novelraw Chapter 11: The Frozen, Ugly Troll
Chapter 11: The Frozen, Ugly Troll
Chapter Eleven: The Frozen, Ugly Troll
As Draco Malfoy slowly descended the Astronomy Tower, he felt cold and hungry, and his legs felt like they were made of lead.
He'd spent too much time with the Bloody Baron and had paced excitedly in the tower for a long while, and now he was somewhat exhausted.
The body of an eleven-year-old was so distressing. You could never judge it by the standards of a seventeen-year-old, but you had to respect the fact that its physical strength was limited.
Draco sighed. He planned to hurry back to the Great Hall where the Halloween feast was being held and quietly join the Slytherin table laden with roast chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, steaks, roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, and toffee apples, so he could eat something to fill his stomach as soon as possible.
However, a sudden noise stopped him in his tracks. As he passed through an empty side corridor on the second floor, he vaguely heard someone crying. The sound was sobbing and mournful, as if it came from the girls' toilets.
Draco frowned. A mature Malfoy shouldn't meddle in other people's business—he preferred to mind his own. Besides, it was clearly the girls' toilets. He didn't think he had any right to go in and help anyone.
But his feet wouldn't budge. The crying sent a wave of panic through his stomach, making him shudder as if the cold, spectral body of the Bloody Baron had passed right through him.
A strange feeling suddenly washed over him—if he left now, he might regret it.
He couldn't understand his own behavior at that moment. Perhaps it was because he'd cried in the bathroom in his past life, and that feeling hadn't been pleasant. In addition, he felt that he'd forgotten something tonight.
Just as he stopped in the corridor, hesitating to move forward, a stench wafted from the left side of the corridor, followed by a low grumbling sound and the dull thud of huge feet dragging on the ground.
"Troll!" Draco's face turned pale, and he scratched his platinum-blond hair in annoyance.
Merlin's beard, how could he forget that? He must have been too engrossed in talking to the ghosts!
He suddenly remembered that the Halloween feast in his first year had ended hastily in his previous life—precisely because Quirrell had let the troll in the dungeons escape.
"Hurry up and get out of here before the troll turns around," Draco told himself. However, the crying from the bathroom hadn't stopped, and the mournful, anxious tone it carried grew increasingly unsettling.
Draco never called himself a "saint"—that was Potter's job. Looking back on his life, he still had no interest in "being a hero"—he didn't have that kind of awareness. He just wanted to survive.
But now, he could no longer sit idly by.
Judging from the tender, high-pitched tone of the cry, the owner of the sound was young, clearly an innocent child.
The approaching troll was too dangerous for a crying little girl.
In his previous life, Draco had witnessed too much suffering and death and was long tired of people getting hurt or even dying.
No one should encounter anything more desperate in the bathroom, amidst heartbreaking weeping—Moaning Myrtle alone was enough for Hogwarts to handle—and certainly shouldn't be injured or even killed because of something as ridiculous as a troll.
He made up his mind, abandoned his worries, and prepared himself to be regarded as a "shameless scoundrel" or a "frivolous playboy." He hurriedly pushed open the door and rushed into the girls' toilets.
A small, familiar figure was standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom.
Damn it! How could it be her? Draco's heart started pounding wildly.
Hermione's eyes were red and swollen, and she was about to turn on the tap to wash her face when she heard the sound and slowly turned around.
"How could you..." she said in surprise, her voice thick with congestion.
Without even considering why the little girl was crying, Draco, who was usually calm, lost his composure in front of others for the first time in his life. He rushed forward, no longer caring about anything else.
He grabbed Hermione's hand—who was utterly astonished—and ran outside.
"There's no time to explain. Come with me now." He said hurriedly, grabbing her as she stumbled along, and rushed out of the girls' toilets.
"Wait—" Hermione exclaimed in surprise as he suddenly pulled her out the door.
The boy who'd barged into the girls' toilets was inexplicably grabbing her hand and running. His hand was icy cold, but surprisingly strong, revealing an impulsiveness and dominance unlike anything he'd ever shown before.
What was he trying to do? She wondered, confused.
The situation was becoming increasingly critical. In the reflection of the candlelight in the alcove, Draco spotted the troll's figure swaying back and forth in the corner.
Before it could turn around, he hurriedly grabbed the bewildered girl and rushed toward the corridor around the other corner.
"Stop!" Not long after turning the corner, Hermione shook off his hand, flustered and confused by his untimely intrusion and rough tug.
She choked back tears and said angrily, "What... what are you doing? Why did you pull me out? And how could you trespass into the girls' toilets?"
Hermione was more than a little annoyed.
She couldn't believe that Draco, a boy, would just go into the girls' toilets so casually—it was incredibly rude! And he hadn't even asked her opinion before dragging her off like that. It was utterly disrespectful!
She was still angry about his repeated rule-breaking!
She was still furious that he'd bothered her feather with his feather while she was practicing the Levitation Charm today!
What kind of trick was he playing now?
This level of rule-breaking was absolutely unforgivable!
The boys all seemed to be the same, never showing any respect, Hermione thought wearily. She turned and walked away, deciding never to deal with these annoying boys again.
"Keep your voice down!" Draco quickly stopped Hermione, who was trying to turn back to the girls' toilets, and covered her mouth with his hand. He said, "Look back for yourself!"
Hermione was already furious when he suddenly covered her mouth without warning!
Moreover, he'd grabbed her shoulders from behind, which was extremely rude, presumptuous, and even improper!
But when she came to her senses, she turned her head and found him with a solemn expression. His light gray eyes were clear and deep, and he didn't seem to have any malicious intentions or be joking with her.
So she assessed the situation, widened her eyes, and nodded slightly to him, indicating that she wouldn't make a sound. Draco then released her and gestured for her to join him as they slowly peeked out from behind the wall, peering toward the doorway of the girls' toilets.
Under the moonlight, the twelve-foot-tall monster stretched out its foolish head and peered into the girls' toilets.
Everything about it perfectly illustrated what "disgusting" meant: its skin was dull gray like granite, its body huge and clumsy, with a bald, coconut-like head, short legs thick as tree trunks, and flat, horny feet the size of boulders.
What couldn't be ignored was that it was also holding a heavy, thick wooden club, which it dragged along the ground, making the scene particularly terrifying.
Hermione involuntarily grabbed Draco's hand and began to tremble.
Draco glanced back at her and noticed that her face was pale and her eyes were red, which made him feel uneasy.
Hermione Granger, that capricious and willful girl, looked better when she was proud and smug. He gently squeezed her hand back, feeling the coldness of her small hand.
The troll finally made its decision—with its pea-sized brain—it wiggled its long ears, grinned maliciously, and slowly lumbered into the girls' toilets.
Hermione's breathing stopped. She trembled uncontrollably in the cold wind, like a dying candle burning in a niche.
"Oh my God..." she whispered.
She realized she'd completely wronged the boy beside her. If he hadn't pulled her out of the girls' toilets beforehand, the consequences would have been unimaginable.
Imagine—she, completely defenseless and without even a wand, facing this incredibly dangerous and disgusting thing.
"Oh my God, Draco..." Hermione's face turned as pale as a Hogwarts ghost. "Thank you."
"Not angry anymore?" Draco pulled a face at her. Hermione was extremely embarrassed and gave him an awkward smile.
Then, to her surprise, she realized she could smile again. Just half an hour earlier, she'd thought she would never smile again at Hogwarts.
But now, strangely enough, the sadness and gloom in her heart were dispelled by the troll's fright and Draco's meddling.
A sense of relief, mixed with deep lingering fear, and a faint feeling of goodwill and joy, quietly spread through the dark corner of the corridor.
Draco noticed something else as well. Hermione's hands were colder than his own, even though he'd spent the entire night wandering the Astronomy Tower.
And she was still trembling.
Like a rabbit trapped in the snow and ice, unable to find its burrow, her eyes were red, and the moonlight made her small face appear deathly pale.
Merlin, that smile was more like a grimace. It brought her little joy, nor did it satisfy Draco's twisted sense of humor. Instead, it stirred the last vestiges of pity in his heart.
A self-proclaimed upright Gryffindor? A brave and fearless Hermione Granger? No, she was just a careless little scatterbrain!
She'd either get swallowed up by the vanishing steps, freeze herself into an icicle, or be ambitious enough to become the troll's meal!
Wasn't she supposed to be the smartest? Why could she always find dangers that were beyond the reach of ordinary people?
She was always alone, looking isolated and helpless. Who could ignore her? He was secretly annoyed, feeling as if some invisible chain was tightening around his heart.
However, she looked at him timidly, holding his hand tightly as if afraid he would run away. It seemed he wasn't the ruthless Slytherin she despised, but someone she could trust. Her trusting gaze made his chest ache.
Draco had absolutely no idea what to do with her.
This little ice cube that often made him furious but looked so pitiful right now! He thought angrily, but didn't let go of her hand.
They stood there holding hands, their hands icy cold, staring blankly at the girls' toilets for a few seconds, until he had to ask himself: how long could two people with such cold hands hold hands without warming up?
He sighed and released her. With a puzzled look in her eyes, he took an empty jam jar from his robes and handed it to her, conjuring a bright blue flame with his wand and placing it inside. "Take this."
She seemed to quite like keeping warm like this, Draco thought silently, drawing on his memories from his past life.
Hermione then realized that she'd been holding onto his hand the whole time. A little embarrassed, she cupped her hands around the warm jar, looked down at the strange blue flame, and whispered "thank you" again.
"My pleasure," he said, his expression finally relaxing a bit.
Draco glanced toward the bathroom again. He wanted to get Hermione away from this dangerous place as soon as possible—a place where trolls roamed wasn't one of the top ten tourist destinations in the wizarding world.
Just then, he noticed two small figures sidling toward the open bathroom door. One of them jumped up, pulled the key out of the lock, and slammed the door shut, locking it securely.
If his eyesight wasn't deceiving him, these must be Potter and Weasley, right? These two unremarkable little geniuses of the wizarding world had locked in the troll.
Bravo! If he weren't afraid of being discovered, he would have applauded them right now.
Hermione, who was cradling the jar, also saw this scene. She nestled close to him, her tousled hair peeking out from beside him, and whispered, "Why are they here too?"
However, before she could get an answer, Draco was stunned to find that Potter and Weasley, who'd already run away, had run back down the corridor in a panic and reopened the door to the girls' toilets.
Merlin, was tonight Halloween, or Gryffindor's Night of Spectacular Idiocy?
Were all the reckless fools in Gryffindor lining up to die?
Draco's face turned pale.
Immediately afterward, the two reckless idiots rushed into the girls' toilets, shouting, "Hermione! Are you in there?"
"Merlin's beard!" Hermione exclaimed in shock. She turned to look at him, her cheeks, which had regained some color, turning deathly pale again, and her eyes filled with fear once more. "Draco, I think they've come for me! I have to save them!"
She was trembling and tried to rush toward the girls' toilets, but he grabbed her wrist.
"How do you save them? Did you bring your wand? How do you plan to defeat the troll?" Draco frowned and asked her three questions in a row.
For an unarmed first-year to confront a mountain troll was utterly reckless, irrational, and extremely dangerous.
There was no safer way to die—she was doomed.
"I didn't bring my wand, and I don't know how to defeat the troll, but I can't just leave them there. They came back for me!" The little fool turned around and yelled at him desperately, tears welling up in her eyes.
"Let me go! I want to go find them!" Her eyes started to redden again, like a cornered rabbit ready to bite, her expression extremely stubborn.
Merlin! Was there anyone more ungrateful than her? Draco felt a surge of anger rising within him.
However, her tears... he couldn't bear to see Miss Know-It-All's tears.
They were so ugly, not pretty at all.
"Fine, I'll go with you." Draco rolled his eyes, and before he'd even finished speaking, he wanted to slap himself.
"Idiot! What are you doing? How did you end up joining the army of reckless fools?" Draco cursed himself inwardly, but his feet wouldn't obey him as he followed the impulsive crybaby—Hermione Granger—toward the girls' toilets.
"Run, Ron, run!" As they approached the door, they could already hear Potter shouting from inside the bathroom.
When they entered, the unexpected and thrilling scene terrified Draco, making him feel as if he'd been stung by a Billywig, sending his soul flying:
Weasley's small frame clung tightly to the wall, wand in hand, trembling as if he were petrified. Potter, on the other hand, rode bravely and foolishly on the troll, clinging tightly to its ugly neck.
Potter's wand appeared in the most unexpected place—it looked like a sticky twig, abruptly stuck up the troll's nostril.
A wizard would abandon his wand and choose hand-to-hand combat? Draco was stunned.
What made Potter think he could fight a monster in close quarters?
Draco had lived two lives and had never seen such mindless behavior!
Was this the intelligence of the wizard who could defeat the Dark Lord?! Merlin must be blind. Draco's pupils dilated in shock, and he inwardly groaned.
At this moment, the troll roared in pain, waving the club in its hand and twisting its body wildly. It seemed that it could shake off the tiny ant trying to topple a tree at any moment and give it a fatal blow, or first hit Ron, who wasn't far away, with the club.
"Please save them, Draco, please," Hermione pleaded, tugging at his sleeve anxiously.
She hated herself for not carrying her wand with her. It was her biggest mistake of the day. She could only plead with him. For some reason, she felt Draco would have a way.
In fact, even with seven extra years of study, Draco had no confidence in "facing a mountain troll head-on."
But the situation was already critical. The troll heard the noise at the door and turned around in confusion. Danger was about to affect him and the little girl beside him.
"Immobulus!" In a flash, Draco used the first spell that came to mind.
That was the Freezing Charm Hermione had used to deal with the Cornish Pixies in Defense Against the Dark Arts class in his previous life.
Fortunately, it worked, and the astonished troll was frozen in place for a moment.
"Brilliant!" Weasley's exclamation came from the other side of the wall.
"Get out of here!" Draco's eyes were serious, showing no sign of relief, and he shouted at them sharply. He continued to point his wand at the troll, just in case the creature suddenly regained its senses and attacked them unexpectedly.
It was only by chance that he'd managed to freeze it! Mountain trolls were thick-skinned and highly resistant to magic, and wizards had always been wary of them. He didn't know how long his Freezing Charm would last.
Upon hearing this, Potter quickly pulled the disgusting wand from the troll's nostril, rubbed the sticky substance off on his robes, and scrambled down. Weasley and Hermione, who'd come to their senses, hurriedly helped him to prevent him from slipping and falling.
The troll twitched its eyelids, seemingly about to wake. Faint voices could be heard coming from the other end of the corridor. Perhaps the professors had found their way here.
This wasn't a good thing.
If professors discovered that several arrogant first-years were facing trolls instead of obediently returning to their dormitories, lost House points and detention were a foregone conclusion.
Draco didn't want to tarnish his House's reputation by losing any unnecessary points.
"Quick! Hide! Don't let anyone find us!" Draco hurriedly called to them, and they hid in a nearby classroom.
They hadn't been inside long when they heard loud footsteps and Professor McGonagall's exclamation. "Oh, Severus, it's here!" The troll seemed to have fully awakened and began to roar again.
Meanwhile, four first-years hid behind the classroom door. They pressed their ears against the door, trying to catch any sounds coming from outside, while barely daring to breathe, afraid of being discovered by the professors.
Judging from the sound, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape seemed to have cast several spells together. Then the troll crashed to the ground with a dull thud.
After a while, Professor Quirrell's voice came through. He stammered that he could take charge from now on.
Time passed slowly, and only when the first-years were sitting on the ground behind the door, yawning incessantly, did silence return outside.
Hermione was still holding the jar.
She was leaning wearily against the door, dozing off slightly. Gradually, her head slid down the door, and Draco caught her with lightning speed and placed her on his shoulder.
She was completely unaware of it. The blue flame saw all of this, and it danced gently in the jar in her hand, tirelessly.
Potter and Weasley, on the other end, were expressionless, completely unresponsive to the scene. They leaned against the wall together, breathing heavily, still immersed in the terrifying moment of facing the troll.
After a while, they came to their senses, exchanged glances, whispered a few words, and finally tentatively spoke. They said softly, "Thank you."
Draco, still listening intently to the sounds outside, whispered to them, "Never be so reckless again. Not every time will someone come to your rescue."
These two idiots, trying to stop a runaway Erumpent with their bare hands, were incredibly lucky not to be torn to pieces or crushed into pulp by the troll.
"Also, a wand is a wizard's life, so you must cherish it," Draco said seriously, noticing Potter and Weasley nodding quietly.
Just then, his shoulder felt lighter—Hermione had suddenly woken. She looked up, rubbing her eyes sleepily with the back of her hand. Her eyes were still a little swollen.
He turned his head and unconsciously smiled at her—she smiled back at him with hazy eyes—then he looked at Potter again, his face regaining its solemnity. "You must carry your wand with you at all times. It's for casting spells, not for hand-to-hand combat. If it breaks, it can never be properly repaired."
Potter looked a little embarrassed, as if he'd just remembered that "wands can be broken."
Draco couldn't help but worry. Potter's attitude toward wands was too cavalier. He seemed to have no idea what a matched wand meant to a wizard.
That was a unique existence in the world.
However, Draco could only touch upon the subject briefly. He couldn't lecture Potter and the others too much. After all, they were just eleven-year-old children—what profound principles could you expect them to understand?
Look, what went around came around! Now it wasn't him who was being irresponsible—it was Potter and the others. Draco sighed, feeling he'd been too concerned about them, when he himself was already embroiled in a mountain of trouble and barely able to take care of himself.
He straightened his face and instructed them, "By the way, I hope you can keep this a secret. Don't tell anyone that I saved you, or that I was ever here. That would be the greatest thanks you can give me."
He didn't want anyone to notice his wanderings. As for the secret investigation into the Dark Lord, surfacing prematurely without understanding the situation would only bring disaster. Remaining underwater would be safer.
The Potters and Weasley exchanged puzzled glances, unsure of his intentions. But ultimately, filled with gratitude for their savior, they nodded in agreement.
After this incident, Harry, Ron, and Hermione became true friends.
Brave and loyal Gryffindors, willing to face terrifying beings for each other, even at the cost of their lives—how could you say there was no friendship between them?
They also gained a new understanding of Draco. Although Draco was a Slytherin, it was impossible not to develop feelings for someone when they'd been through something with you and even saved your life.
This was what it meant to face a twelve-foot-tall mountain troll together.