Chapter 146: The Troll Is on the Fifth Floor!
Time: 6:30 PM, Fifth Floor, Hogwarts Castle.
Alexander Smith faded from visibility, quietly observing the unfolding chaos with a sigh.
In the original timeline, Quirrell had released the troll in the dungeon. Somehow, the creature had lumbered all the way up to the girls' bathroom on the second floor without drawing attention. Perhaps it was due to the noise of the Halloween feast—but still, it had always been suspicious.
This time, Alexander had altered the script.
He had embedded a protective curse into the troll—one that ensured the creature couldn't kill a student. It could injure, yes, perhaps a broken bone or two, but nothing life-threatening. A night in the hospital wing would be the worst outcome.
Additionally, to guide the troll toward the "stage" he'd prepared—the boys' bathroom on the fifth floor—Alexander had enchanted it with a suggestion to climb. The impulse would vanish once it reached its destination.
What astonished him was that no one had noticed the troll had made it to the fifth floor. Alexander shook his head in disbelief. How could something that large remain undetected?
Still, the most effective lure was in place: the pungent aroma of a recently occupied bathroom stall. That, combined with the troll's natural attraction to foul smells, made the fifth-floor bathroom a perfect trap.
"Ah—Crabbe," Alexander muttered. He cast a quick spell in the direction of the bathroom, easing Crabbe's suffering. The troll was almost there—Crabbe needed to recover quickly.
Inside the bathroom, Vincent Crabbe blinked in relief. After hours of intestinal torment that had begun back in Defense Against the Dark Arts, the painful rumbling in his gut had finally stopped.
Outside the stall, Goyle's voice echoed.
"Crabbe, are you in there?" He knocked firmly on the door.
"I'm here, Goyle. Did you bring me some food?" Crabbe asked, wiping cold sweat from his brow. He had just flushed the last of his misery and was now cautiously pulling his trousers back on.
"Hurry up! There's a troll in the dungeons. We need to move—upstairs, away from the danger," Goyle urged.
"I—I can't stand yet," Crabbe moaned, his voice strained.
At that moment, Draco Malfoy arrived on the fifth floor. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. The awful stench confirmed Crabbe's location. He followed the smell to the boys' bathroom.
Meanwhile, on the fourth floor staircase, Ron raised his hand and sniffed.
"You smell that?" he asked.
Harry nodded grimly as a putrid mixture—like old socks and unwashed public toilets—invaded his nostrils.
Then came the unmistakable sound: slow, dragging footsteps and a heavy grunt.
Peering around the corner, the boys spotted a hulking figure plodding along the corridor.
"It's heading up—to the fifth floor," Harry whispered. "Right where Malfoy went!"
Ron stared in disbelief. "You think someone put that troll in the castle just to follow Malfoy? Maybe some wizard who hates Death Eaters?"
Harry kept watching. "It's heading for the bathroom. The stink must be drawing it."
He pointed. "The key's still in the door. We could lock it in."
They waited.
The troll paused at the entrance, sniffed, swung its oversized ears, and then ducked inside.
"Harry, you're a genius—" Ron started to say, then stopped himself.
Now was the time to act.
The two boys crept forward, hearts pounding. Harry lunged, grabbed the key, and slammed the door shut.
Click.
"Locked!" he whispered triumphantly.
They stared at each other, wide-eyed and exhilarated. But as they turned to leave—
"Wait," Harry said, stopping Ron. "Crabbe didn't show up to the feast. Malfoy ran off. What if they're..."
Ron paled. "Still in there?!"
Inside the bathroom, Crabbe had finally managed to stand, leaning heavily on Goyle.
"Where's Draco?" he muttered, still dizzy.
"He's probably hiding in the common room—just like he ditched us back with Dursley," Goyle replied darkly.
"Gregory, what are you talking about—Vincent, that smell—ugh, we need to get out of here!" Draco had just arrived, pinching his nose and speaking in a nasal tone.
The moment he neared Crabbe, Draco realized with a jolt what the horrible odor had reminded him of.
"Let's just stay here. It's safe," Goyle suggested, uncertain.
"No. Trolls!" Draco snapped. "Vincent, can you walk?"
"I'm trying," Crabbe mumbled.
Draco was about to help when a familiar, sickening scent washed over him again—thicker, fouler.
His eyes widened. "That's not from Crabbe… that's something else—!"
Suddenly, the unmistakable sound of the troll's footsteps thundered closer.
"Hide!" Draco hissed.
He yanked Crabbe and Goyle into a side stall and gestured sharply for silence.
Though the two weren't exactly the brightest, they obeyed without question.
Draco, holding his breath, mentally thanked the stars that he hadn't led them into the stall Crabbe had previously used. But even from the next compartment, the stench was unbearable. It mingled with something stronger, muskier.
Troll.
THUD.
The troll burst into the bathroom.
"Down!" Draco yelled.
All three ducked.
The troll swung its massive club—and it just brushed past Crabbe's hair. Stall partitions exploded into splinters. A ruptured pipe sprayed yellow water across the floor.
Draco rolled away from the blast, eyes blazing.
A filthy beast—trying to harm him?
"Immobulus!" Draco bellowed, snarling.
The spell barely affected the troll—it had thick skin and formidable resistance to magic. But the impact made it wobble.
Draco wasn't alone.
Crabbe and Goyle, despite their lack of brains, had solid magical instincts. Their wands joined his, and they shouted in unison:
"Immobulus!"
The troll roared in pain as the spells hit its legs. While the resistance stopped them from fully paralyzing it, the creature lost its balance and crashed to the ground.
It roared again—more in humiliation than in pain—as it dropped its heavy club with a loud clunk.
(End of Chapter 146)
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