening crash of the mace striking the sink echoed through the bathroom, shards of porcelain flying everywhere. Hermione barely made it into the stall, slamming the door shut behind her. To the monster, she was nothing more than a scurrying mouse—small, quick, and annoyingly hard to catch.

Hermione pressed her back against the stall door, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. She clamped her hands over her mouth, trying to muffle her ragged breathing as the heavy thuds of the monster’s footsteps drew closer. The wooden door separating her from the monster felt far too thin, and every instinct screamed at her to keep quiet and stay still.

Boom!

The monster’s mace struck the stall next to hers, splintering wood and sending shards flying. Hermione flinched as the sound reverberated through the tiny space, her entire body trembling. The creature growled in frustration, the sound like grinding boulders, and she could feel the vibrations in the floor beneath her.

Her mind raced. What could she do? She had her wand, but she hadn’t learned any spells that could help in a situation like this. Panic clawed at her thoughts as she wracked her brain for anything, anything that might save her.

Running was useless. The monster was too big, too strong. Her only chance was to stay hidden and pray it lost interest.

But the monster wasn’t giving up.

BAM!

The mace struck again, this time hitting the stall door directly. Hermione screamed as the impact sent cracks spidering across the wood. The entire structure shook, and she scrambled backward, pressing herself into the far corner.

"Think, Hermione, think!" she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the creature’s snarls. She scanned the tiny stall, searching desperately for anything—anything—that could help her. Her eyes landed on the toilet, an idea sparking in her mind. It was insane, but it might be her only chance.

Another crash. The door splintered further, and she could see the creature’s monstrous hand gripping the edge, pulling it apart as if it were made of paper.

Without hesitation, Hermione climbed onto the toilet seat, her small hands gripping the tank for balance. Holding her breath, she reached up to the overhead pipes, her fingers brushing against the cold metal.

The monster let out a deafening roar, and with one final smash, the stall door was gone. The monster stepped forward, its bloodshot eyes locking onto her tiny figure perched precariously above the toilet. It grinned, revealing jagged yellow teeth, and raised its mace once more.

"Come on, come on," Hermione muttered, her fingers fumbling with the pipe. It was loose—she could feel it. She yanked with all her might just as the monster swung.

The mace crashed into the toilet below, shattering porcelain and sending water spraying everywhere. At the same moment, the pipe came free with a metallic groan, and Hermione clutched it like a makeshift weapon.

She leaped down, water splashing around her feet, and swung the pipe with all her strength at the monster’s knee with a loud thud.

For a split second, everything went quiet. To the monster, it was nothing more than a small tap, like a needle prick. It didn’t even flinch.

Hermione gulped, her body trembling as she slowly raised her eyes to meet the creature’s gaze. Its grin spread wider, its jagged teeth gleaming as it prepared to crush her.

Panic surged through her veins. She couldn’t fight it. She had to run.

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Without a second thought, Hermione darted to the side, her legs carrying her as fast as they could, but the ogre was quicker than she expected. It swung its mace horizontally, smashing through the stalls and toilets in one swift motion, destroying everything in its path.

Hermione ducked just in time, but the debris—wood, ceramic, and broken fixtures—pelted her from all sides. Pain flared across her body as jagged shards of wood and other debris tore into her, some even piercing her skin.

It would have been excruciating for anyone, but the surge of adrenaline flooding her system dulled the pain, making it more manageable, though it was still sharp and agonizing.

She staggered to her feet, gritting her teeth against the fire in her body, and crawled backward until her back hit the cold, unforgiving stone wall. Her clothes were soaked, drenched in a mix of blood, sweat, and water from the broken pipes above. Her hair was a tangled mess, some strands falling across her face, sticking to her skin.

But she hadn’t given up. Breathing heavily, Hermione scanned the ruins around her, her heart sinking. There was nothing but destruction. No escape. No one to help.

She was just a first-year, still struggling to grasp the basics of magic, with no offensive spells in her repertoire. She had no other skills, and physically, after that desperate stunt earlier, she knew she was no match for something this monstrous.

She might as well die trying. Maybe, if she died, people would remember her as brave, not as the nuisance she felt like now. At least they would say she faced the beast head-on, without running, without fear. Perhaps that would be enough to make her feel like her life meant something.

The thought was a bitter comfort. The tears that welled up in her eyes didn’t fall. They hovered, but nothing came.

Thud. Thud.

The sound of the ogre’s footsteps grew louder, and Hermione’s spine stiffened. It was closing in on her. She could hear the dragging sound of its mace against the stone, and the growls of satisfaction as it prepared to finish what it started.

She was running out of time.

Shakily, she reached into her pocket, pulling out her wand. It felt small and fragile in her trembling hand. She forced herself to calm down, taking slow, steady breaths.

Think, Hermione. Think.

Her mind raced. What could she do? What magic could she use? Then, something clicked. Charms class.

She remembered Professor Flitwick’s lesson from this morning. She had learned how to levitate small objects using the Levitation Charm—Wingardium Leviosa. If she could just use it on the ogre’s mace, keep it suspended in mid-air long enough for her to escape… It was a crazy idea, but it was the only plan she had.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she focused on the heavy, massive weapon in front of her. It was worth a shot. She just had to make it work.

With trembling hands, she stretched out her wand, her grip unsteady as the beast loomed over her, raising its massive mace to smash her into the ground like a helpless insect.

"W—Wing... Gard..."

RROOOOOOAAAR!

She couldn’t finish the incantation. The fear, the pressure, the overwhelming presence of the beast was too much for her to handle.

The world around her seemed to blur as the beast’s growl echoed in her ears, freezing her in place. At the very last moment, she closed her eyes, surrendering to the inevitable. Her trembling form stilled as she allowed herself one final comfort—a fleeting escape into the happiest memories of this new life of magic.

First, her mom and dad. How she missed them now, their reassuring presence, their warm hugs. But in this moment, she didn’t want them anywhere near her. She couldn’t bear the thought of them in such danger.

Then there was the magic—wondrous, incredible magic. Her mind wandered to moments in class that made her heart flutter with excitement.

She remembered the deputy headmistress and head of her house, a stern but kind woman who often praised her sharp mind. And Professor Flitwick, the short, charming Charms professor who never failed to encourage her. Then, there was the Alchemy professor, Caesar. He hadn’t openly praised her like the others, but she could feel it in the way he treated her—with respect, as if he truly valued her talent. She still remembered his words: "You’ll make a fine alchemist one day."

"An alchemist, huh?" she thought, the idea bittersweet. Would that have been her future if this beast wasn’t about to end it all? If only she had more time…

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Author’s Note:

Just a quick update — up to Chapter 126 is already available on P AT r30n!

PAT r30n [.] com / RyanFic