Upon hearing Ron's words, Hermione didn't hesitate for a moment. She turned and ran after him, moving in the opposite direction of the group.
The prefects were all busy maintaining order in their own houses, and no one noticed the two little troublemakers going against the flow.
"My goodness, I hope Harry is alright," Hermione said, her voice full of worry.
"How could he not be?" Ron replied confidently. "He's the Boy Who Lived, the one who even survived Voldemort. What mere troll could hurt him?"
Even as he said this, a trace of doubt lingered in Ron's mind.
Trolls are incredibly tough and have a high resistance to magic. Spells cast by a first-year, especially ones meant to harm trolls, would be barely effective—let alone just to make them flinch.
"By Merlin's socks…" Ron silently prayed. "Harry, please be alright! I'd give up my chicken legs for a whole year if I had to!"
Meanwhile, Harry, concerned about the two, had just stood up and was adjusting his robes.
In truth, he had intended to use the Halloween feast as an opportunity to sneak down to the crypt beneath the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. The Great Hall was crowded, and it wouldn't be surprising if a few students were absent.
Going to the bathroom would be the perfect excuse to slip away—and, in fact, he genuinely needed to go.
As he finished dressing, Harry suddenly sensed something was wrong.
What was that sound? Heavy, thunderous footsteps echoed from the corridor.
At the same time, a nauseating stench hit his nostrils—Harry immediately recognized it. Heavy steps, a foul odor… it could only be a troll.
He pushed open the stall door and looked toward the entrance. His eyes met those of the troll standing there.
The troll was nearly fifteen feet tall, with gray, granite-like skin. Its head looked small compared to its massive body, about the size of a basketball. It dragged a massive wooden club behind its back, taller than Harry himself.
It hesitated, its small brain trying to process the situation. After assessing the size difference between itself and the "tiny man" in front of it, it roared furiously.
Harry frowned in disgust. That thing… had horrible breath.
Though not very intelligent, the troll noticed Harry's disdain and became furious at the audacity of the small boy. Its limited brain couldn't understand why the boy's first reaction wasn't to run, but to stand there, glaring at it with apparent contempt.
Harry was extremely angry. He had just learned of his old friend's death the previous day and planned to go to the crypt to investigate, yet he hadn't expected that enormous idiot to block his way.
The professors couldn't possibly ignore a troll that size in the school, but by the time Harry reached the bathrooms, the troll was already there.
The troll raised its massive club, revealing a sinister grin.
Harry felt the same. Coincidence? he thought. I'm in a bad mood today and suddenly a punching bag appears out of nowhere…
Even with its limited brain, the troll sensed something was wrong.
Before it could react, it saw the small figure in front of it pull out a wand, much smaller than the club it held.
"Expelliarmus!"
A flash of red light, and the club flew out of the troll's hand.
However, the weapon didn't fall to the floor. Harry decided to use this unwelcome punching bag to vent his anger. He took a deep breath… rolled his eyes, and gagged—the troll's body odor was unbearable.
Seeing its weapon floating in midair, a question mark seemed to hover over the troll's head as it reached out to grab the club again. It couldn't understand why it suddenly lost control of its weapon.
"Hey, big guy!" Harry shouted, using Transfiguration to turn the broken door panel into a thick iron shackle, fastening it around the troll's ankle.
The troll let out a harsh, "Oh!" and turned its head to look at Harry, its beady eyes fixed on the small wizard.
Harry manipulated the club with his wand, striking with force. The wooden bat hit the troll repeatedly.
"Ouch! Ow!"
Even with thick skin, the blows were painful.
Harry continued to wield the club in the air, striking left and right, avoiding vital points, but hitting mercilessly.
The troll howled in pain, frantically trying to dodge Harry's attacks, but lost balance due to the iron shackle and fell to the ground with a heavy thud.
Harry didn't let the troll escape. He wanted revenge, and also because the troll clearly intended to attack him.
The school certainly wouldn't expel a young wizard for acting in self-defense, he thought casually.
The troll was now overwhelmed with regret. How had it ended up in this strange house, getting involved in such a trivial mess?
But it was powerless against Harry's relentless strikes, which treated it like a punching bag. All it could do was clutch its wounds and howl in pain.
The pain, remorse, and cries were so clear that even the Flobberworm could hear them.
Ron and Hermione also heard the troll's voice and became extremely anxious. Was it venting its anger? Had it found Harry? Or… was it beating him to a pulp?
"Harry… Harry… is he going to be alright?" Hermione asked, her voice trembling with worry.
"No, he's not!" shouted Ron anxiously, running down the corridor.
They had ignored the danger, consumed by concern for Harry's safety.
"Is… is this the door?"
Ron swallowed hard, listening to the muffled thuds and desperate howls coming from inside.
"Wait, let's push it slowly and see…" Hermione stopped Ron from forcing the door open. "Don't disturb the troll. What if it's just venting its anger in the bathroom?"
Ron agreed and gently pushed the door.
Then, they witnessed a scene they would never forget.
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