Chapter 11: Trolls, the Lesser Giants...

Surprisingly strong, huh?

Gryffindor and Slytherin

With a deafening roar, the troll charged into the girls' bathroom with overwhelming force. Harry, ahead of Ron, rushed in and fired a spell at the troll's back as it lumbered toward a stall.

"Bombarda!" (Explode!)

"Petrificus Totalus!" (Turn to stone!)

The explosion shattered the bathroom fixtures, aiming to slow the troll with debris. Ron's petrification spell sought to stop it entirely. But the troll was unfazed, hurling broken fixtures back at them. Harry and Ron dove to the floor, narrowly escaping death.

(…!!)

Harry's heart pounded. This wasn't Dudley. The troll was a savage beast, far fiercer than any wild animal, intent on killing. For the first time, Harry felt true fear.

His small firework spell had hit the troll's back dead-on, yet it didn't flinch. No burns, no wounds. Harry was terrified.

Then, something floated forward—a ghostly schoolgirl. Ghosts, mere magical echoes of past lives, exist to protect Hogwarts students in emergencies. Her barrier bought them time.

The troll raised its club to smash through the ghost's defense. A clear opening. Harry aimed a cutting spell at its arm.

"It's… not working? Why?" Harry gasped.

"Trolls are tough! First-year spells won't cut it!" Hermione shouted from the stall.

Harry had practiced the cutting spell, longing to use it on Dudley, but never on a living creature. It faltered against the troll's magic resistance, his knowledge useless.

"Then… Aguamenti!" (Water!) Ron sprayed water over the troll—nicknamed Goyle—to draw its attention from Hermione to them. But the troll stayed fixated on her stall.

"No good! Trolls don't feel pain!" Hermione yelled.

"Thanks for the tip! Unlike the real Goyle!" Ron shot back.

Harry shouted over Hermione's warnings, scrambling for a plan. If this continued, the troll would reach and kill her.

(There's got to be something to stop it…)

Time seemed to slow as the troll raised its club. Harry had felt this before, dodging Dudley's punches. Desperately, he leapt onto the troll's arm.

The troll, dull to pain and slow to react, didn't shake him off. Instead, it swung its club downward, still clutching Harry.

"Bombarda!" Harry, upside-down, aimed at the troll's murky eyes. Thanks to Quidditch practice, he could aim accurately even in midair.

Magical creatures, despite their resistance, have a weakness: their eyes. Though as hard as gems, they lack the body's magical defenses. This holds for trolls and even dragons. The troll flinched, its grip loosening for a moment.

"Harry, get off!" Ron yelled.

"Ron!"

Harry fired another Bombarda at the arm, breaking free.

"Ron! Swoosh, dodge!" Harry shouted.

The troll, blind but undeterred, swung its club down.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" (Levitate!)

The club slipped from the troll's grasp, spinning upward…

A sickening crack echoed.

Ron's Leviosa had lifted the club, striking the troll's head with devastating force. It was the perfect spell, fueled by Ron's courage to save his friend.

Harry felt utterly outclassed. Leviosa, a basic spell, had felled the troll in Ron's hands, while Harry's arsenal failed. Ron was the better wizard.

"Amazing, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Uh, Hermione… I'm sorry," Ron said, teary-eyed. "I was a jerk, but I realized you were right. So I practiced Leviosa…"

Hermione accepted his apology. Harry, feeling out of place, decided to collect the troll's whiskers for potion ingredients. Staring at Ron, he couldn't believe he'd mastered a spell he'd failed in class.

(Are all Gryffindors like this?)

If so, Slytherins had every reason to go all-out against them. Gryffindors were unpredictable, like the student who botched potions. Harry didn't know Ron's standing among Gryffindors, but he was clearly superior. With Hermione's brilliance, it was overwhelming. Harry longed for something he could excel at.

"Thanks, Harry," Hermione said.

"No big deal. Think of me as a wall stain," Harry replied.

"What? Without you, we'd be wall stains!" Ron laughed.

As they bickered, Professors Quirrell and McGonagall appeared, stunned.

"T-The troll…" Quirrell stammered, trembling, haunted by memories of Albanian monsters.

"What is this!?" McGonagall demanded. "You were told to stay put!"

Harry realized a Slytherin-like excuse wouldn't cover saving Hermione.

(Whatever…)

No need for Slytherin pride before Gryffindor's head. Hermione spoke first.

"I thought I could take the troll with my spells," she lied.

Ron gaped. Harry bit back laughter, seeing McGonagall play along for her students.

"Disappointing, Granger. Five points from Gryffindor. Avoid reckless actions," McGonagall said.

"Yes, Professor," Hermione replied.

"Wait, McGonagall," a silky voice interrupted—Snape.

Harry stiffened but faced him.

"Our Slytherin hero seems fond of ignoring rules and teachers, heedless of injury or house shame. Such arrogance!" Snape sneered.

"Snape, Potter saved a Gryffindor," McGonagall countered.

"It's about rules and safety. Our efforts are wasted if students defy them," Snape retorted, furious. He docked Slytherin ten points and left, his steps oddly slow.

"Snape's harsh, but not wrong. Follow rules and stay safe," McGonagall said.

"Yes…" the trio mumbled.

McGonagall winked mischievously. "Now, we must reward merit. Granger says Weasley felled the troll with Leviosa?"

"Yes, Ron did," Harry confirmed.

"Just luck… not sure I could do it again," Ron mumbled.

"Using basic magic effectively is hard, even for adults. For your courage, Gryffindor earns fifteen points," McGonagall said, then continued. "Magical creatures resist powerful spells, but their eyes are weak. For targeting the troll's weakness, Slytherin also earns fifteen points."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said, bowing, relieved Snape's deduction was offset.

"You three have faced trials since the Sorting and likely will again," McGonagall said, her experience hinting at foresight. "Face challenges with pride. When you're in the right, don't shrink back. You're the bravest in your year."

Her Gryffindor spirit shone. Harry's heart warmed, though he doubted Snape would ever call him a true Slytherin.

Alone in the bathroom, Harry, the smallest, spoke. "Ron, I'm glad you two made up."

They high-fived, but Hermione looked envious.

"Thanks, Harry!" she said. "I owe you."

"No need. But… can Ron and I talk alone for a bit?"

"Sure, I'll wait outside," Hermione agreed, curious but restrained.

Moaning Myrtle's voice whispered to Hermione, offering to relay their talk via a Sonorus variant. Though tempted, Hermione resisted, but the words reached her.

"What's up, Harry?" Ron asked.

"It's… not a big deal. Or maybe it is. I've wanted to apologize about the rat," Harry said.

"Bit late!" Ron replied.

"I'm sorry. I don't expect forgiveness, but I didn't mean to hurt you."

Since Harry exposed the rat at the Sorting, Ron had endured pain and scorn. Harry had watched, helpless.

"I get it," Ron said, smiling wryly. "You panicked at the Sorting with Peter. I wouldn't have believed my pet was human either."

Hermione recalled her own struggles. Maybe she and Ron could be friends.

"Thanks, Ron," Harry said, shaking hands.

"Hey, Harry… if it's tough, join Gryffindor. You don't fit Slytherin, especially after this," Ron said. "Password's 'Golden Lion.'"

(What!? He's jinxed!) Hermione thought, stunned. Ron, offering friendship to a Slytherin? And what did he mean about her?

"I'm glad you think of me as a friend. I feel the same. But I'm Slytherin through and through. I love my house and want to be its proudest member," Harry said.

Ron sighed, worried. "Fine."