"Allen, are you incredibly hungry today?" Edward asked, looking genuinely surprised. Allen was usually a meticulous and slow eater, but today he was devouring his feast with unrestrained gusto.
Allen, wrestling with a particularly large piece of beef pie, mumbled a quick response. He knew the chaos that was about to erupt, courtesy of Professor Quirrell and his unexpected guest. If he didn't enjoy this magnificent meal now, the news of the troll would certainly cut the feast short.
While he suspected Gryffindor would somehow manage to continue their celebration back in their common room, Allen wasn't sure Ravenclaw would be so lucky, and he didn't intend to go to bed hungry.
Wiping his mouth, Allen quickly scanned the Great Hall. The Know-it-all, Hermione Granger, was conspicuously absent from the Gryffindor table; Harry and Ron were busy eating. Perfect. Allen stood up from his seat, turning to Edward.
"My stomach feels a bit dodgy, actually. I need to visit the nearest lavatory quickly."
Edward looked momentarily concerned. "You digested all that so fast today?"
Allen nodded vaguely and moved toward the exit.
He knew that the Ravenclaw common room library held detailed information on trolls—magical creatures famed for their incredible brute strength and abysmal intellect. They were inherently violent, acting purely on instinct. In fact, due to their profound stupidity, the lowest grade possible on wizarding exams was denoted by the letter 'T' for Troll.
Allen immediately recognized this as a prime opportunity. Successfully handling the troll would score significant points for Ravenclaw and boost his reputation and influence among the student body.
He decided to confront the massive idiot before Quirrell rushed in to raise the alarm. This way, he could avoid potential punishment from the professors. After all, he wasn't Harry Potter; he couldn't rely on being the 'Boy Who Lived' for impunity.
"The points add up little by little. As long as we achieve a sufficiently high score, even Dumbledore, if he attempts to cheat, won't dare to casually overturn our lead. The House Cup will be Ravenclaw's," Allen mused internally. Having successfully cast the Disillusionment Charm, he was now moving swiftly through the corridors toward the girls' lavatory on the first floor.
Allen positioned himself strategically in the corridor near the lavatories, pressing himself against the cool stone wall. The empty passageway was silent, until a moment later, Professor Quirinus Quirrell emerged from a nearby side passage.
The stuttering Professor, his large turban slightly askew, hurried past Allen's invisible form, heading straight toward the Great Hall. Allen waited a few beats, then proceeded down the corridor in the direction Quirrell had come from.
He didn't want the troll to reach the girls' lavatory first, as that would give Harry and Ron an immediate opportunity to intervene and hog all the glory (and the points).
Just moments later, inside Hogwarts's Great Hall, as the merriment peaked, Professor Quirrell burst through the massive doors. His face was a mask of terror, and his turban seemed to be threatening to unravel. He staggered over to Professor Dumbledore's high chair, leaned heavily against the staff table, and gasped dramatically: "Troll… in the dungeons… thought you ought to know."
Having delivered his lines with exaggerated panic, Quirrell gave a theatrical shudder, clutched his chest, and collapsed dramatically onto the floor in a dead faint.
Immediate pandemonium erupted among the students. Dumbledore was forced to fire his wand into the air, setting off a series of crackling, ear-splitting fireworks directly above his head until a semblance of silence returned.
"Prefects," the Hogwarts Headmaster commanded in a voice like a deep gong, "immediately escort your House students back to their dormitories!"
Penelope Clearwater, the Ravenclaw Prefect, stood up instantly. "Ravenclaw students, single file. Follow me." With this brisk command, Edward quickly fell into line with his Housemates. He noticed the Prefect herself was practically invisible amid the anxious crowd.
Just as the Ravenclaw group was about to depart, Edward looked around frantically and called out to the Prefect. "Oh, goodness, Prefect Clearwater! Allen went to the bathroom because of an upset stomach. He definitely didn't hear the warning about the troll!"
Meanwhile, Allen, already rounding a corner in the deserted corridor, was struck by an immediate, foul odor—a noxious combination of rancid socks and an uncleaned public latrine. Then he heard a low, guttural grunting sound and the heavy, dragging shuffle of large feet on the stone floor.
The troll slowly lumbered into view—a sight that would have sent most other first-years screaming in panic. It stood three and a half meters tall, its skin a dull, mottled gray like rough granite. Its massive, clumsy body resembled a huge mound of moving mud, topped by a ridiculously tiny head, no bigger than a coconut.
Its short legs were as thick as tree trunks, and its feet were flat and heavily calloused. The stench radiating from it was overwhelming. Its long, thick arms dragged a massive wooden club, which scraped loudly against the flagstones.
"He is an absolute imbecile," Allen murmured to himself. From a safe distance, he raised his wand and fired a standard stunning spell, simply to gauge its resilience. The spell hit the troll squarely in the shoulder.
The troll blinked its small, ugly eyes and slowly turned its bulbous nose toward Allen. It took a comical moment for its tiny brain to register that this small figure had just attacked it. The troll let out a deafening roar, raised its thick wooden club high, and clumsily charged toward Allen.
"Just as the books state, the troll's physique and hide grant it a significant degree of magic resistance," Allen noted, nodding thoughtfully. He ceased aiming direct spells at the troll and instead targeted the floor directly in front of the creature's charging feet.
With a precise swish and a mental push of his magic, he cast an advanced Transfiguration spell, causing a sudden, sharp protrusion to swell rapidly from the flagstone in the troll's path.
The enraged giant, whose brain capacity clearly didn't allow for quick change detection, didn't notice the sudden elevation. It immediately stumbled violently, its massive momentum throwing it forward into a headlong plunge.
Simultaneously, Allen controlled the thick wooden club that had slipped from the giant's grasp, directing it with a Wingardium Leviosa to the exact spot where the troll was about to fall.
A deafening CRACK! followed by a thunderous THUD shook the entire corridor. The giant's head had crashed directly into the wooden club Allen had deliberately positioned as a blunt weapon. A sickening crack indicated the troll's pitiful skull had fractured, with fragments of what little brain matter it possessed leaking out onto the floor.
"It's remarkably simple, actually, to deal with these magic-resistant creatures by leveraging the environment," Allen summarized, already lowering his wand. "But it obviously requires a higher degree of calmness and control than most wizards possess."
A moment later, a flurry of heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor. Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall rounded the corner first, followed closely by a scowling Professor Snape, with the now-awakened Quirrell trailing nervously behind them.
Quirrell caught sight of the slumped troll, let out a pathetic whimper, clutched his chest with an exaggerated dramatic flourish, and collapsed onto the ground once more, feigning unconsciousness.
Snape leaned over the fallen creature for a brief, critical inspection, while McGonagall stared at Allen, her lips pressed into a thin, deathly white line.
"Allen Harris, what kind of reckless games have you students been playing?" McGonagall's voice was dangerously low and cold. "You are incredibly fortunate you were not killed! Why did you ignore the warnings and fail to return to your dormitory?"
"I did not hear any warning, Professor," Allen replied, meeting McGonagall's furious gaze with feigned innocence. "I was out using the restroom. I certainly did not anticipate encountering a Mountain Troll in what is supposedly the safest castle in the world. I was actually about to ask what kind of games the school is playing, allowing this beast to wander the corridors."
Snape shot Allen a quick, sharp, assessing look, as if trying to discern the truth behind his calm words.
Meanwhile, Ravenclaw Head of House Flitwick rushed forward, his voice high-pitched with palpable concern. "Allen, are you quite alright? Professor McGonagall, Allen's Head of House, Edward, reported to me. He truly went to the lavatory before Professor Quirrell gave the warning. The situation was chaotic, and there was no time to explain."
Allen's voice softened as he addressed his own Head of House. "No, I'm perfectly fine, Dean Flitwick. Though the smell is atrocious."
"Ah, if that is truly the case… then the fault lies entirely with Hogwarts' security," Professor McGonagall conceded, her embarrassment showing. In truth, her initial anger stemmed from pure terror that a student might have been harmed. She had, after all, just passed the Harry Potter trio running toward the danger, which made her assume Allen was similarly seeking a reckless adventure.
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat several times, adjusting her spectacles. "Mr. Harris, I shall award Ravenclaw twenty points for single-handedly neutralizing a full-grown Mountain Troll. I must say, most first-years would be incapable of handling such a beast. I am impressed you utilized the advanced Transfiguration spell you were recently taught, and employed it so effectively in combat."
Snape's sharp gaze remained fixed on the wooden club lying beneath the troll's broken head. His voice was laced with its usual acid sarcasm. "Our first-year genius also possesses exceptionally precise control, Professor. That club was positioned there quite deliberately. It seems Mr. Harris's mind is far more complex than we perhaps realized."
Though missing the hostile undertone in Snape's voice, Flitwick happily agreed with the Slytherin Head, praising: "A brilliant application of the Levitation Charm, Allen! Such tactical control is truly remarkable in a first-year student!"
Meanwhile, back in the corridors, Harry and Ron, who had just helped a distraught Hermione, eventually returned to the Gryffindor common room. Despite having just lost a substantial amount of points due to McGonagall's disciplinary actions, Harry and Ron were all smiles.
Hermione was still reeling from the shocking adventure; Harry and Ron had come to find her, despite knowing a troll was loose. Beyond the sheer terror, Hermione had experienced genuine friendship and the feeling of belonging for the first time at Hogwarts.
"I wonder if Hermione's bond with the trio would still be so unbreakable if they hadn't faced those shared, life-threatening adventures," Allen couldn't help but ponder, a slightly cynical grin forming as he walked back toward the Ravenclaw common room. "And Quirrell's acting… it was so grossly exaggerated, it's almost as if he was deliberately trying to draw suspicion to himself…"