Troll

The first-floor corridor quickly fell quiet as the students left.

Only the glow of Jack-o'-lanterns streaming from the Great Hall still held a trace of warmth. Everything else was silent and deep.

A strange sound echoed through the corridor—

"Clack, clack, clack, clack..."

Then Vaughn suddenly appeared out of thin air. He looked speechlessly beside him. "What are you shaking for?"

Ron's tearful, nasal voice came from that patch of air. "I'm scared... Didn't you hear? It's a Troll!"

"Thanks for the reminder, but Ronald, I was the one who told you that. Didn't I say I'd protect you? I even cast a Phantasmal Charm on you."

As he spoke, Vaughn poked his head out to look toward the Great Hall.

The flickering light from there shone into his eyes, making them shift between light and shadow.

Though he had never deliberately changed anything.

Vaughn knew that his very existence had disrupted Harry's destiny.

Many things happening at Hogwarts now differed from the novel he had once read. Of course, Vaughn also knew that some things were easily influenced, while others were destined to happen.

For example, Voldemort wanted to steal the Philosopher's Stone!

As long as the Philosopher's Stone remained at Hogwarts, and as long as Voldemort still needed it, the Halloween Eve incident would scarcely change.

Creating chaos on Halloween was the best opportunity. Only then would all the Young Wizards be gathered together, making them easy to manage, while Dumbledore and the professors could leave without worry and focus on the sudden emergency.

Quirrell would not give up such an opportunity.

Sure enough, just as Vaughn had expected, Quirrell had still let the Troll into Hogwarts.

Now, it depended on whether he had the nerve to go to the Fourth Floor...

After waiting a while longer, Vaughn finally saw a figure sneak out of the Great Hall. It was Quirrell, who had pretended to faint earlier—the enormous turban was far too recognizable.

He looked around for a moment. Once he confirmed that the professors had all left, he hurried upstairs.

Vaughn let out a quiet breath. One reason he wanted to confirm this was to see whether he might get a chance to come into contact with the Philosopher's Stone. The other was to find out—

Without getting any unicorn blood, what state was Socket Man in now?

Seeing Quirrell disappear up the stairs, Vaughn was about to say something to Ron when he heard Ron trembling beside him, crying out fearfully.

"How can you, you protect me from something like that?"

Vaughn turned around. At the corner ahead stood a massive creature at least twelve feet tall, its dull, grayish skin like stone, carrying a wooden club.

That enormous creature had a powerful body, like a moving hill. Though its tiny head perched on its shoulders looked rather ridiculous.

That did nothing to lessen the crushing pressure brought by its huge size!

Mom... I might really die...

Ron began to cry inwardly. He knew it—whenever Vaughn wore that kind of smile, nothing good ever came of it. He never should have agreed to Vaughn out of wishful thinking.

The only consolation was that he had at least told Harry his last words at lunch!

"...Bad luck."

Hearing the sound of chattering teeth from the air beside him grow louder, loud enough to draw the Troll's attention, Vaughn sighed.

"Honestly, Ronald, you should stop calling me big brother in the future."

He slowly drew his Wand. The Troll across from him had already spotted him. It breathed excitedly and strode toward him.

It was called walking, but with the Troll's size and stride, it was almost before the blink of an eye that it arrived in front of them.

Its enormous club rose high.

Ron nearly screamed.

Then he saw Vaughn raise his Wand. The face Ron usually feared showed no hesitation or cowardice.

"Confringo!"

Bang!

The club, which had torn through the air with a violent whistling sound, shattered under the powerful spell. Then came two spells in rapid succession.

"Diffindo!"

"Diffindo!"

The light of the spells streaked through the darkness like lightning.

They slammed heavily into the Troll, blasting up clouds of dust and fragments. The disturbed air made the candle flames along the walls flicker.

Only then did the foolish Troll react. It opened its mouth, trying to scream, trying to roar.

But the instant it opened its mouth, Ron heard Vaughn rapidly chant—

"Bombarda!"

Some hidden, invisible force shot forth, and the air itself seemed to turn cold for an instant!

The next moment...

Ron saw the Troll's teeth and tongue suddenly explode.

The instant they became a mangled mass of flesh, another identical spell struck into its mouth. Its fragile jawbones could no longer bear the strain.

Pfft—

With a dull sound, the Troll's upper jaw and head flew into the air, foul-smelling blood spraying everywhere.

Thud!

The Troll's head hit the floor and rolled toward them.

Its confused little eyes blinked a few times before seeming to understand its fate. Its pupils dilated, and the light faded from its eyes.

Gulp!

Ron swallowed and could not help clenching his legs together.

In just a few seconds, the ups and downs of life had been far too thrilling. His mind was completely blank now.

Dealing with a Troll was not difficult for Vaughn.

Other than its skin being relatively resistant to spells, this stupid creature was useless in every other respect.

If he had not wanted to finish it quickly and with as little noise as possible, Vaughn had plenty of ways to toy with it.

He waved his Wand and lifted the Phantasmal Charm from Ron. The moment the spell was undone, Ron collapsed onto the floor with a plop.

Vaughn looked at him. "Did you piss yourself?"

With his dignity at stake, Ron finally came to his senses before nodding.

His face reddened as he stammered and tried to puff out his chest. "N-No!"

Vaughn could not be bothered with him. He plucked out a hair and quietly recited a spell. The hair immediately began to burn.

He patted the ashes onto Ron's neck and instructed, "This magic will last for one hour. Go guard the basement exit for me. If the professors come out, quietly say my name, and I'll know."

Ron's newly puffed-out chest immediately deflated again. He looked at Vaughn pitifully. "Where are you going?"

Vaughn did not care whether he agreed. Amid Ron's pained cry, he plucked another hair from Ron.

He repeated the process and patted the ashes from the burned hair onto his own throat.

He continued, "If the professors don't come out, then when you hear me say your name, hurry down and find Dumbledore, understand?"

Seeing that Vaughn ignored his question, Ron knew he could not refuse and could only nod in agreement.

After arranging everything, Vaughn touched his pocket before following the route Quirrell had just taken upstairs.

In truth, having Ron stand guard was merely Vaughn's habitual caution. He had not expected it to be useful.

What gave him the confidence to follow Quirrell—or rather, Voldemort—was right in his pocket!