A Troll Attack

The October night sky hung low, and shadows drifted slowly across the tables. The warm orange light of the pumpkins rippled like a pool.

The sweet scent of roasted pumpkin and cinnamon filled the air between the long tables, and the students' plates were piled high with syrup tarts.

Here and there, someone imitated an owl's hoot, while someone else tossed Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans into their mouth. Laughter roared through the Great Hall. Dumbledore sat in the middle of the staff table, the flickering candlelight reflected in his half-moon spectacles.

Suddenly, Professor Quirrell's shrill scream cut through the din of the Halloween Feast.

"T-Troll! In the dungeons!"

The Great Hall erupted into chaos. The younger students, especially, panicked and surged toward the exits, scattering in every direction. The professors shouted loudly, trying to keep order.

"Silence!" At Dumbledore's shout, everyone finally stopped where they were.

Dumbledore rose quickly, his gaze sweeping over the hall like a hawk's. He immediately instructed the Prefects to lead the students out in an orderly fashion, while the professors hurried toward the dungeons. Only one "black bat" hesitated before running upstairs.

Yulian sat beside the Ravenclaw Table. Even though he knew the story, Professor Quirrell's shrill scream still made him jump, spilling a good amount of Pumpkin Juice from his hand.

The terrified look on Quirrell's face was utterly unconvincing—the trembling and darting eyes seemed like a scene carefully rehearsed.

Quirrell's real goal, of course, was to use the Troll to create chaos and draw everyone's attention away, giving him the chance to sneak into the forbidden area alone, try to get past the final obstacle, and steal the Philosopher's Stone!

But what did any of that have to do with Yulian? Harry and the others would handle it.

Yulian's gaze drifted toward the Gryffindor table. He had already spotted Harry and Ron slipping away from the group and heading toward the girls' bathroom (as expected).

Hermione still seemed to be having trouble getting along with her classmates. Yulian smiled and shook his head.

But just as he hesitated over whether to leave with the crowd or follow Harry to see what was happening, a completely different sense of unease stirred in his chest.

It was like an instinctive warning from his bloodline. It wasn't coming from underground, but from... the fourth floor! The north corridor!

The Troll was stupid, but the primal, violent magic within it was like a scorching brand, burning indiscriminately everywhere it went.

And on the north side of the fourth floor, in the room that held the Mirror of Erised and sealed the stone slab, something was making Yulian uneasy.

If the Troll rampaged through the castle, could it damage the Mirror? Why did the thought fill him with such alarm?

"Damn it!" Yulian muttered. He couldn't just ignore it. He'd better go take a look.

He didn't follow Harry and the others. Instead, he turned and raced toward the fourth floor as fast as he could, against the panicked flow of people.

"Hey, where are you going?" Edgar called after him.

"The girls' bathroom!" Yulian answered offhandedly, and was gone in an instant.

"Did he eat something bad?" Kayson asked doubtfully. "I saw him eat a lot of Pumpkin Pasties."

"Is that really the point?" Edgar said, exasperated with his roommate.

"Oh, right. Why's he going to the girls' bathroom?"

"The point is, our dorm has a bathroom. Why's he going there?"

"..."

When Yulian reached the north corridor on the fourth floor, panting, he could already hear dull impacts and the crash of crumbling walls in the distance.

The Troll's huge gray shape appeared and disappeared around the corridor's bend. It seemed to have been drawn by some sound and was clumsily making its way toward him!

Yulian's heart leaped into his throat. He couldn't let the Troll get near that door!

There was no time to hesitate. He darted into an empty classroom, pulled a small vial of Thestral Dust from his robe pocket—the rare material his grandfather, Alphard, had given him—and prepared to briefly distort light and sound.

He sprinkled the powder over the tip of his wand and quietly chanted a secret Silent Barrier Charm of the Black Family.

An almost invisible, translucent magical barrier silently unfurled, enveloping the room that held the Mirror of Erised and the area within ten feet of it.

The barrier couldn't stop physical attacks, but it could absorb and dispel most magical fluctuations, while making the room far less noticeable—as if it "erased" that space from the Troll's chaotic senses.

When he had finished, Yulian held his breath and hid behind the door.

The Troll's heavy footsteps drew closer. Its massive body squeezed through the narrow corridor, its single eye gazing blankly around. When it came within a few steps of the door, it stopped in an eerie fashion, as if it had lost its target.

It sniffed the air in confusion and let out a low grunt. Then it turned and lumbered off in the opposite direction, toward the noisier underground passage.

Yulian's taut nerves finally relaxed for a moment. It had worked. The room was safe for now.

But he didn't get a chance to leave. He faintly heard Hermione scream downstairs. They'd run into it!

Yulian immediately turned and hurried silently down another staircase.

When he reached the corridor outside the girls' bathroom, he saw a heart-stopping sight: the Troll raised its club, which must have weighed hundreds of pounds, high above its head and brought it crashing down at Hermione, trapped inside a stall!

Harry and Ron were jumping and shouting below, trying to draw its attention, but they seemed so small and helpless.

You had to hand it to Gryffindor—reckless to the end! In the blink of an eye, the two young wizards grabbed stones and clods of dirt from the floor and hurled them at the Troll's head.

If you asked which hurt more when stones and clods of dirt hit your head, the answer was probably your head! The Troll slowly turned its enormous head toward Ron.

Why hadn't it looked at Harry? Because Harry had already crept up behind it, leaped onto its back, and clambered onto its neck.

Even with the advantage, Harry never thought to use a spell to attack. His Muggle way of thinking was still at work: he simply used his wand like a dagger and stabbed it from behind toward the Troll's face.

By sheer luck, the wand went straight up the Troll's nostril, causing it immense, stinging pain.

The Troll flew into a rage. It reached behind, grabbed Harry by the ankle, and lifted him upside down, swinging its massive club at him.

Harry relied on the core strength he'd built up from all the beatings he'd taken. He curled his body like a shrimp and dodged the Troll's blow, then shouted calmly, "Help! Think of something!"

There was no chance Ron would come up with an idea, but luckily, Hermione, the brains of the group, thought of the one spell she knew well. Without her wand, she could only gesture at Ron and say, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

"Wingardium Leviosa!!!" Ron shouted the Levitation Charm with all his might. His wand shook violently with nerves, which happened to match Professor Flitwick's instructions to give it a swish and a flick.

Normally, there was no way Ron's level of magical ability could lift such a heavy weapon. The club only wobbled ever so slightly.

At the critical moment, Yulian hid in the shadows around the corner, his wand already raised. His lips moved as he silently spoke the same incantation, but the magic he poured into it far exceeded that of an ordinary student.

The two currents of magic met in midair. Ron's spell became the fuse, while Yulian's magic provided the real power.

The club jerked to a halt, then incredibly shot upward, as if an invisible force had plucked it out of the air. Higher and higher it rose, completely out of the Troll's control!

Just as the club reached its highest point, Yulian brought his wand sharply downward and silently spoke the incantation.

"Deprimo Profundis!"