Chapter 11: Troll Incident Twist
The Great Hall glowed with the warmth of a thousand floating jack-o'-lanterns, their carved faces flickering with enchanted flames that cast dancing shadows across the stone walls. The air was thick with the rich, comforting scents of roasted turkey, warm pumpkin juice, and the sticky-sweet tang of treacle tart. Laughter and chatter filled the space, a vibrant hum punctuated by the clink of silverware and Hagrid's booming guffaws from the staff table. Alex Sterling sat at the Slytherin table, his fork poised over a glistening pork chop, its savory aroma briefly distracting him from Draco Malfoy's droning boasts about his father's latest Ministry connections. Alex's Slytherin robes felt heavy, the emerald fabric a constant reminder of his precarious place among his housemates. "Keep your head down, blend in. One wrong move, and Draco's onto me."
He took a bite, the meat's salty warmth grounding him, when a cold jolt hit his core, like ice water doused over his spine. The system flared, its holographic interface blazing in his mind.
[ALERT: Powerful Summon Detected! Signature: Dark Magic. Location: Upper Floors]
The pork chop turned to ash in his mouth. "A troll. Halloween. Quirrell's diversion." His meta-knowledge snapped into focus, the movie's timeline aligning with the sigil's warning. The festive chaos—students laughing, plates clattering, the scent of spiced cider—felt like a fragile veneer over a brewing storm. Alex's fingers brushed the polished mahogany table, a nervous tic, as he scanned the hall. Quirrell sat at the staff table, his purple turban absurdly bright, his hands fidgeting with a goblet. His eyes darted, too alert for his usual nervous act.
Alex leaned toward Harry, who was demolishing a slice of pumpkin pie, his glasses glinting in the candlelight. "Harry, something's wrong. I feel it—dark magic, big spell, just now." His voice was low, urgent, cloaking the system's alert in vague intuition.
Harry paused, pie halfway to his mouth, his green eyes narrowing. "What kind? Like… a hex?" His voice was hesitant, but trust flickered behind his curiosity.
Ron, munching a chicken leg, leaned in, gravy smearing his chin. "What, like someone spiked the pumpkin juice? Relax, Alex, it's Halloween!" His laugh was forced, his eyes flicking to the staff table.
Before Alex could respond, the Great Hall's double doors slammed open with a thunderous crack. Quirrell stumbled in, his face pale, his turban askew. The hall fell silent, the festive warmth snuffed out like a candle. "T-T-Troll! In the d-dungeons! Thought you ought to know!" His voice was a high, panicked squeak, and he collapsed in a heap, his robes pooling like spilled ink.
Screams erupted, chairs scraping as students surged toward the exits. Dumbledore rose, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "Prefects, lead your houses to the common rooms! Teachers, with me!" His calm was a lighthouse in the storm, but Alex's mind was elsewhere. "The dungeons are a lie. The troll's a diversion—Quirrell's after the Stone."
He scanned the Gryffindor table, his heart lurching. "Where's Hermione?" he asked, his voice sharp enough to cut through Ron's panicked muttering.
Ron's face paled, his freckles stark against his skin. "She… she was crying in the girls' bathroom. After I said her spellwork was show-offy. Haven't seen her since lunch." Guilt twisted his features, his hands clenching his robes.
Alex's blood ran cold. "She's in the path of a twelve-foot killing machine." The sigil's hum intensified, pinpointing the troll's location—third floor, not dungeons. "The troll's not in the dungeons. It's a trick. Hermione's in danger." His voice was steel, his meta-knowledge a guiding star. He grabbed Harry's arm, pulling him against the tide of students. "We're finding her. Now."
Ron hesitated, then followed, his wand clutched like a lifeline. "You're mental, Alex, but I'm in." His voice shook, but his steps were firm, loyalty overriding fear.
The castle's corridors were a maze of echoes, their footsteps pounding against cold stone. The air grew sharp with the musty scent of old tapestries and the faint tang of fear. Alex's boots skidded as they rounded a corner, his heart hammering as a deafening crash shook the walls, followed by a high, terrified scream—Hermione's. "We're not too late. We can't be."
They burst into the third-floor hallway, the scene a nightmare of destruction. A Mountain Troll loomed, its grey-green skin glistening like wet stone, its club—a gnarled tree trunk—smashing through a row of marble sinks. The air reeked of troll sweat, a sickly-sweet rot that made Alex gag. Hermione cowered against the wall, her face streaked with tears, her robes damp from burst pipes. She looked small, her bushy hair plastered to her face, her eyes wide with terror.
The troll roared, a guttural bellow that rattled the stones, and raised its club. Alex's system kicked into overdrive, his vision overlaying with glowing text.
[Analysis: Mountain Troll (Class 4 Creature). AE Consumed: 5. AE: 40/50]
[Vulnerabilities: Nasal Cavity/Ears – Low Resistance to Concussive Force. Weapon Handling – Poor Grip on Impact]
"Ron, the club! Use Wingardium Leviosa! Lift it!" Alex shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. He shoved past Harry, who stood frozen, wand raised but useless. "No time for Stupefy. We work with what we've got."
Ron, pale and trembling, nodded, his wand shaking as he pointed at the club. "Wingardium Leviosa!" His voice cracked, but the spell was clean, the flick of his wrist precise from weeks of Hermione's nagging. The club wobbled, rising an inch, then froze mid-swing, inches from Hermione's head. The troll blinked, its tiny eyes squinting in confusion, its grip loosening.
"Harry, now! Hit its nose!" Alex yelled, pointing at the troll's bulbous snout. Harry snapped out of his daze, his wand slashing wildly. "S-Stop!" The spell was wrong, a panicked burst of magic, but it sparked a faint pulse that grazed the troll's face. The beast roared, clutching its nose, its club wobbling further.
Ron's focus slipped, the club dropping—but the moment was enough. The heavy wood glanced off the troll's skull, a sickening thud echoing as the beast staggered, disoriented. "Again, Ron! Drop it!" Alex's voice was raw, his hands clenched, willing the spell to hold.
Ron flicked his wand, no words this time, just pure desperation. The club fell, striking the troll's head with a bone-rattling crack. The beast swayed, its massive frame teetering, then collapsed, the floor shaking under its weight. Dust and the stench of troll filled the air, the silence deafening.
Hermione uncurled, her breaths ragged. Harry and Ron stood frozen, wands still raised, their faces slick with sweat and dust. Alex leaned against the doorframe, his legs trembling, the system chiming softly.
[EXP Gained: Combat Assist – Troll Defeat. EXP Toward LVL 2: 35%]
"We did it. She's safe." His chest heaved, the adrenaline fading to a shaky relief. Ron sank onto a pile of debris, his wand clattering to the floor. "Did we… kill it?" His voice was a hoarse whisper, his eyes wide.
"Just knocked out," Alex said, his voice steadier than he felt. He glanced at Hermione, who was wiping her face, her hands shaking. "She's alive because of us. Because of me."
Footsteps echoed, sharp and rapid. Professor Snape swept in, his black robes billowing, his eyes glinting with suspicion. Professor McGonagall followed, her tartan shawl askew, her face a mix of fury and relief. The air shifted, the troll's stench mingling with Snape's sharp cologne and McGonagall's faint scent of wool.
Snape's gaze raked over them, lingering on Alex. "What is this madness? A troll, defeated by first-years? Explain yourselves." His voice was a low hiss, his suspicion a blade.
McGonagall placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder, her voice softer but stern. "Miss Granger, are you hurt?"
"N-No, Professor," Hermione stammered, straightening her robes. "They… they saved me."
Alex avoided Snape's gaze, wiping troll grime from his crest with a deliberate swipe. "He's sniffing for secrets. Stay sharp." Hermione's brief account—omitting her tears and Ron's insult—earned a crisp scolding from McGonagall. "Foolish bravery, disregarding orders! But… exceptional circumstances." Her voice softened, her eyes betraying relief. "Twenty points to Gryffindor for Potter and Weasley's courage. And ten to Slytherin for Mr. Sterling's… quick thinking."
The points were a lifeline, cementing their bond. Ron grinned, his fear replaced by pride. Harry looked stunned, his glasses fogged. Alex felt the weight of Snape's stare, a silent promise of scrutiny.
Later, in the quiet corridor, Hermione caught up to Alex, her footsteps soft on the stone. The air smelled of old parchment, the faint burn of Ron's spell lingering. Her robes were still damp, her hair a wild halo. "Alex, thank you. You knew to hit the club—how? You saved me." Her voice was soft, her usual sharpness gone, replaced by a raw gratitude that hit Alex like a spell.
He shrugged, his grin lopsided, masking the warmth flooding his chest. "Just a lucky guess, Granger. You owe me a Potions essay, though." His teasing was light, a shield against the moment's weight.
Hermione's lips twitched, a rare smile breaking through. "Don't push it, Sterling. But… you're a friend. A real one." She hurried off, her steps brisk, leaving Alex alone in the corridor.
"A friend. I've changed the story—early." The system chimed, confirming the shift.
[Bond Strength Increased: Hermione Granger – Tier 1 Unlocked. EXP Gained: 5%]
The troll was Quirrell's diversion, a lethal play for the Stone. Alex's role as protector was clearer than ever, but so was the danger. "I need more runes, more plans. Quirrell's not stopping."
Mechanics Recap: AE at 40/50; CS at 43%; EXP Toward LVL 2.
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