"I remember someone was heading to the library to seek knowledge, wisdom, and power. What are you doing here now?" Pansy's voice dripped with sarcasm.
"Oh, I know—" Malfoy began, but Pansy cut him off with a mutter.
"When you told that story, didn't a supporting character say, 'Every woman is a book'?"
She glanced at him sharply. "Looks like you've read that Mud—Hermione all over, haven't you?"
She stopped herself before finishing the insult.
"Pansy!"
"Draco, you're disgusting." Pansy turned on her heel, ignoring him, though her trembling shoulders betrayed her emotions. Within moments, she vanished down the corridor.
"This time, it doesn't look like a joke," Malfoy muttered to himself. "I'll explain it after she calms down."
Still brooding, he made his way toward the Great Hall.
A few minutes later, the aroma of roasted pumpkin filled his nose as he stepped inside. A thousand bats fluttered along the walls and ceiling, another thousand swirling above the tables like dark, low clouds. Candle flames flickered inside carved pumpkins, casting eerie shadows. Delicious food appeared on the golden plates, just as it had during the opening feast.
"The decorations are pretty good," Malfoy remarked, scanning the hall.
No sign of Pansy—but he spotted Hermione, Harry, and Ron chatting cheerfully at the Gryffindor table. Ron and Harry looked particularly excited, clutching Honeydukes sweets.
"Hermione, you're amazing!" Ron said, grinning. "My brothers never take me anywhere—they always sneak off without me!"
Harry laughed, joining in. Hermione beamed, clearly enjoying the praise.
Noticing Malfoy's gaze, Hermione subtly flashed him an "okay" sign, indicating that everything was settled on her end. She gave him a small, smug smile.
"Your little friendship boat is sailing again," Malfoy thought bitterly. "Meanwhile, my ship is about to sink."
He glanced around again. "Where did she run off to? Pansy can't resist food—she must be somewhere nearby."
He picked up a slice of pumpkin pie, ready to eat, when the doors burst open. Professor Quirrell stumbled into the hall, his turban askew, his face pale with terror. Everyone turned to stare as he reached Dumbledore's chair, gasping for breath.
"Troll—in the dungeons—thought you ought to know," he wheezed, before collapsing in a heap.
"Damn it," Malfoy hissed, his stomach twisting. He suddenly realized what he'd overlooked. Without hesitation, he bolted from the Great Hall.
Chaos erupted behind him. Dumbledore restored order with several ear-splitting bangs from his wand.
"Prefects," he commanded, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"
Percy Weasley instantly took charge, his chest puffed out.
"Follow me! Stay together, first years! Nothing to fear if you listen to me! Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, prefect here!"
"How could a troll get in?" Harry asked as they climbed the stairs.
"No idea," said Ron. "They're supposed to be really stupid. Maybe Peeves let it in for fun."
Hermione frowned. "What's Malfoy doing?" She was the only one who noticed Draco's strange reaction before he ran off.
"Pansy! Where are you?" Draco's voice echoed down the empty corridor. His clenched fists betrayed his rising panic.
He thought he was a butterfly flapping its wings to change destiny, but perhaps he was just paint spilled into the river of time—diluted, powerless to alter its course.
"Pansy shouldn't be in the girls' bathroom right now," he reasoned aloud. "Hermione's in the Great Hall. The timeline's changed. Good."
He took a breath. "If I find the troll first and take care of it quickly, everything will be fine."
Following the foul stench—a revolting mix of rot, old socks, and an unclean toilet—Malfoy finally spotted a hulking figure at the end of the passage. The sound of dragging feet and low grunts filled the air.
"Found you," he murmured.
A pair of trembling legs sticking out from behind a nearby statue caught his eye. His heart lurched. Someone was hiding there.
"Lumos Maxima!" he shouted, his wand bursting with light.
The troll turned toward the glow, roaring in anger. It was twelve feet tall, with gray, stone-like skin and a massive, clumsy body topped by a tiny cocoa-colored head. Its tree-stump legs ended in flat, cracked feet. The stench made Malfoy gag. It dragged a huge wooden club along the floor, gouging deep grooves in the stone.
Malfoy steadied his breathing and raised his wand.
"Reducto!"
A deep red bolt shot forward. The troll reacted with shocking agility, swinging its club up just in time. The wood exploded into splinters.
"Lucky me," Malfoy muttered, rolling his eyes. He didn't waste a second.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
The spell struck true. The troll froze mid-step, only a faint snort escaping one massive nostril.
"That should hold until the professors arrive," he said, exhaling in relief.
He hurried behind the statue. "Pansy, are you alright?" No answer.
He stepped closer—and froze.
The girl wasn't Pansy. She looked a year or two older, with long black hair, soft black eyes, and delicate features. Her face was pale from fright, which made her look even more fragile.
"A fellow countrywoman from another world," he thought instantly, recognizing the subtle hint of familiarity in her features.
"It's alright now," Malfoy said gently. "The professors will be here soon."
Even if it wasn't Pansy, he couldn't just leave her there. It wouldn't be gentlemanly—and something about this girl tugged at his conscience.
"Thank you," she said softly. "My name is Emima. You're Draco, right? A first-year? I've heard a lot about you from our house. Seems the rumors are true—you defeated a troll easily."
Her cheeks flushed slightly, whether from embarrassment or admiration, Malfoy couldn't tell.
"A trivial skill," he said modestly—then added, without thinking,
Emima's eyes widened. "You speak Chinese?"
"Of course," Malfoy replied smoothly. "I've always admired Chinese culture."
A bright smile lit her face. Meeting someone who spoke her native language in a foreign land filled her with warmth. The tension between them melted.
They chatted quietly as they waited for the professors. Malfoy even slipped in a few jokes in Chinese, which made Emima giggle behind her hand.
"You're much funnier than people say," she teased. "And… more handsome too."
Malfoy smirked. "Heh."
He couldn't help remembering how Pansy always complained he was dull.
"Could you help me up?" Emima asked shyly.
"Of course." Malfoy bent down and offered his hand. Her fingers were small and soft. With a gentle pull, he helped her to her feet.
"Ah—" She wobbled, her legs weak after sitting too long, and instinctively leaned against his shoulder. Realizing how close they were, she gasped and blushed furiously.
Malfoy, ever the pureblood gentleman, stared straight ahead. "Reparo," he murmured, casting a spell to fix the tear in her robes and heal the scrape on her calf.
"How do you feel?"
"Much better." Emima smiled, still pink in the cheeks as she straightened up.
Then—footsteps echoed from down the hall. Voices followed.
"Professor, I saw him come this way!" a girl cried.
"He'll be alright, won't he?" another voice added—familiar, worried.
"Calm down, child. I'm sure he's fine," came Professor McGonagall's firm reassurance.
The group rounded the corner—McGonagall in front, Snape and Quirrell close behind, with two girls trailing them.
"Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said sharply, adjusting her glasses. "I believe you owe me an explanation."
Snape inspected the frozen troll, nodding in approval. "A flawless Petrificus Totalus. Remarkable work—worthy of my student."
Quirrell, however, took one look at the troll and shrieked, collapsing in fear, clutching his turbaned head.
Malfoy remained calm. "Professor, I encountered the troll here and subdued it. Is there more to explain?"
"That's not what Miss Granger told me," McGonagall said coldly. "She reported seeing you running from the Great Hall just moments ago."
Malfoy's composure wavered. This dismantling is way too fast. He noticed Pansy behind McGonagall, eyes red, staring at him with concern.
"I can already see where this is going," he thought bitterly. "Looks like I'm the one who needs rescuing now."
He sighed. "Alright, Professor. I was wrong." He lowered his head in apology.
"Slytherin loses ten points," McGonagall said crisply. Then her expression softened. "However, for breaking the rules in order to protect others—and for successfully subduing a dangerous creature—Slytherin gains twenty points. Do not repeat this, Mr. Malfoy."
She rested a hand gently on Pansy's shoulder. "You're lucky to have brave friends."
Malfoy exhaled in relief. For once, he found the strict professor… almost endearing.
"Return to the feast now," she instructed. "I'll inform Professor Dumbledore of the details."
She turned, leaving Snape to deal with the troll.
As soon as McGonagall left, Malfoy knew the real trouble was just beginning.
"And who," Pansy demanded, pointing at Emima, "is this girl?"
Her glare could have melted steel.
Malfoy rubbed his forehead. "This is going to be a headache," he muttered. He could already feel the interrogation coming.
The faint echo of laughter drifted from the Great Hall as the group made their way back. The chaos had settled, the feast had resumed, and the candles burned low inside their pumpkin shells.
Draco Malfoy trailed behind the others, lost in thought.
He had fought a troll, earned points for Slytherin, and met someone from a world that felt oddly familiar. Yet all he could think of was the sharp tone in Pansy's voice—and how much explaining he still had to do.
The night of the troll attack had ended, but for Malfoy, things were only getting more complicated.
End of Chapter 13 — Giant
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