Troll

Harry did not remember how he had returned to the dormitory. He only remembered that Ron and Hermione seemed to have argued for a bit afterward.

He sat before the dormitory window with his knees hugged to his chest, staring blankly outside.

Moonlight flowed through the window like water, spilling into the dormitory and stretching Harry's shadow long.

"Harry?" Ron noticed something was wrong with his best friend. He had been like this ever since returning to the dormitory. Whenever Ron called him, he only responded with an absent-minded "Mm," which was deeply worrying.

Harry finally snapped back to his senses. He looked at Ron and gave him an embarrassed smile.

"Want to play Wizard Chess, Buddy?" Ron held the Wizard Chess board. "I know you're in a bad mood, but Hermione didn't mean it that way. She only looked through the books because she was interested in someone with the same name as you. She didn't bring up The Dark Lord on purpose. Who knew that matter would be right there..."

"I know, Ron." Harry nodded. His thoughts were truly a mess right now.

"How about we go sit with Hagrid after class tomorrow?" Ron asked worriedly.

"In a few days," Harry said. "Tomorrow is Halloween Eve. There's a feast in the Great Hall that evening."

"Mm, I heard the limited Halloween Pumpkin Pasties are delicious." Ron said to Harry, "If you like them, I can give you my portion."

Harry was dazed for a moment.

Back then, in this very place, in the same room, Gareth had comforted him in just the same way when he had been homesick.

Now that he had heard news of his old friend again, the other person had already passed away.

A hundred years was but an instant to him, yet to his old friend, it had been a lifetime.

"Thank you, Ron." Harry forced himself to perk up. "It's late. We should sleep. There's Charms Class tomorrow morning."

"Mm." Ron nodded heavily, but his brows were still tightly furrowed. He was still worried about Harry.

Early the next morning, Gryffindor's first-year classmates could be seen happily eating at the Long Table.

Halloween itself fell on Friday, which was tomorrow—and Friday morning had two Potions classes taught by Professor Snape.

A holiday meant no classes, and a holiday on Friday meant they would not have to attend Potions Class.

You know! Not having Potions Class with Professor Snape! For Gryffindor! Do you know what that meant?!

It was just a little regrettable that the afternoon Flying Lesson had also been canceled because of the holiday.

This was one of the few chances the young wizards had to touch a Flying Broomstick.

Even more excitingly, Professor Flitwick said that after studying for so long, he believed it was time for the young wizards to learn how to make objects fly.

"All right, don't forget that subtle wrist movement we've been practicing!" As usual, Professor Flitwick stood atop his stack of books and squeaked, "A swish and a flick, remember, a swish and a flick—and pronouncing the incantation correctly is also very important—never forget Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and ended up lying on the floor with a buffalo standing on his chest."

Harry had always believed that the wrist movement merely helped wizards clarify which spell they wanted to cast. When casting without a wand, what gestures did one need to draw? Whatever one thought of was what one threw out.

"Winguardium Leviosa!" Harry held his wand and tugged at the desk before him. It slowly floated into the air.

"Wonderful! Simply wonderful, Mr. Potter!" Professor Flitwick let out a shriek and happily bounced atop his books.

However, when he stepped back down, his foot missed its footing. Slipping, he tipped backward.

"Leviosa!" In his panic, Harry pointed his wand at Professor Flitwick as he fell backward and cast a Levitation Charm.

Though Winguardium Leviosa appeared to differ from Leviosa by only a prefix, they were actually vastly different. The latter was not an abbreviation of the former. Leviosa simply made an object float, while Winguardium Leviosa could control the direction in which an object floated.

Professor Flitwick paddled his arms forward as though swimming through the air and said happily to Harry, "Ten points to Gryffindor! An excellent spell! Harry, you must have previewed the textbook, hadn't you?"

"Yes, Professor." Harry controlled the spell and lowered Professor Flitwick back down.

Throughout the entire lesson, only Hermione successfully made her feather float—after her came half a Ron.

Under Hermione's guidance, Ron successfully made his feather fly, but Seamus suddenly made his feather explode, distracting him, and Ron's feather fell back onto the desk.

"You really ought to study Blasting Curse properly, or some other explosive spells."

On the way back to the Great Hall, Hermione said to Seamus, "I think your talent might give you some advantage in that area."

"Are you mocking me, Granger?" Seamus asked indignantly. He felt offended.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Buddy." Ron hurriedly put a hand on Seamus's arm. "No need for that, no need for that."

"Sorry, Seamus." Hermione quickly apologized to him. "I didn't mean it that way."

Since Hermione had apologized, Seamus could not say anything more.

After Herbology ended that afternoon, the highly anticipated Halloween feast began.

Thousands of magically conjured bats fluttered along the walls and ceiling. A densely packed swarm of bats, like clusters of low dark clouds, circled above the Dining Table, and whenever they passed the great Halloween pumpkins, the candle flames in their bellies flickered.

"Where's Harry?" Ron suddenly realized his good friend was gone.

"Harry said he was going to the Bathroom just now," Seamus answered.

Ron could not help worrying. Was Harry still sad? Should he go comfort him?

God, Harry must need someone with him right now.

But in an instant, the plate before him was filled with an array of delicious food, and his attention was immediately drawn away.

I'll eat a chicken leg first, then go over, he thought.

However, the doors suddenly flew open, and Professor Quirrell rushed into the dining hall. His large turban was crooked on his head, and his face was full of terror.

All the students turned their attention toward him, wanting to know what could possibly make the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor so frantic.

"Troll! Troll in the Dungeon Classroom!" Quirrell ran before Dumbledore and shouted, "I thought—you ought to know..."

After shouting that, he pitched forward onto the floor.

The dining hall fell silent for an instant. Then, led by someone unknown, the students began screaming at once.

A troll, oh God...

Dumbledore pointed his wand at his throat and shouted, "Silence—"

Perhaps the Headmaster's authority cowed the students. The moment they heard Dumbledore's voice, they quieted down.

"Prefects!" Dumbledore's voice was low yet thunderous. "Take the students of your Houses back to their Dormitories immediately!"

"Come on, follow me." The Prefects began organizing the classmates into lines to return to the dormitories. "Don't be afraid of some troll. The professors will deal with it."

Hermione had just started to follow Percy when Ron grabbed her sleeve.

"Ron? What are you doing?" Hermione asked.

"Harry!" Ron said in a low voice. "Harry's still in the Bathroom on the first floor! We have to warn him! He's in danger!"