chapter 13

It had been an awkward start Halloween. Charms class had been a disaster, especially between Ron and Hermione. Professor Flitwick had been teaching us the Levitation Charm—Wingardium Leviosa. Most struggled with the swish-and-flick motion, but Hermione had nailed it almost immediately. Of course, she couldn't resist correcting Ron's pronunciation. "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa," she had said, emphasizing the syllables carefully. "Not Leviosah."

Ron, already frustrated, had taken it personally. After class, he muttered under his breath to Harry, loud enough for both me and Hermione to hear. "She's a nightmare, honestly. No wonder she doesn't have any friends."

Hermione had heard him, and I saw the hurt flash across her face before she quickly turned and hurried away. I knew what was coming next—her storming off to hide, probably in the girls' bathroom. I felt a tug of guilt. She didn't deserve that, and Ron's words had cut deep.

I wanted to say something, but the Halloween feast was beginning, and I found myself swept along with the crowd. The hall was filled with laughter and chatter, but I couldn't focus on anything. Hermione hadn't shown up, and I had a sinking feeling in my gut. I could have gone after her, but I hesitated. The knowledge that I held—the understanding of this world's events and the things that were supposed to happen—often left me second-guessing myself. If I acted now, would I change things too much? But could I really just sit back and let things unfold?

Before I could make a decision, the doors to the Great Hall burst open, and Professor Quirrell came stumbling in. His face was pale, and his eyes were wide with terror as he gasped, "Troll—in the dungeons—thought you ought to know…"

And with that, he collapsed in a heap on the floor.

Chaos erupted almost immediately. Students screamed and jumped from their seats, knocking over plates in their rush to flee. I felt my stomach drop as the noise grew louder, but before it could spiral out of control, Dumbledore's voice rang out, amplified over the din.

"SILENCE!" he commanded, and the hall fell quiet. "Prefects will lead their houses back to the dormitories. Teachers, follow me to the dungeons."

Students began filing out, but my mind was already racing. Hermione didn't know about the troll. She wasn't in the Great Hall, and she wouldn't know the danger she was in. My gut told me she was still in the girls' bathroom, upset and completely unaware of what was happening.

Without waiting for Harry or Ron, I bolted from the Great Hall, slipping away unnoticed in the chaos. My legs carried me through the corridors as fast as they could, my heart pounding in my chest. The knowledge from my past life was no comfort now—this was real. This was dangerous. I had no time to second-guess myself.

The further I ran, the quieter the castle became. Students had been led away, leaving only the echo of my footsteps and the eerie silence of empty hallways. My mind raced as I neared the girls' bathroom, but my body moved with a determination that I hadn't felt in a long time. I couldn't let this play out as it had in the books. I couldn't risk Hermione's life.

As I rounded the corner, a foul stench hit me like a wall—rotten meat and filth, the unmistakable smell of the troll. And then I heard it—a low, menacing growl.

The troll was enormous, even more intimidating in person than I had imagined. Towering at least twelve feet tall, its lumpy gray skin glistened in the dim light. In its massive hand, it dragged a wooden club, thick and heavy enough to crush anyone who crossed its path. The ground seemed to shake with each of its lumbering steps.

I didn't hesitate. I pulled out my wand and stepped forward, my heart racing but my mind clear. I had studied magic far beyond what was expected of a first-year, and now was the time to put it to use.

"$Glisseo!$" I muttered in Parseltongue, aiming my wand at the stone floor beneath the troll. Instantly, the ground became slick and smooth, like ice. The troll, already unsteady on its feet, slipped and stumbled, its massive body crashing into the walls as it struggled to stay upright. The floor trick had bought me a few precious seconds.

The troll let out a confused grunt and turned toward the bathroom door, where Hermione was. I could hear her inside, whimpering in fear. My chest tightened, but I couldn't afford to be distracted by emotion now. I needed to act.

Raising my wand, I cast "$Incarcerous!$" . Thick ropes shot out, wrapping tightly around the troll's legs. The creature roared, swinging its club in fury, but the ropes held—for now. I knew it wouldn't last long. The troll was too strong, and the ropes were already straining under its weight.

As the troll struggled, I flicked my wand again. "$Oppugno!$" I directed the debris from the hallway—broken shards of stone and glass—toward the troll. The sharp fragments flew through the air, swirling around the troll's head like a storm of razor blades. The troll roared again, swatting at the air as it tried to fend off the assault.

It was distracted, but not for long. With a flick of my wand "$Fera Verto!$", I transfigured the remains of a nearby statue into chains, which coiled around the troll's arms, pulling them tightly to its sides. The troll bellowed in frustration, its movements now severely restricted.

I could feel the strain of the magic weighing on me, but I couldn't let up. Not yet.

The troll, now bound and furious, staggered toward me, its beady eyes locked on its new target. I stepped back, carefully positioning myself between the troll and the bathroom door. I needed to keep its focus on me.

Just then, in the corner of my eye, I saw Harry and Ron enter the bathroom. They must have followed me after realizing where Hermione was.

"Potter, Get her out of here!" I shouted over the roar of the troll, not taking my eyes off the creature.

Harry and Ron, wide-eyed and clearly terrified, didn't need to be told twice. They rushed into the bathroom, and moments later, I saw them dragging Hermione out, her face pale. She glanced at me, her eyes wide with disbelief, but I didn't have time to explain. The troll had finally freed one of its arms from the chains and was now swinging its club wildly again.

"Go!" I yelled as they pulled Hermione down the hall. I needed to finish this.

The troll turned toward me, its small eyes narrowing in rage. It swung its club down with all its might, aiming to crush me where I stood. I dodged to the side just in time, the club smashing into the stone floor with a deafening crash.

I knew I couldn't keep dodging forever. I needed to end this now.

Taking a deep breath, I aimed my wand at the ceiling above the troll's head. "Reducto!" I shouted, focusing all my energy on the spell.

The ceiling cracked and crumbled as large chunks of stone came crashing down on the troll. The creature let out one last roar of frustration before it collapsed under the weight of the debris. Dust filled the air, and for a moment, the only sound was the echo of falling rubble.

I stood there, panting from the effort, but the troll wasn't getting up again. The bathroom was a mess of shattered tiles, broken sinks, and fallen rubble, but the immediate danger was over.

I felt a wave of relief wash over me, but it was quickly replaced by exhaustion. My hands were trembling from the strain of the magic, and I could feel the adrenaline leaving my body.

Just as I was about to speak, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor. McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell came rushing toward us. McGonagall's sharp gaze immediately took in the scene—me standing with my wand still raised, debris and broken stone everywhere, and the unconscious troll lying in a heap.

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, her stern composure faltered. "What… what is the meaning of this?" she demanded, her voice filled with equal parts shock and anger.

Before Hermione could step forward and offer an explanation, I raised my hand, cutting her off with grin. "Professor, it seems you've caught me at a bad time," I said, waving my wand in the air as if to sweep the dust from my robe. "I was in the middle of making a rather large, lumpy friend take a nap."

McGonagall blinked, her eyes flicking to the troll and back to me. "A troll, Mr. Sayre?"

I shrugged nonchalantly. "Yes, but in my defense, he was the grumpy sort. You know how it is—big clubs, small minds. He didn't take kindly to polite conversation."

From behind her, I saw Snape narrow his eyes, clearly unamused. Quirrell though was studying me in a way that sent shivers down my spine.

"This is not a time for jokes, Mr. Sayre," she said, though her voice was a touch softer than before. "This was incredibly reckless. How did you—"

I interrupted her again. "You'd be surprised what a bit of improvisation and charm can do when you're faced with a giant club-wielding troll. And some well-placed rubble doesn't hurt either."

Hermione stepped forward, ready to take the blame as she had planned, but I gave her a small shake of my head, signaling her to stay quiet.

McGonagall frowned, folding her arms. "Mr. Sayre, I understand that humor might be your way of deflecting, but this was an extremely dangerous situation."

I nodded, the grin still on my face, though I softened my tone. "I know, Professor, but Miss Granger wasn't at fault. I… I sensed something was wrong and came here to help her. The troll was already on its way in, so I just took action."

For a moment, McGonagall looked between me and the troll, her stern expression wavering as if she were deciding whether to scold me or commend me.

Snape's eyes flickered with suspicion, and he stepped forward, his voice cold. "And how, exactly, did a first-year student manage to subdue a full-grown mountain troll?"

I raised an eyebrow and gave Snape a nonchalant shrug. "Well, Professor, it turns out trolls are rather susceptible to Transfiguration, being as it's not exactly the magic hitting them but actual items."

Snape's lip curled slightly, clearly displeased with my answer, but McGonagall stepped in before he could probe further. "Regardless of how you managed it, Mr. Sayre, you put yourself—and your classmates—in grave danger."

I nodded, this time more seriously. "I know, Professor. But it worked out in the end, didn't it?"

McGonagall sighed heavily, pressing her lips into a thin line. "It seems it did. However, ten points will be taken from Slytherin for your recklessness, and I will be having a word with the head of your house about this."

I winced internally at the mention of Snape being involved but kept my face calm. "Thank you, Professor."

Before she could continue, Hermione finally spoke up, her voice shaking slightly. "I'm sorry, Professor. I didn't mean to—"

But I interrupted her again, this time with a more gentle smile. "Don't worry, Miss Granger. I've got this one covered." I turned to McGonagall, bowing slightly in an exaggerated manner. "Sorry for all the trouble, I'll be sure to be more careful in the future, Professor."

McGonagall gave me a sharp look but couldn't hide the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I certainly hope so, Mr. Sayre. Now, all of you, back to your dormitories. And do not—under any circumstances—let this happen again."

With that, she turned, motioning for the other professors to follow as they approached the unconscious troll.

Harry and Ron, still pale and wide-eyed, stood frozen for a moment, clearly processing everything that had just happened.

As we made our way back through the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts, the aftermath of the troll incident still lingered between us. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the sound of our footsteps echoing through the hall. I could feel the weight of Ron's gaze on me, but it wasn't filled with the fear I had expected. Instead, there was something else—a simmering jealousy that I hadn't anticipated.

Ron finally spoke, his voice tight and tinged with frustration. "What… what were you saying back there, Greyson? It sounded like you were hissing or something. How did you even manage those spells?"

I glanced at him, catching the way his face twisted slightly, not just in confusion but in something closer to envy. Now, it seemed he resented me for the power I had shown—power that had been beyond his reach.

Hermione, walking beside him, chimed in with her usual sharp curiosity. "Yes, I heard it too. You weren't using normal incantations, Greyson. You were hissing, and yet the spells still worked. I've never seen anything like it in any of the books I've read."

I could feel their questions circling, and I knew I needed to tread carefully. Before I could respond, Harry, who had been quiet until now, spoke up, his tone confused. "What are you two talking about? I didn't hear any hissing—just spells, like usual."

Ron and Hermione exchanged perplexed glances. "You didn't hear it?" Ron asked, his eyes narrowing. "He wasn't saying any spells we've learned. It was like he was speaking in some weird language."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "Yes, it was different. It didn't sound like anything we've practiced."

I could feel their attention turning back to me, especially Hermione's. Her mind was working overtime, I could see it in the way her brow furrowed. She was too smart to let this go easily, but I wasn't ready to explain that I had been using Parseltongue to give my spells a boost for the troll. Not yet. The best I could do was deflect and hope they wouldn't press further.

I gave a small shrug, adopting a casual, easygoing smile. "You probably just heard things differently because of the chaos. I mean, we were facing down a troll—it's easy for your senses to get a little muddled with all that noise and adrenaline."

Ron looked skeptical but didn't argue, though the jealousy in his eyes deepened. "Yeah, well, whatever it was, it worked. But next time, maybe don't make it so… weird."

I chuckled lightly, trying to diffuse the tension. "Fair enough. It's not every day you're in a bathroom with a troll, so I can't promise it'll be completely normal next time either."

Harry, seemingly satisfied with my explanation, gave a small nod. "Yeah, must've been that. It all sounded fine to me."

Hermione, however, wasn't so easily convinced. She studied me for a moment longer, her eyes flicking between me, Ron, and Harry, as if trying to piece together how we could have heard such different things. But to her credit, she didn't press the issue. At least not yet.

As we approached the entrance to the Gryffindor Tower, Ron glanced at me one more time, the tension still clear in his posture. He hated that I had handled the situation.

"You got lucky," Ron muttered under his breath, though it was clear he didn't fully believe that. "But yeah… thanks."

I grinned, pretending not to notice the underlying resentment in his voice. "Anytime, Weasley. Though I'll admit, I'd rather not make fighting trolls a regular thing."

Ron didn't respond, but I could tell he wasn't entirely happy with the way things had played out. He had expected to be the hero, or at the very least, someone who could contribute. Instead, I had stolen that role, much to my exhaustion. I could feel that jealousy simmering just beneath the surface, and I knew this wasn't the last time it would come up being as he is with the the boy hero of this story.

Hermione turned to me as we reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, her expression softening. "Whatever it was you did, Greyson, you saved me. Thank you."

Harry gave me a cautious nod. "Yeah… thanks."

With that, they disappeared into the Gryffindor common room, leaving me alone in the corridor. I stood there for a moment, watching the portrait hole close behind them.

Feeling the exhaustion from the overused of magic I turned an headed straight for my room to shower and sleep, as tomorrow will be an even more hectic day with how rumors travel through Hogwarts.