The Washroom and the Troll

In the Great Hall, a thousand bats fluttered and swooped across the walls and ceiling, while another thousand, like low-hanging storm clouds, swirled above the tables, making the candle flames inside the pumpkins flicker and dance.

Delicious food appeared on the golden plates, just as it had at the start-of-term feast.

Yet Hermione's figure was nowhere to be seen.

Not only Hermione, but Damon was also absent, leaving Harry and Ron somewhat puzzled.

"No way, it's a holiday today. Is Damon really going to practice Charms even now?"

The two already knew that Damon devoted his free time to practicing Charms, but they hadn't asked to join him.

For one, they didn't think it was necessary to push themselves that hard.

For another, they were too embarrassed to bring it up with Damon—if they couldn't keep up and gave up halfway, it would be too humiliating.

Right now, for instance, they naturally wanted to enjoy the festive atmosphere, not practice Charms alone in some deserted corner.

But as Professor Quirrell burst into the Great Hall, the festive mood instantly evaporated.

His large turban was askew on his head, his face twisted with terror. Everyone stared as he staggered to Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped:

"Troll. In the Dungeon Classroom. Thought you ought to know."

With that, he pitched forward onto the floor and passed out.

Someone started screaming, and in an instant, the entire Hall erupted into chaos.

"Silence!" Dumbledore sent several sharp, explosive bursts of fire from his wand. "Prefects, please lead your Houses' students back to their dormitories at once!"

Soon, under the direction of the four Prefects, the disorder settled back into order. But at that moment, Harry whispered urgently to Ron:

"Ron—Hermione!"

"What about her?"

"She doesn't know about the troll! And Damon's not here either—is he really just practicing Charms?"

Ron bit his lip and made a quick decision:

"Let's go see for ourselves? But we'd better not let Percy catch us."

The two ducked down, mingled with the Hufflepuff crowd, and slipped off in another direction.

What they failed to notice was that, from the staff table above, Professor Dumbledore was quietly watching them.

Second floor of the castle, the Girls' Bathroom.

Hermione sat in a disused toilet stall, wiping her eyes, her face blotchy and red.

"Tap—tap—tap."

Steady footsteps sounded outside the door, and Hermione quickly wiped the tears from her face. But her eyes were still red, and with her prominent front teeth, she looked even more like a rabbit.

"Hermione, are you in there?"

Damon's voice came from outside the bathroom.

"Damon? What are you doing here!"

Hermione's heart was in turmoil. If she had to pick the one person she least wanted to see her in this state, it wasn't Harry, and it wasn't Ron—it was Damon!

She would rather have Ron laugh at her crying than let the rival she respected see her like this.

But now, she couldn't control herself. The tears she had just dried burst forth again like a broken dam at the sound of Damon's concerned voice.

"Damon—I'm begging you—can you just leave me alone for a while?"

Hermione's voice was thick with frustration, almost self-destructive.

"Don't worry, Hermione. I won't come in. But as a friend, please let me stay by your side, alright? I'll stand right outside the bathroom. I won't look in, and I won't eavesdrop."

Damon's voice was still gentle and steady, and it gave Hermione a little strength. Moreover, the implication in his words made her heart skip a beat.

"Friend... Are you saying we're friends?"

"Are we not? Or am I flattering myself?"

"No—that's not what I meant—" Hermione wiped the remaining tears from her face again. "I mean—I didn't expect—that you thought of me that way. You've never said so before."

Hermione quietly stood up from the stall and smoothed the wrinkles in her robes—she felt much better.

"You see, you're always reading, and I'm always practicing Charms. We don't have much time for idle chat, do we?"

"Mm. But I think, from now on—" Hermione's brow suddenly furrowed. "Damon, do you smell something foul?"

At that moment, a stench like dirty socks mixed with a never-cleaned public toilet grew stronger and stronger, filling both their nostrils.

"THUD—THUD—THUD!"

Unlike Damon's steady footsteps earlier, an extremely heavy tread now sounded from outside the bathroom, as if some enormous creature was approaching!

"Hermione, come out."

Damon's voice was still calm, but Hermione thought she detected a faint, barely perceptible tremor in it.

That discovery made her expression shift slightly—was Damon actually afraid?

She hurried out of the bathroom door, and suddenly saw a massive shadow looming into the room!

"Creak."

With the sound of the lock clicking shut, the owner of the massive shadow revealed its hideous and terrifying true form—a troll standing a full twelve feet tall, with a bald little head like a coconut, now appeared before the two of them.

Its short legs were thick as tree stumps, beneath which were flat, coarse, calloused feet, and the stench radiating from its body was nauseatingly foul!

At that moment, it dragged a thick wooden club along the ground, its gaze already locked with Hermione's.

"Ah—!!!"

Hermione let out a bloodcurdling scream!

In truth, if Damon hadn't been right there, her voice would have been several times more piercing!

"Hermione, relax!" Damon tried to make his voice drown her out. "Crouch in the corner, you'll be fine!"

He didn't turn to check on Hermione, instead focusing all his attention on the massive creature before him.

Troll, danger level XXXX. In the Ministry of Magic's classification, 4X meant dangerous—requiring specialized knowledge or a skilled wizard to handle.

The one before him was the most dangerous of the three types: the Mountain Troll, possessing immense size and astonishing strength, along with tough skin and high magical resistance.

Its only weakness was its low intelligence, though it could still cast some low-level spells.

A Mountain Troll—even an adult wizard would need multiple people working together to have any chance of defeating it.

Yet such a powerful and troublesome existence, in the original story, had been climbed by Harry, who jammed his wand up its nose, and then knocked out easily by Ron using a Levitation Charm to swing a club at it.

How was that possible?

If Dumbledore hadn't been watching from the sidelines the whole time, Damon couldn't think of any other reasonable explanation.

A gleeful smile spread across Damon's face. Two months of day-in, day-out training against targets had been enjoyable enough, but he wouldn't mind finding an opponent he could go all out against—in fact, that was exactly why he was here!

"Well then, let's have some fun."

Before the troll could act, Damon looked at the colossal being before him and swiftly waved his wand:

"Vera Verto!"