Chapter 23 — Don't Tell Anyone Outside That I Taught You Defense Against the Dark Arts
"I…I don't know…" Quirrell stammered, looking completely innocent, trembling all over. "I… I just saw that troll charging around in the dungeons. I had no idea it would… end up… wherever it is now!"
Dracula fixed him with a piercing gaze. Quirrell, terrified, quickly averted his eyes.
"Do as you like. Wherever you plan to sneak off to next is your business," Dracula said, patting Quirrell on the shoulder, his eyes deep and unreadable.
Then he left the Great Hall again. In the deserted corridor of the entrance courtyard, he held the Hogwarts deed in his hands, channeling his magic into the ancient parchment.
Dracula's power interwove with the marks of the four founders, slowly forming a magical grid resembling the Hogwarts castle.
Every magic node in the castle appeared vividly on the parchment. Gradually, the structures of the castle grew more distinct, every corner rendered in meticulous detail.
Dracula focused on the Great Hall on the parchment, seeing young witches and wizards being led by their House prefects, their faces reflecting the delight of the Halloween feast and the disappointment that it ended too soon, as they reluctantly made their way toward the common rooms.
He also noticed Professor Snape striding toward the restricted corridor on the fourth floor, as if ignoring everything around him.
Quirrell, by contrast, seemed frozen in place, standing dumbly in front of the giant pumpkin, motionless.
Under such complete surveillance, the missing troll was soon located by Dracula as well.
Just as he was about to enjoy the little show unfolding on the live parchment, two sneaky figures caught his attention.
"Huh?"
Dracula raised an eyebrow in surprise and vanished from sight.
…
The scene cut back to the earlier feast. Harry was eating a potato with the skin on when Professor Quirrell had suddenly burst into the Great Hall, terrified, warning about the troll.
Percy, the Gryffindor prefect, was well-practiced in handling such situations and guided the young lions toward the Gryffindor common room on the eighth floor, weaving through the crowd of Hufflepuffs.
However, as they began ascending the stairs to the eighth floor, Harry suddenly remembered something. His face paled with worry as he grabbed Ron's arm.
"I just remembered—Hermione!" he said urgently to Ron.
"What about her?" Ron blinked, slightly puzzled.
Earlier that morning, during a Charms lesson, Ron had been annoyed by Hermione's constant nagging. He had complained to Harry about her, even saying she should reflect on why she didn't have a single friend.
By coincidence, Hermione had overheard Ron's criticism.
The fiercely proud young witch had been deeply upset and, not wanting anyone to see her vulnerability, had spent the entire afternoon in hiding—not even attending the Halloween feast.
Harry suddenly recalled something he had overheard just before the feast began—
While everyone was heading to the Great Hall, Hermione's roommate, Parvati Patil, had told Lavender that Hermione had been crying in the girls' bathroom, refusing consolation from anyone.
Harry realized Hermione wasn't with the Gryffindor group. She might be facing the troll all alone!
"Ron, Hermione doesn't know about the troll!" he said anxiously. "She didn't attend the feast because of us—we can't just leave her!"
The red-haired boy bit his lip firmly.
"Oh… alright," he said decisively. "But let's make sure Percy doesn't see us."
Having made the decision, Harry and Ron crouched down, blending into the weaving Hufflepuff crowd as they moved in a different direction.
They quietly slipped down an empty side corridor, rushing toward the girls' bathroom.
The stench grew stronger, accompanied by low growls and the heavy thudding of massive feet dragging along the floor.
In the next moment, a horrifying sight slammed into their view—
A twelve-foot-tall monster suddenly appeared around the corner!
Its dull, grayish skin resembled granite. Its enormous, clumsy body looked like a mound of boulders, topped with a tiny head no bigger than a cocoa bean.
Its stubby legs were as thick as tree stumps, ending in broad, calloused feet. A foul stench, a mix of rotten socks and a long-neglected public restroom, emanated from the creature, making it almost unbearable.
It clutched a thick wooden club in its hands, dragging it across the floor with a screeching, bone-chilling noise.
…
The Halloween feast had ended. The thunderclouds conjured by the weather charms had dissipated, and bright moonlight poured through the tall windows of Hogwarts.
In the shadows beneath the moon, a single, glossy bat hung upside down.
It seemed—perhaps by chance—that the bat was curiously observing the scene inside the girls' bathroom.
Following the bat's gaze, one could see a fierce struggle unfolding on the first-floor girls' bathroom.
The troll, repeatedly provoked by Ron, had shifted its attention from Hermione, cornering Ron against the wall.
Seeing this, Harry steeled himself and leapt forward.
He wrapped his arms around the troll's neck from behind, and as he jumped, thrust his wand directly into one of the troll's nostrils.
The troll roared in pain, thrashing wildly and swinging its club, as if ready to fling Harry off and strike him with a crushing blow.
At that critical moment, the troll suddenly froze in place.
Caught off guard, Harry lost his grip and fell from the troll's back.
In the corner, Ron gripped his wand tightly, staring at the motionless troll, unsure what to do.
"Mr. Potter, if anyone asks later, make sure you don't say you learned Defense Against the Dark Arts from me. I can't afford to be embarrassed."
A familiar voice rang out at the bathroom entrance.
Harry looked toward the source, his face lighting up. There, bathed in moonlight, stood a tall figure with silver hair and crimson eyes, looking at him with mild disdain.
"Professor Dracula!!" Harry shouted joyfully, ignoring the disapproving look entirely.
Then, his strength seemed to vanish. The courage that had propelled him onto the troll's back felt like a fleeting illusion, leaving only a wave of fear. He collapsed weakly to the floor.
Dracula waved his hand, sweeping away the stench and foul air, then stepped forward to stand beside the three young wizards.
"Mr. Potter, recite the lesson from the first class," he said coolly, looking at Harry on the floor. "When faced with a dangerous situation, what is the most appropriate way to respond?"
…
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