Tap, tap, tap...
Footsteps echoed rhythmically through the empty corridor, standing in stark contrast to the noise coming from the opposite direction. In this moment, Draco was like a lone hero on a quest to defeat a demon king, while the princess in need of rescue waited for him—in a girls' bathroom, no less (?)
On his way to the second floor, Draco already had his wand in hand.
While he had learned wandless magic, using it in real combat was still a bit premature for him.
Not wanting to risk anything due to carelessness, Draco had drawn his wand the moment he stepped out of the Great Hall.
A wizard's wand.
Every young witch or wizard receives their first wand upon entering the magical world. Though it's called a "first" wand, for most, it remains the only one they'll ever use in their lifetime.
Choosing the right wand—a wand that will be with you forever—is as much a matter of knowledge as it is of luck.
As one famed wandmaker once said:
[The wand that suits you best is the most powerful wand.]
Setting aside legendary wands that defy all rules, this statement holds entirely true.
The wand in Draco's hand was one carefully selected by the Malfoy family after much deliberation.
Ten inches, hawthorn wood, dragon heartstring.
It fit Draco perfectly—ten inches gave it ideal balance, the hawthorn tree bloomed in the same season he was born, and the dragon heartstring filled him with an unexplainable sense of familiarity.
Etched with the Malfoy family crest near its base, this wand was Draco's lifeline in the face of danger.
"With my current strength, taking down a troll shouldn't be a problem."
Draco wasn't just speaking out of arrogance. He had studied trolls, and he had confidence in his abilities.
Leaving the troll itself aside for a moment—
In terms of raw power, Draco could already rival adult wizards in certain areas.
The strength of a wizard is judged by three things:
First, their magical power.
Second, the number of spells they've mastered and their proficiency with them.
Third, their combat experience—something that only time and talent can cultivate.
Draco hadn't yet accumulated much experience or mastered a vast number of spells, but in terms of magical power and affinity, he was gifted beyond compare.
It's widely known that young wizards experience an uncontrollable burst of magic in their early years.
No one knows exactly why it happens.
What's clear is that this magical surge helps determine whether a child has the potential to become a wizard and provides a rough measure of their future capabilities.
The earlier this burst occurs, the greater the potential magical reserves the wizard may possess.
It sets the upper limit of their magical strength.
Draco's magical outburst happened the moment he was born—an event that shattered all previous records in the wizarding world.
"As for the spell I'll use on the troll?"
"This one will do."
Something seemed to come to mind, and Draco gave his wand a little flourish in the air.
That gleam in his eyes—
He clearly saw the troll not as a threat, but as a practice target for testing his spells...
...
Just as Draco was mulling over his current power level, he stepped onto the corridor of the second floor—the girls' bathroom, where Hermione was, lay just ahead.
Looking up, he didn't even need to focus to see it: a hulking creature nearly scraping the ceiling...
"A mountain troll?"
With his extensive knowledge, Draco immediately identified the creature.
And that made it all the more unbelievable—there was no way a troll like this had wandered into Hogwarts on its own. This was Hogwarts, after all. Even being lost should have its limits!
"That stench... I could smell it from down the hall."
Draco frowned. Only once he'd adjusted to the foul odor did he move closer to the troll.
It didn't seem to have noticed him. The troll was clumsily hunched over, pawing at the door to the girls' bathroom.
It looked so focused that it almost felt wrong to interrupt...
"Looks like our troll friend could use a little help~"
Draco showed no sign of nervousness at facing such a dangerous creature—instead, he was teasing it casually.
Not that the dim-witted troll could understand him, of course...
As he got closer, its grotesque appearance became even clearer.
The creature that had broken into Hogwarts had a completely bald head, not a single strand of hair. Its skin was a strange, pale gray.
Its body was lumpy, its feet wide and flat, covered in thick, horn-like keratin—so hideous it was hard to look at, let alone imagine touching.
But what Draco found truly unbearable—
Was the smell. A nauseating mix of filthy socks and an uncleaned public toilet.
In short, it was a disgusting, foul-smelling beast.
No wonder Draco's face twisted in revulsion...
Then, something occurred to him. He stopped in his tracks.
"The second-floor girls' bathroom!?"
At that moment, Draco saw the shattered bathroom door—and behind it, Hermione, exposed to view, tears still streaking down her cheeks, not even wiped away in time.
In that instant.
Draco's expression shifted—from mild curiosity about the troll to an icy, merciless glare.
He'd originally hesitated, worried about the consequences of using a certain spell.
But now, the pressure radiating from him made it clear—
He wasn't thinking about that anymore...