Fourth-Floor Corridor
A blurry figure moved swiftly, almost undetectable to the naked eye.
After overhearing Parvati Patil's words, Sean was fairly certain the plot hadn't changed.
He'd just left the Great Hall, where the noise was deafening, and spotted Professor Quirrell's figure.
That confirmed it: Tom—Voldemort—was unlikely to go on a killing spree unless he wanted to be turned into Tom Version Two by Dumbledore.
Sean's next step was simple: ensure Hermione's safety.
It shouldn't be hard.
Unless Tom had somehow swapped brains with a troll, Sean was confident he could at least get Hermione out safely, even if he couldn't defeat the creature. After all, this time, there was no Harry Potter locking the door.
What Sean didn't expect was that more than one person was following him.
Fourth-Floor Bathroom
A foul stench hit Sean's nose—a mix of dirty socks and a neglected public toilet.
Then he heard it: a low, muttering growl and the heavy drag of massive feet on the floor.
At the end of a passage to his left, a hulking creature lumbered toward him.
Sean, cloaked by his Disillusionment Charm, prepared to find Hermione first.
But then, the massive creature stepped into a patch of moonlight.
It was terrifying. Twelve feet tall, its dull, granite-gray skin gleamed faintly. Its clumsy, enormous body was like a heap of boulders, topped with a tiny cocoa-bean-sized head.
Its stubby legs were like tree trunks, ending in flat, calloused feet. The stench it gave off was nauseating. In its hand, it dragged a huge wooden club, scraping the floor due to its long arms.
The troll paused at a door, peering inside.
Worse, the door started to creak open, as if someone inside was about to come out.
But the sound stopped. Because the troll—the reeking, monstrous troll—lumbered into the room.
Sean matched its pace effortlessly, his Disillusionment and Silencing Charms letting him slip into the bathroom undetected.
The bathroom looked empty at first glance.
But in one of the stalls, Hermione was covering her mouth, stifling her breath.
"Troll! A troll! A XXXXX-level creature! A young wizard wouldn't stand a chance—it'd scare them so badly they couldn't even cast a spell!"
The thought crashed through Hermione's mind. She'd been crying here too long, drained of energy.
Now, paralyzed with fear, she doubted she could manage even a simple Levitation Charm.
Huddled in the stall, Hermione seemed on the verge of fainting.
Outside the stall, Sean caught the faint, suppressed sound of breathing. Through the half-open door, he saw Hermione's pale face.
Her eyes were dull, her lips trembling, her body too weak to stand.
Sean's gaze wavered. He sighed, his hesitation gone. He stepped quietly into the stall, his Disillusionment Charm fading like receding tidewater.
His calm expression flickered with concern. The troll had appeared early, making it pointless to wait for Harry and the others.
---
Corridor
Among the young wizards fleeing to their dormitories, Neville and Justin stood out, pushing against the crowd.
Trolls: twelve feet tall, over a ton in weight, thick-skinned, immune to most magical attacks…
Professor Quirrell had stammered these facts repeatedly in Defense Against the Dark Arts, even quizzing a few students.
To young wizards, trolls were nearly as terrifying as dragons.
The fleeing students were pale, wishing they could sprout extra legs to run faster.
"If a troll spots us, are we dead?" one trembling wizard asked his friend.
"What do you think? You're not Sean, are you? Taking on trolls single-handedly, beating werewolves bare-handed, snatching dragon eggs right in front of a dragon…"
The friend's pale attempt at a joke didn't lighten the mood.
Justin and Neville were struggling to breathe.
Justin, especially, was shivering. He'd just come from the warm kitchens and hadn't even grabbed a robe.
"Actually… Sean isn't…" Neville started, but his words only made the air heavier.
Realizing neither Sean nor Hermione could take on a troll, they ran faster.
A flash of lightning lit the sky, followed by a roaring thunderclap.
The wind, the rain, the pounding of their hearts—Justin heard only a gentle voice in his mind:
"You're stepping into the harsh world of adult struggles, my child. You must become unbreakable. I know justice is a rocky path. If you ever face a moment where you must choose life or death, Justin, my child, remember: it's not a wand you need, but courage."
When does someone become unstoppable?
Justin knew: when they heed the greatest voice of their life—the call of their mother.
Shrieking Shack
A yellowed envelope sat on an expensive trunk, carefully chosen by Mrs. Finnigan to hold her longing.
The envelope swayed slightly in the breeze, Mrs. Finnigan's handwriting clear:
"Dear Justin,
In the meaning of life, we are all miracles. The future isn't always more important than the present, so how can a broken future face a hero's now? But I love you, my child. I love you—that's all.
—Forever proud of you, Liliana"
---
Great Hall
Snape scanned the noisy young wizards, his sharp gaze sweeping the room.
Nothing. Nothing. Still nothing…
With everyone distracted, Snape easily noticed Quirrell's absence.
His expression darkened further after locking eyes with an equally alarmed Professor McGonagall.
He's gone… He's not here…
Snape's mind was a mess. Seeing Dumbledore staring in a certain direction, his anger flared.
"What are you waiting for, Albus? We need to find him! Damn it, find him!"
"Severus, do you mean Harry? He just left. He'll be fine…" Dumbledore's calm reply stunned Snape.
Snape shot him a cold glare.
Of course. To the greatest white wizard of the century, who could matter more than Harry Potter?
Knowing Harry was under Dumbledore's watch, Snape hadn't immediately noticed the boy's absence.
But what about the others? The other wizards?
Hmph… All expendable pawns, are they?
What waited at the end of the castle's stairs?
Quirrell? Or the Dark Lord?
The returning Dark Lord, a plan to prove the Chosen One's worth, a chess piece moving in the shadows…
Snape had nothing left to offer this filthy world, content to cocoon himself in the tattered web of Spinner's End.
But something always rose above it all.
With a cold face, Snape stormed out of the Great Hall.