"I had it hold back a bit. It's only unconscious," Morin said, stopping about ten yards from the troll. "If any of you have a way to find out who brought it in, feel free to try. As long as I'm here, it won't have a chance to resist."
"I'll do it." Dumbledore's expression was grim.
A troll couldn't have entered Hogwarts on its own.
There were only two possibilities.
Either Dumbledore himself had permitted it.
Or someone had used powerful concealment magic to sneak it inside.
A troll loose in Hogwarts could have caused serious injuries-or worse.
Dumbledore was rarely this angry.
If Morin hadn't been here, they wouldn't have discovered it so quickly. The students would have been completely defenseless.
Dumbledore murmured an incantation.
Silvery threads were drawn out from the troll's head.
"No information," Dumbledore said, shaking his head. "Its mind has been completely wiped by some method."
"Dispose of it. Even brain-dead, a troll is still dangerous. We can't release it."
He looked around.
"And we need to tighten the castle's security."
The professors all nodded.
"..."
Morin turned his gaze toward a large griffin statue and walked over.
As expected, someone was crouched behind it.
Hermione: "(°°)!"
Morin: "(..)"
Hermione: "( ヮ )"
Morin: "..."
"A clever choice, Miss Granger," Morin said calmly. "Trolls are incredibly stupid, and their own stench ruins their sense of smell. As long as you stay out of sight and remain quiet, this is an ideal hiding method."
He gestured for her to come out.
"I believe Gryffindor deserves ten points."
"Excellent self-preservation."
The professors: "..."
He's the Defense professor.
What he says goes.
Besides, the other Defense professor had just been exposed as a fraud-and wasn't even present.
Everyone could tell Morin was protecting Hermione.
He was practically calling black white.
But after witnessing his power, no one wanted to argue over something so minor.
And honestly?
Most of them liked Hermione.
She was brilliant. Hardworking. Reliable.
Good students naturally received preferential treatment.
What teacher didn't appreciate a student who made their job easier?
Unless there was some deep-seated grudge.
And the one professor who might qualify-Snape-wasn't there.
So the question of why Hermione had been there at all quietly disappeared.
The troll incident was over.
But the feast couldn't resume.
The professors still had to sweep the entire castle.
Morin decided to escort Hermione back himself.
"Were you planning a one-on-one with the troll?"
"No," Hermione whispered. "I was following Professor Snape. His behavior was strange. He was heading toward the fourth floor."
"Professor Snape often behaves in ways that don't look very 'professorial,'" Morin said. "But he isn't a bad person. At least, not right now."
He paused.
"I understand why you'd be suspicious. He targets Gryffindors. He studies the Dark Arts."
"But judging people only by appearances is a mistake."
"Back home, we say: you can know someone's face, but not their heart."
He added calmly, "Though I'll admit-his personality is unpleasant."
Hermione didn't fully understand.
But that was fine.
She had time.
Morin walked her back to the Gryffindor common room, watched her give the password, and head inside for the house celebration.
He spoke briefly with the Fat Lady, making it clear he wasn't there to cause trouble, then left.
November arrived.
The weather turned cold.
Frost covered the mountains.
The lake froze.
Silver and white dominated the landscape.
It was also when the Quidditch season began.
And Grindelwald finally returned.
Where he'd gone to find wand materials, Morin didn't ask.
He simply helped him craft a wand using his own methods.
It looked ordinary.
But in capable hands, it would be anything but.
Once Grindelwald had his wand, he began sparring with Dumbledore.
He claimed he wanted to test it.
And to see whether Dumbledore's combat ability had declined.
Naturally, he didn't forget about Quirrell.
Or Voldemort.
The duel was set for December 24th.
Christmas Eve.
It was deliberate.
Term would be nearly over.
Given Quirrell's performance this semester, he likely wouldn't return anyway.
But Grindelwald wanted to crush him before that.
In public.
He said such an incompetent and harmful professor didn't deserve dignity.
Just remove him.
This statement somehow spread through Hogwarts.
Students and teachers alike were buzzing.
Aside from the question of why anyone wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, the main debate was whether Quirrell would accept.
Opinions split.
Some believed a wizard's duel was a matter of honor.
Refusal meant defeat-and disqualification from teaching.
Others argued that given "Wodrin's" confidence, he must be guaranteed victory.
With Quirrell's reputation-terrified by a troll, hit by snowballs-anyone with self-awareness would refuse and disappear.
The arguments differed.
But they all led back to those two camps.
After all, wizard duels were things students only read about.
Never saw.
When young wizards argue, things can get dangerous.
This time, though, something changed.
They started using fists.
Not wands.
Likely inspired by a certain professor who had once explained school rules with an example:
[A student named Zhang San punches a magic-using student. Zhang San cleans floors. The magic user writes "I will follow the rules" one hundred times.]
The conclusion was obvious.
Physical fights were less serious.
Less damaging.
Less punished.
And more satisfying.
Professor Morin, of course, would never admit responsibility.
If asked, he'd simply say he was teaching rules-and they misunderstood.
The legend of Outlaw Zhang San lived on.
Beyond Quirrell and "Professor Wodrin," Quidditch was the other major topic.
As the most popular sport in the wizarding world, matches were always packed.
Especially Gryffindor versus Slytherin.
Their rivalry was intense.
After Harry's first point deduction, it was clear.
They didn't just want to win.
They wanted the other side to lose harder.
History. Personality. Pride.
Everything fed into it.
Harry invited Morin to watch the match.
After McGonagall discovered his talent, Harry had trained in secret for weeks.
Wood wanted to use him as a "secret weapon."
How it stayed secret was a mystery.
The news was everywhere.
Morin even overheard Gryffindors discussing following Harry with a mattress.
Harry admitted it was terrifying.
He didn't know whether to feel touched or scared.
At eleven, Morin arrived at the pitch.
The turnout said everything.
Nearly the entire school was there.
Even fifth- and seventh-years with exams.
Students sat in tiers, binoculars everywhere.
"Professor Morin! Over here!"
Many students waved him over.
Homework was terrifying.
But his popularity was strange.
It crashed during exams.
And soared during free time.
Right now, it was soaring.
"Thank you."
"I already have a seat."
"My apologies."
"Sorry."
Smiling, Morin made his way to the top row.
Hermione had saved him a seat.
Since taking her as his disciple, he could finally put her to work.
Ron wasn't there.
Morin's interference had prevented the Trio from forming.
He felt no guilt.
"Hermione Granger and Her Two Men" was unnecessary.
"Hermione Granger" was enough.
In every version, Hermione fit the protagonist template.
Talent.
Combat ability.
Endurance.
Looks.
Brains and brawn.
If that wasn't a main character, nothing was.
Her flaws were early rigidity and pride.
Both faded with time.
If Morin weren't a man of principle-
He shook his head.
No.
He wasn't that kind of person.
"Professor," Hermione said, notebook already out. "Yesterday you mentioned-"
"..."
"Hermione," Morin interrupted gently. "Balance work and rest."
"Study matters. But so does relaxation."
"Knowledge is endless."
"You should take breaks."
He gestured toward the pitch.
"We're here. Enjoy the match."
He sighed inwardly.
If every student were like this, teaching would be a dream.
Or a nightmare.
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