"Roooar!"
The mountain troll bellowed and charged straight at Hermione.
"Locomotor Mortis!"
Its legs snapped together under the invisible bind, and the massive creature toppled forward with a crash.
Arthur blinked in surprise. Clever girl. Trolls were known for thick hides and resistance to offensive spells—but that only applied to attacks. The Leg-Locker Curse was basically a magical rope tying legs together, and on a troll it worked like a charm.
Hermione seized the moment to dash out of the girls' lavatory. On the run, she yanked a handful of second-generation magic grenades from her pocket and hurled them behind her.
Arthur's eyes nearly popped.
Merlin's beard—that's at least seven or eight of them at once!
He had modified those grenades himself. Their blasts were more focused now, each one capable of pulverizing a one-meter crater into granite.
Panicking, Arthur flicked his wrist, summoning every single grenade back into his hand before they detonated. Then he waved again—the troll's heavy club transformed into an iron rod, floated up, and slammed hard into the back of the troll's skull.
Duang!
A satisfying thud. The troll slumped unconscious.
"Cousin?" Hermione called, unable to see him through his Disillusionment Charm, though she knew he could cast silently.
"It's me." Arthur let himself reappear.
Relieved, Hermione immediately frowned.
"Why'd you take my grenades back?"
"What else—wait for you to blow a hole in the castle? Or splatter a troll into gore? You think we can afford the repair costs?"
Truth be told, he could afford them. He'd stopped her only because he didn't want her to see mangled flesh and bone. She was still a twelve-year-old witch. Besides, with professors rushing here soon, the last thing he needed was Snape docking points for "possessing dangerous contraband."
Hermione grudgingly admitted he had a point, but she still felt slighted. She whipped up her wand:
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
The iron rod rose and began repeatedly bashing the unconscious troll while she muttered furiously:
"That's for scaring me! That's for being filthy! That's for stinking me out!"
Just then, hurried footsteps approached. Professors burst in, Harry and Ron trailing them.
"Arthur! Hermione! You're safe?" Harry called.
"Oh, heavens! What happened here? Who's going to explain this to me?" Professor McGonagall's voice rang sharp, equal parts shocked and angry. A troll down cold on the floor, and two first-years in the middle of it—it was a sight.
"Well, actually, this was all because—" Hermione began.
"Ahem! Professor McGonagall!" Arthur cut her off smoothly. "Truth is, we'd never seen a troll before, so curiosity got the better of us. And, having studied magic for a while now, we figured we were old enough to test ourselves. When a troll caused trouble in Hogwarts, we seized the chance to put our learning into practice."
McGonagall stared, speechless.
Old enough to fight trolls? You're twelve!
Most first-years spent evenings playing chess in their common rooms. But these two—oh no, they were wandering the castle hunting trolls. Worse—they'd actually won.
Pride warred with exasperation in her chest. These were Gryffindors, after all. Their success brought honor to her house. Still… she had to stay stern. No smiling.
"Very well, Mr. and Miss Granger. For disobeying instructions and acting recklessly, Gryffindor loses five points. But for defeating a troll so impressively, Gryffindor gains twenty."
When the final ruling was made, she ordered, "Now, back to your common room."
Snape had hovered on the sidelines the entire time, lips twitching. He'd have loved to sneer at Potter—but with McGonagall present, the chance slipped. Harry, however, caught sight of Snape's bleeding, limping leg, and the air turned awkward. Luckily, nobody pressed further.
Snape quietly swore to himself: he'd test his new potion on that three-headed dog at the first chance he got.
Back in Gryffindor Tower, Ron all but exploded:
"That was bloody brilliant! You two beat a troll!"
Arthur sighed. Tomorrow, the whole school would know.
Hermione, meanwhile, was pouting.
"Shame I barely had any dinner before all this."
Arthur nearly choked.
Since when did the 'brightest witch of her age' come with a foodie trait? Is this my influence? No—impossible!
He coughed lightly. "Well, I packed up some food before leaving the hall. Is anyone hungry?"
"Me, me!" Hermione nodded eagerly.
Harry and Ron declined—they were still too hyped up, babbling about trolls.
As expected, by morning, word of their victory had spread through all four houses. Fortunately, with a Quidditch match scheduled today, everyone's attention soon shifted. Otherwise, Arthur would've been swarmed with questions.
"Oi, boss! Heard you trashed a troll yesterday—wicked cool! Teach us a move or two?" Fred and George cornered him, eyes gleaming.
Arthur sighed. "Honestly, trolls aren't that bright. Just Transfigure something heavy and knock them out."
The twins clearly weren't satisfied.
"C'mon, boss, just one real trick!"
"…Fine. Here, take this."
An idea struck as he spotted Snape limping toward Harry across the hall. With a sly grin, Arthur pulled out a parchment containing Levicorpus. The spell yanked people into the air by their ankles—a hex once used by Harry's father to humiliate Snape. Ironically, rumor claimed Snape had invented it himself.
Poor man. No wonder he had trauma. Picture it: Hogwarts robes were long, loose things. Whether a boy wore clothes underneath was… negotiable. If Snape had only his underpants, and the robes dropped under gravity while he dangled upside down… Well, social death. If there'd been silly patterns on those pants? Even worse.
Perhaps joining the Death Eaters had seemed the only escape—either erase the witnesses or abandon wizarding society altogether.
The twins gleefully pocketed the spell. Arthur prayed they wouldn't try it within Snape's line of sight, or their prank would end in tears.
"Good luck today, Harry," Snape drawled, finally reaching his student. "Since you've been allowed onto the team as a first-year, I assume Gryffindor will take the cup—even against Slytherin. Hmph."
He snorted and limped away.
Arthur smirked to himself. In anime terms, this was classic tsundere—Snape's way of warning Harry to be careful during the match.
Harry, of course, missed it entirely. His eyes were fixed on Snape's leg.
"No wonder he was bleeding," he muttered—not quietly enough. Arthur and Hermione both heard. Only Ron stayed oblivious, focused wholeheartedly on his breakfast.
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