"Huh?" The color rushed back into Hermione's pale face. She looked at Basil. "Two boats? Two-timing? When did you get a girlfriend? And two of them?"
She took a step forward as if possessed, her voice pitching so high it felt like the water tank might shatter. "Is it Padma and Parvati?!"
Ron and Harry's voices were completely drowned out by Hermione's high-pitched screeching.
"You're not his girlfriend?"
"Is this a misunderstanding?"
What the heck is she talking about?!
He was still a budding, innocent young man!
He was pure as the driven snow!
"I haven't even found a girlfriend in this world yet!" Basil looked back at Hermione, not backing down an inch. "Are you confused? If it were true, would Parvati have said, 'If she wasn't in the way, Basil would be ours'?"
"Oh..." Hermione seemed to shrink a few inches instantly.
To the side, Ron finally pieced the whole thing together. "You weren't crying because of me? It was because of Parvati?"
Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes at Ron.
Inside, however, it felt like a sweet, clear spring had just gushed into her heart.
Snapping back to reality, she realized that Basil had risked embarrassment standing in front of the girls' bathroom and given up the Halloween feast just to come find her.
She must be special to him.
Besides, didn't his conversation with Professor McGonagall before the Sorting prove everything?
As for Ron... his little offense wasn't even worth mentioning!
So, she stood on her tiptoes, practically skipping, and said in a sing-song voice, "Shall we go back to the feast?"
Basil shook his head. "Too late."
In the Hogwarts map within his mind, Quirrell had just suddenly appeared.
Quirrell hadn't Apparated.
In this castle, only Basil and Dumbledore had that privilege.
However, for convenience, Dumbledore had made a compromise.
He had whitelisted the Floo Network, integrating it into Hogwarts' magnetic field.
But Voldemort—or rather, Quirrell—had somehow obtained unauthorized access to the Floo Network.
In the dungeons, in a room right next to Snape's office, he had spliced in a private connection.
But this connection seemed to be a one-time deal.
Quirrell stepped out of the green flames carrying a brown suitcase.
Snape, who was camping out in Quirrell's office, sensed something was wrong and prepared to head downstairs.
But it was too late.
The connection fried, and the green flames died out.
The suitcase was also a one-use item.
After the spatial jump, it crackled and burst open.
Quirrell threw it out of the room just in time.
He scattered some powder in Snape's office, then booked it toward the Great Hall on the first floor.
Meanwhile, in the corridor.
The suitcase exploded into dust, leaving no trace behind.
In its place stood a massive Troll dragging a ten-foot wooden club.
That description isn't just hyperbole.
It really was that big.
Trolls usually stand about twelve feet tall and weigh over a ton. They have massive bodies topped with a tiny, coconut-sized head. Their legs are thick like tree trunks, ending in flat, calloused feet. Their arms are long, and their bodies emit a disgusting stench.
Depending on their habitat, they are divided into three types: Mountain Trolls, Forest Trolls, and River Trolls.
Judging by the granite-gray skin and the bald head of the one in front of them...
It was undoubtedly the most dangerous kind—a Mountain Troll.
And it was much larger and stronger than the average Mountain Troll, standing sixteen feet tall and weighing at least three tons.
Compared to this one, the Troll in the movie looked like a six or seven-year-old kid.
"Why is it too late?" Ron, who still hadn't eaten his fill, rubbed his stomach in confusion.
"It told me there's something dangerous in the dungeons." Basil had the Devil's Snare extend its tendrils, appearing right in front of everyone. "My family has a knack for controlling and communicating with plants."
"But isn't Devil's Snare afraid of light?" Hermione, being Hermione, got hung up on the details, completely ignoring which stall the tentacle had come out of.
By now, Quirrell had already announced the Troll in the dungeons.
Dumbledore was organizing the students to evacuate the Great Hall in an orderly fashion, escorted by the professors.
Meanwhile, the massive Troll.
After emerging from the suitcase, it stood there sluggishly for about a minute.
Then, it casually picked up its club and smashed it into Snape's office next door.
Luckily, the castle was sturdy, and Snape, knowing he wasn't exactly popular, had cast plenty of permanent protective spells on his office.
So, the hundreds of glass jars in the gloom, filled with slimy plant and animal specimens floating in colorful potions, were preserved.
Then, following the scent of food, the Troll started climbing the stairs.
The aroma of the feast in the Great Hall masked the smell of the kitchens (which held the leftovers) hidden behind the fruit painting.
The Slytherin snakes had returned to their dormitory safely, just missing it.
It was hard not to think this was all deliberately arranged by Voldemort.
The professors rushing to the dungeons to track the Troll also missed it.
They all assumed Snape was in his office, and that whoever released the Troll would choose a spot far away from there.
At this moment, the Troll, unable to enter the Great Hall due to its height—and having checked with its tiny head that there was no food inside—caught a whiff of a "secondary food source" from the second-floor bathroom: the smell of... well, let's just call it "digestive byproducts."
It started heading toward the second floor.
The staircases, which usually liked to move around, didn't mess up this time.
They delivered it steadily upstairs.
By this time, Basil had just finished explaining everything to Hermione and the others.
Their questions had given the Troll enough time to make its moves.
It was all too coincidental.
Basil checked the Headmaster's office. Sure enough, Dumbledore had turned on that prop called the "Mist Condenser" again and was observing them in the girls' bathroom.
The silver mirror was also on his desk.
Snape and the other professors were converging in front of the cracked door of his office.
Quirrell was currently facing off against the three-headed dog.
All of this was displayed in the swirling smoke of the Mist Condenser.
Curiosity was written all over Dumbledore's blue eyes.
He wasn't paying attention to Quirrell (controlled by Voldemort) firing spells at the three-headed dog.
He wasn't paying attention to Snape's gloomy face as his colleagues gave him weird looks.
His gaze was focused entirely on Basil's face—which resembled Grindelwald's—and the strange, light-resistant Devil's Snare that had moved its entire "body" out of the stall.
"Basil Granger... let's see what kind of power you possess as a Grand Wizard."
A voice came from the silver mirror. "That boy is truly unlucky to be watched by you."
Dumbledore, you manipulative old goat!
In the bathroom, Basil shivered.
"What should we do?" Hermione began reciting incantations under her breath.
Ron was filled with regret. "If I'd known, I wouldn't have pestered Basil with all those questions!"
Harry's nose twitched. "I smell something! It's like Dudley's sweaty socks mixed with a nasty public toilet!"
Then, he clamped his mouth shut.
Because a low grumbling sound and the noise of massive feet dragging across the floor were getting louder.
Basil drew his wand directly, and the [Dragon Knight] skin manifested.
He wasn't panicked at all; in fact, he had the leisure to complain internally. Seriously, I was planning to use [Veritaserum Connoisseur] and the Killing Curse. Looks like I have to change plans. The [Dragon Knight], with its Troll Whisker core, might actually be more suitable.
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