As he hurried back downstairs, he saw Quirrell stumbling towards the Great Hall. He had just run up from the dungeon stairs and quickly disappeared around a corner, seemingly not noticing Marcel on the second-floor staircase.
"A salute to the spirit of a master actor," Marcel said, snapping a salute while still running. He didn't break his stride and soon arrived in the dungeon corridor.
The moment he got there, he was hit by a composite stench of unwashed socks and an ancient public toilet.
"This smell mixed with the pumpkin scent from all over the castle is truly deadly."
Marcel looked up and saw the troll in the corridor, but it didn't seem to have noticed him.
"Stupefy!" Marcel drew his wand and fired a spell at it.
Thump!
The troll fell with the sound of the spell, which actually made Marcel pause for a moment. He remembered reading that trolls had a decent resistance to magic. How could it have been knocked out so easily?
Just as Marcel was pondering this, the troll struggled to its feet again. It seemed Marcel's memory was correct; its magic-resistant skin was a major trait inherited from giants.
Then, Marcel witnessed the troll's second major characteristic: it wasn't very bright.
It looked around, but the dungeon corridor was probably too dim, and it still hadn't spotted its attacker. Instead, as if hearing something, it used its brute strength to squeeze through a nearby doorway.
Immediately, Marcel heard a shrill, terrified scream.
"Its intelligence is even lower than I imagined. It looks like Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them needs a revision. The descriptions in there are too vague," Marcel complained to himself as he ran towards the sound.
"Hermione!"
Arriving at the doorway, Marcel immediately saw Hermione huddled under a sink, trembling as she stared at the furious troll.
The troll clearly hadn't noticed someone was behind it. It was striding towards Hermione, its large wooden club already swinging down toward her. The situation was critical; a Floating Charm would be too late.
"Depulso!" In his haste, Marcel barely managed to aim a banishing charm at the club in its hand.
The large club flew out of the troll's grasp, almost grazing the tips of Hermione's hair. It bounced off a corner wall and landed among the toilet stalls, smashing several of the partitions.
"Confringo!"
While the troll was still dazed from losing its club, Marcel aimed at the back of its neck and unleashed a powerful blast with all his might.
With a loud bang, a bowl-sized hole appeared on the back of the troll's neck. It was a bloody mess, and you could vaguely see the shattered cervical vertebrae inside.
The troll's massive body swayed, then crashed to the ground with a deafening thud, its limbs twitching a few times.
"Phew," Marcel let out a long breath. "If that had hit anywhere else, it probably would have just taken off a chunk of flesh. No wonder this big guy is famous for its thick skin!"
"M-Marcel!" Hermione, looking terrified, suddenly threw herself into Marcel's arms.
Feeling the beautiful, fragrant girl in his arms, his mind couldn't help but wander: "This little girl, what grade does she start developing in, again?"
"Ahem, it's okay, it's okay now." Feeling the girl in his arms trembling, he had to temporarily push aside his wild thoughts and comfort her.
Truth be told, Marcel didn't have any special feelings for the know-it-all Miss Granger, not even for her older self. But who would refuse a female protagonist throwing herself into his arms? Although it was for a good reason, it still made Marcel feel a little giddy.
To calm his racing heart, Marcel began to mutter something under his breath, from which one could vaguely hear nonsensical words like "three years" and "death penalty."
Suddenly, there was a loud sound of approaching footsteps. The two of them, still embracing, looked up. Hermione froze for a second, then pushed hard against Marcel's chest to put some distance between them.
Apparently, the commotion had been too loud. The violent crash and the troll's roars had attracted someone.
"Hermione!" "Marcel?"
It was Ron and Harry. They looked around in astonishment, not noticing Hermione's flushed face.
But before they could say anything else, Professor McGonagall burst into the bathroom, followed closely by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell only glanced at the troll before letting out a feeble sob, sitting down on a toilet, and clutching his chest.
Snape walked over to examine the troll. Professor McGonagall, however, was looking at the students, her lips white and her eyes wide with what was clearly a state of extreme anger.
"What on earth do you think you are doing?" Professor McGonagall said, her voice filled with cold fury.
Harry and Ron glanced at Marcel, who was still standing there with his wand in his hand.
"You're lucky you weren't killed! Why aren't you in your dormitories?" Professor McGonagall shouted. Marcel thought to himself that she was truly the Head of Gryffindor; when angry, she was just like the lion on her house crest.
"Oh..." "Please, Professor McGonagall, they were looking for me."
Marcel was about to speak but was interrupted by Hermione.
"Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall said, somewhat surprised. In her mind, Hermione Granger was an excellent student who followed the school rules to the letter.
Hermione finally managed to get to her feet, her knees still weak.
"I went looking for the troll because I—I thought I could handle it on my own. You know, because I've read all about them."
"Oh, Hermione, you don't have to do that," Marcel said, shaking his head. He had already stood up.
"Professor, I heard someone on my way to the Great Hall say that Miss Granger was in the bathroom," Marcel explained. "She was upset about something, so she stayed here instead of going to the feast."
"I was just coming to comfort her. You know, she's my friend," Marcel said with a shrug, an innocent expression on his face. "But who would have thought a troll would be rampaging through Hogwarts?"
"I think this warrants an investigation," Marcel said, giving Quirrell a meaningful look. But Quirrell was still covering his face and sobbing loudly, continuing his award-worthy performance.
"Ooh, if that's the case..." Professor McGonagall said, looking at them thoughtfully.
"Mr. Maclean, you used a Blasting Curse to shatter the troll's cervical vertebrae, did you not?" Snape said, shooting a cold glance at Harry before turning to Marcel.
Marcel's heart skipped a beat, but his face remained unchanged as he nodded.
"I believe so."
"Hmph. Impressive power. But perhaps you can explain where you learned it?" Snape said, staring at Marcel with a grim expression. "I don't believe 'curses' are part of the first-year curriculum, are they?"
Professor McGonagall turned to look at the wound on the troll. Blood was still pouring from it.
"...I'm self-taught," Marcel was forced to admit.
The situation just now had been too urgent, and he hadn't had time to think. He had just subconsciously chosen a suitable spell. Now that it was done, he could only be thankful that he was far from being able to master an Unforgivable Curse. Otherwise, if he had carelessly thrown a flash of green light, he would probably be on his way to Azkaban to make friends with the Dementors.
"Good heavens! You're only in your first year!"
Professor McGonagall seemed to finally snap back to reality. She rushed over and turned Marcel around, looking him over from head to toe. It seemed she was more concerned about her student's physical condition than the spell he had used.
"...Marcel."
Hermione looked at Marcel with a worried expression. She knew the classifications of spells very well. Curses were, without exception, dark magic, which required strong negative emotions to be cast successfully. Even the three Unforgivable Curses fell into this category.
However, unlike other curses, the Unforgivables were "unforgivable" because the Killing Curse and the Cruciatus Curse had no known counter-spells, while the Imperius Curse was judged by its highly disruptive nature—it could completely control a person's body and mind.
"Alright, alright, just a little exhausted... I mean, Mr. Maclean, you must provide a reasonable explanation for your actions!" Professor McGonagall seemed to let out a breath of relief, then, realizing her impropriety, immediately put on a stern face.
"Er, I think my progress might be a bit fast. I mean, I love to learn, and..." At this point, Marcel deliberately glanced at Hermione. "I hope I can protect the people I want to protect."
Hearing this, Hermione's face couldn't help but turn red again. Harry and Ron, standing next to Professor McGonagall, had no reaction. It seemed the saying that girls mature earlier than boys was true.
Professor McGonagall looked at Marcel, and the corners of her mouth couldn't help but curl up. In her eyes, Marcel's little-adult act was quite amusing.
Snape, however, looked back and forth between Marcel and Hermione without a word, his thoughts unreadable.
"Professor McGonagall, if Marcel hadn't saved me, I would have probably been eaten by the troll by now," Hermione pleaded.
"I believe we need to discuss the matter of the 'Blasting Curse' with Dumbledore," Professor McGonagall said. "However, I don't think a first-year student has ever defeated a mountain troll single-handedly before. You have earned Hufflepuff ten points."
"Now, you will come with me to the Headmaster's office. As for the rest of you," Professor McGonagall glanced at the others, "you may go."
Marcel glanced at the trio, then followed the departing Professor McGonagall with a seemingly calm demeanor, walking out of the bathroom door—or rather, what was left of its cracked and broken frame.
"Oh, I'll t-take c-care of this b-big fellow," Quirrell said, stuttering as he wiped his face.
Snape gave Harry one last cold look, then followed without turning back.
Hermione watched Marcel's retreating back with a worried expression. She had no idea whether Marcel would be expelled or not.
Harry and Ron had no such worries. Or rather, they hadn't thought that far.
"What's a 'curse'? That looked so cool!" Ron said, looking at the motionless troll on the floor. The bowl-sized wound was a bit scary.
"Yeah! Even that big bat who does nothing but insult people said 'impressive'! I can't believe it," Harry agreed with a nod.
"He was just being sarcastic to Marcel!" Hermione shouted.