In the Muggle world, there was once a man named Murphy who famously said: if you think things are about to get worse, they absolutely will.
Turns out, Murphy's Law applies just as well in the wizarding world.
Take this for example: when Harry and Ron realized they might have locked Adam in with the troll, well… Adam really was in that very room the troll had just entered.
The boys raced back to the door, hearts pounding. One glance confirmed it—this was the storeroom Neville had mentioned, Adam's favorite spot for sneaking naps.
They imagined Adam's scrawny figure, then pictured the troll's hulking, ten-foot frame.
Both boys went pale as Nearly Headless Nick.
They exchanged a terrified look and fumbled with the latch, hands shaking as they swung the door open.
Both braced themselves for a grisly sight—a small boy smashed into a bloody pulp. Their bodies trembled with dread.
But the horror they'd imagined hadn't happened.
The bad news? Adam was definitely inside, and the troll's enormous hand was reaching for his head.
If that giant paw closed around Adam's skull and squeezed, it'd pop like a watermelon—red juice and all.
Just picturing it was enough to make them sick.
Adam, meanwhile, seemed utterly petrified—just staring at the troll in a daze, not even trying to dodge.
"Adam, look out!"
"Run, Adam!"
Harry and Ron shouted in unison, panic in their voices.
"???"
Inside the cramped storeroom, both the troll and Adam turned their heads toward the door. The troll's ugly little face was blank with confusion; Adam looked equally bewildered, as if both had been startled out of a dream.
"Adam's frozen with fear!" Ron whispered urgently.
"We'll distract it—give Adam a chance to get away," Harry replied, thinking fast.
"How do we distract—" Ron began, his voice trembling.
He didn't have to wonder long. The troll's expression shifted from confusion to fury, and it let out a guttural roar that made the floor vibrate.
Even from across the room, Harry and Ron caught a whiff of its breath—it was worse than any failed potion they'd ever brewed.
But there was no time to gag. The enraged troll lumbered toward them, dragging its thick wooden club and stomping so hard the shelves rattled.
In a panic, the boys split up, racing to opposite sides of the room to split the troll's attention.
It worked—momentarily, the troll hesitated, torn between targets.
Then it noticed Adam beside it. With a grunt, it raised its club, aiming to smash the little boy.
"Hey!" Harry yelled.
The troll paused, bewildered.
A dark object sailed through the air—a battered old cauldron from the storeroom—smacking into the troll's chest with a loud clang before shattering on the floor.
The troll, now even angrier, turned its attention to Harry and charged.
Adam, finally jolted into action, scrambled along the wall, trying to stay out of reach.
But with the troll now blocking the doorway, escape seemed impossible.
Seeing Harry become the new target, Ron grabbed a broken brass scale and hurled it at the troll.
The troll's focus shifted again.
When Ron was threatened, Harry tossed a metal funnel. Again and again, the boys pelted the troll with whatever they could find, forcing it to lumber back and forth in confusion.
For a moment, it almost seemed like they'd found a way to keep the beast at bay.
But then disaster struck—Ron slipped on a stray object, crashing painfully to the floor. He tried to stand, but agony shot through his leg.
And now the troll seemed to wise up. No matter how many objects Harry threw, it ignored him and lumbered straight for Ron.
At the last second, Harry leapt forward, grabbing the troll's raised arm with both hands and swinging himself up, clinging desperately to the beast's limb.
The troll roared, shaking its arm wildly in an attempt to fling Harry off.
Harry held on for dear life, but he was only eleven—he couldn't last much longer. If he was thrown, he'd be lucky to survive.
The situation was spiraling into disaster.
"Idiots!"
A voice, both familiar and infuriating, rang out.
Both Harry and Ron turned to see none other than Draco Malfoy, his blond hair in disarray and his face twisted with anger and annoyance—as if someone had stepped on his nonexistent tail.
Malfoy's sudden appearance was almost more shocking than the troll itself.
But before either boy could react, Malfoy shouted "Idiots!" again and, with a surprising burst of courage, leapt onto the troll's other arm, wrapping himself around it.
Now both of the troll's arms were occupied, and it thrashed harder than ever, trying to shake off its two human barnacles.
Harry and Malfoy both turned a little green, but neither dared let go.
"You called me an idiot—why are you being stupid too?!" Harry shot back, breathless.
"Shut up! You two are even thicker than this troll!" Malfoy snapped. Then, more urgently: "Do something, quick!"
Harry bit back a retort, mind whirling for a solution.
His first thought, though, was one of regret—why hadn't they just told Qin Yu? He was sure Qin could've handled the troll with a flick of his wand.
That thought jogged his memory—he still had his wand.
Gritting his teeth, Harry clambered up the troll's arm toward its neck, fumbling in his pocket for his wand.
With a burst of reckless inspiration, he jabbed the wand straight up the troll's nose.
Malfoy, not to be outdone, whipped out his own elegant wand and shoved it up the other nostril.
The troll, now with both nostrils invaded, let out a howl of pure rage.
It raised its club, ready to smash Harry and Malfoy into jelly.
"Weasley, what are you gawking at? Do something!" Malfoy shrieked, his bravado slipping.
Ron had finally managed to stagger upright, but he couldn't get close enough to help. He hopped anxiously from foot to foot, clutching his own brand-new wand.
"Stop yelling at me and think of something yourself!" he snapped back.
"Idiot!" Malfoy shot back.
Both boys knew this was no time for bickering. They fell silent, hearts pounding.
Ron stared at the wands jammed up the troll's nose. He fumbled for his own, hands shaking.
"Use a spell!" Harry shouted.
"Which one?" Ron blurted out, panicking.
"Anything, you idiot!" Malfoy barked.
Ron's mind went blank. Why hadn't he learned more spells? Why did it have to be now?
But the troll wasn't waiting.
It raised the club high, aiming for Harry's head.
If the blow landed, there'd be nothing left of Harry but a smear on the floor.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
At the last possible second, Ron's memory snapped back into place. He shouted the incantation, waving his wand in a trembling swish and flick.
The troll's massive club suddenly shot upward, yanked from its grip as if by invisible strings.
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