The trolls' warning
We know what a twelve-foot mountain troll can have for effect on a sprouting friendship. But what about the troll itself? This is the story about Urgh the troll, who haunted the toilets of Hogwarts in Harry's first year, and who left the school with an important message to deliver. Characters belong to Rowling.
Urgh was afraid. He was in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar smells, and he only had unclear recollections about how he had got here, and that made him worried and uneasy. But even more so, he was afraid for It. He had only caught a quick glimpse of It, but that had been enough to stirr certain memories that Urgh, deep inside his thick skull, had hoped would be buried for good. Urgh reacted to his fear in the only way a mountain troll knows. By destroying things.
He found a promising doorway and lumbered inside, and there at last he found something to vent his anger and fear on. There was a little human girl crying in there, but Urgh didn't pay her any attention. Because from every side on the room a large troll was leering at him. He gave a battle-bawl and raised his club, but so did the other trolls. Behind him, the door closed. In front of him, the girl screamed and dived for cover as Urgh charged.
He wasn't really sure what happened after that. He had recollection of the other trolls bawling, and there seemed to be a number of small humans running around his feet. It seemed to have been a good fight, because someone had obviously got him. When he woke up he had a big bump in his already lumpy head, and his nose hurt. However, he was back his own mountain lair, and he even had fresh food by his side, so Urgh's mood was considerable improved. But even so, he couldn't get rid of a certain anxiety, so after having pondered over the problem for some time, he decided to take it to the Gurg.
The Gurg listened to his tale with expressionless face, chewing concentratedly on an old bone. After the story was finished she got to her feet and slowly and thoughtfully picked up her club. For a moment she stood in deep thoughts, then she hit Urgh hard on the head, knocking him out cold. When Urgh come to his senses again the Gurg asked him whether it really was true as he had said, that It had been seen again. Urgh grunted, which meant yes, and was knocked out cold again. This procedure was repeated a few times, and when Urgh still insisted on his story being true, the Gurg and the other assembled trolls agreed on it probably being the case.
Urgh happily went back to his cave, content with having solved the problem. The Gurg however, was worried. Her duty as a Gurg, as the largest and meanest of the trolls, was clear. When something threatening showed up that the others couldn't handle, it was she who was responsible for fighting it. The problem was that she didn't know where It was to be found, and therefore couldn't fight it. There was also the problem, the gnawing recollection, that as far as the Gurg remembered the last time It had been around - it had been bad times indeed - It had been very tricky to fight. Maybe, even, more tricky than the Gurg herself could handle.
After having roamed around for awhile, searching quite half-heartedly for It without finding it, the Gurg decided to call for help. She didn't do it willingly, since it could be perceived as a sign of weakness, but even so, she had been Gurg for long enough for knowing that there are many different ways of fighting. Some of them even don't involve clubs at all. Besides, humans are bound to be good for something, and there is not much eating on them. (Not that some trolls aren't trying it now and then.)
That decided the Gurg lumbered down to the edge of her territory and the little cabin there. The ministry wizards responsible for the troll reserve were at first startled by seeing the Gurg herself approaching - for she was indeed an intimidating sight - but when they understood that she was set for talking rather then fighting, they eagerly greeted her. It wasn't everyday they had the chance to interact with the chief troll herself. They brought up a goat for the sake of negotiating, and soon they sat crossed-legged around the fire. When they learned of the Gurg's errand, they did what they could not to laugh. With serious expressions they assured her that they would indeed keep an eye opened and spread the word. They did even thank her for warning them, but when she had left, at least moderately calmed down, they laughed heartily and made fun of the trolls' concern. One of them even scribbled down the incident as a joke and owled it to his old friend, Lovegood, who usually was interested in stuff like that.
But the news flow it not constant, and by this time the Lovegood family had personal matters to cope with. So thus comes that the trolls' warning didn't reach the pages of 'The Quibbler' until nearly half a year later.
Dumbledore paid the deliverance owl and said a few polite words to it, watching as it flew out through the window of his study. He glanced at the magazine on his desk, smiling a bit bemused at the fact that wrackspurts had resisted capture yet again, and then got a more serious expression as he read the final headline.
'You-Know-Who is gone for good, so we are told - BUT IS HE? - Trollish eye witnesses sights He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named within the walls of Hogwarts itself.'
Of course, false alarms had flared up now and then, but Dumbeldore's gut told him that this could be something more serious. Hadn't there been an attempt on the philosopher's stone already? That had Riddle's sign written all over it. Dumbledore had felt it as soon as he had heard about the incident. But the goblins didn't want to believe it, they had chosen to regard the almost successful assault on their vault as the action of a new dark wizard, or perhaps an old death eater. But trolls have good memory, Dumbledore knew, and if their lack of intelligence put them below humans in abstract thinking, it also put them above surprisingly many human lies. And as everyone else, the trolls had shared their part of the loss during Riddle's days of power. Dumbledore sighed and made a mental note, one of so many others, to look closer into this as soon as he had time, and also to look over the security arrangements for the stone. But that had to wait. Right now he was called for an unexpected meeting at the ministry, and that had to take priority.
Picking up his broom Dumbledore walked out through the window, closed it with a spell, flew off and was gone. Right underneath the quickly speeding headmaster, three first year students was this very moment learning that the secret of how to get past the three headed dog that guarded the philosopher's stone was known by a fishy stranger, and decided to take security matters in their own hands.