The October night sky hung low. Shadows of clouds drifted slowly across the tables, and the warm orange glow of the jack-o'-lanterns flickered like ripples in a pond.
The sweet scent of roasted pumpkin and cinnamon filled the air around the long tables, and the students' plates were piled high with treacle tart.
All around the hall, people were hooting like owls or tossing Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans into their mouths, the sound of their laughter nearly lifting the roof. Dumbledore sat in the center of the staff table, the dancing candlelight reflecting in his half-moon spectacles.
Suddenly, the boisterous noise of the Halloween feast was violently cut short by Professor Quirrell's piercing shriek.
"Troll—in the dungeons!"
The Great Hall instantly exploded into chaos. The younger students, in particular, panicked and surged toward the doors, scrambling to escape. The professors shouted loudly, trying to maintain order.
"SILENCE!"
At Dumbledore's bellow, everyone froze in place.
Dumbledore stood up quickly, his hawk-like gaze sweeping over the room. He immediately ordered the prefects to lead the students in an orderly evacuation. Meanwhile, the professors hurried toward the dungeons. Only one "black bat" hesitated for a fraction of a second before sprinting upstairs instead.
Sitting at the Ravenclaw table, Julien—despite knowing the plot—was still startled by Quirrell's bloodcurdling scream and spilled a fair amount of his pumpkin juice.
Quirrell's terrified act was honestly a failure. The trembling, the shifting eyes... it all looked like a carefully rehearsed performance.
Quirrell's true goal, of course, was to use the troll to create chaos and draw everyone's attention, allowing him to sneak into the forbidden corridor alone, try to break through the final obstacles, and steal the Sorcerer's Stone!
But what did any of that have to do with Julien? Harry and the others would handle it.
Julien's gaze drifted involuntarily toward the Gryffindor line. He had already spotted Harry and Ron slipping away from their group, sprinting toward the girls' bathroom.
Looks like Hermione is still having a hard time getting along with her classmates, Julien thought, smiling and shaking his head.
However, just as he was debating whether to follow the crowd and evacuate or tag along with Harry to watch the show, a completely different kind of jolt struck his chest.
This sudden palpitation felt like an instinctual warning from his very bloodline. It wasn't coming from the dungeons; it was coming from... the fourth floor! The north corridor!
Trolls were stupid, but the raw, violent magic contained within their bodies was like a scorching branding iron, indiscriminately burning everything in its path.
And the north side of the fourth floor—the room holding the Mirror of Erised and the sealed stone tablet—was suddenly making Julien intensely uneasy.
If the troll went on a rampage through the castle, could it damage the mirror? Why was his heart suddenly seized with panic over this?
"Damn it," Julien cursed under his breath. He couldn't just ignore it. He had to go check.
Instead of following Harry and Ron, he turned and sprinted against the chaotic flow of the crowd, heading for the fourth floor as fast as he could.
"Hey, where are you going?" Edgar yelled after him.
"The girls' bathroom!" Julien replied casually, disappearing from sight in the blink of an eye.
"Did he eat something bad?" Casen asked, looking confused. "I saw him eat a lot of pumpkin pasties earlier."
"Is eating something bad really the main issue here?" Edgar was slightly exasperated with his roommate.
"Oh, right. Why is he going to the girls' bathroom?"
"The point is, we have a bathroom in our own dorm! Why is he going there?!"
"..."
---
By the time Julien arrived at the fourth-floor north corridor, panting heavily, the dull thuds of impact and the booming sound of crumbling walls could already be heard in the distance.
The troll's massive grey silhouette loomed in and out of the shadows at the corner of the corridor. It seemed to have been drawn by some noise and was lumbering clumsily in this direction!
Julien's heart leaped into his throat. He couldn't let the troll get near that door!
There was no time to hesitate. He quickly ducked into an empty classroom and pulled a small vial of Thestral Dust—a rare material capable of briefly distorting light and sound, given to him by his grandfather Alphard—from the inner pocket of his robes.
He sprinkled the powder over the tip of his wand and began softly chanting a secret silencing ward passed down in the Black family.
An almost invisible, semi-transparent magical barrier expanded silently, enveloping the room housing the Mirror of Erised and a ten-foot radius around it.
This ward couldn't block physical attacks, but it could absorb and neutralize the vast majority of magical fluctuations. It also minimized the room's presence, essentially "erasing" this pocket of space from the troll's chaotic perception.
Having done all this, Julien held his breath and hid behind the door.
The troll's heavy footsteps drew closer and closer. Its massive body squeezed through the narrow corridor, its single eye scanning its surroundings blankly. When it was only a few steps away from the door, it suddenly stopped in its tracks, looking confused, as if it had lost its target.
It sniffed the air in bewilderment, let out a low grunt, and then turned, shambling away toward a noisier direction—the passageway leading down.
Julien's tightly wound nerves finally relaxed for a second. It worked. It's safe for now.
But before he could leave, he faintly heard Hermione's scream echoing from downstairs. They had already run into it!
Julien immediately spun around and sprinted silently down another staircase.
When he reached the corridor outside the girls' bathroom, he witnessed a heart-stopping scene: the troll had raised its massive, several-hundred-pound club high into the air and was bringing it down hard on Hermione, who was trapped in a stall!
Down below, Harry and Ron were jumping and shouting, desperately trying to draw its attention, but they looked so incredibly small and powerless.
He had to admit, Gryffindors were truly reckless! In the blink of an eye, the two young wizards grabbed rocks and chunks of debris from the floor and hurled them straight at the troll's head.
If you had to ask whether getting hit in the head by a rock or a chunk of debris hurt more... the conclusion would definitely be that the head hurt! The troll slowly turned its massive head to look at Ron.
Why didn't it look at Harry? Because Harry had already sneaked up behind it, leaped into the air, and mounted its neck.
Having secured the high ground, Harry—still plagued by Muggle thinking—completely forgot to use any magical attacks. Instead, he simply used his wand like a dagger, jabbing it straight forward over the troll's face.
By pure coincidence, the wand jammed directly up the troll's nostril, inflicting immense, stinging pain.
Furious and humiliated, the troll reached back, grabbed Harry by the ankle, and hoisted him upside down, swinging its massive club to smash him.
Relying on the core strength he had developed from years of dodging beatings, Harry curled his body up like a shrimp, narrowly avoiding the troll's strike. He yelled out quite calmly, "Help! Think of something, quick!"
Expecting Ron to come up with a plan was impossible. Fortunately, Hermione—the brains of the operation—thought of the only spell she was truly proficient in. Since she didn't have her wand, she could only gesture frantically at Ron. "Wingardium Leviosa!"
"WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!!!" Ron screamed the Levitation Charm with everything he had. Because he was so nervous, his wand shook violently, perfectly mimicking the "swish and flick" Professor Flitwick had taught them.
Logically speaking, with Ron's level of magical power, there was absolutely no way he could move such a heavy weapon. The club only wobbled slightly.
At that critical, hair-raising moment, Julien, hidden in the shadows of the corridor corner, already had his wand raised. His lips moved slightly, silently casting the exact same spell, but with a magical output far exceeding that of a normal student.
The two streams of magic merged in mid-air. Ron's spell acted as the fuse, while Julien's magic provided the true engine.
The club jolted violently, then shot incredibly upward, as if yanked by an invisible hand. It rose higher and higher, completely tearing free from the troll's grasp!
Just as the club reached its highest point, Julien slashed his wand downward and silently cast another spell.
"Deprimo Profundis!"