HPS 120

Chapter 120: Moving Forward

Fourth-floor corridor.

A blurred figure was moving swiftly, almost imperceptible to the naked eye.

After hearing what Parvati Patil said, Sean roughly knew that the plot had not changed. As soon as he left the Great Hall, he heard the commotion and saw Professor Quirrell's figure. This assured him that at least it would be difficult for Tom to go on a killing spree, unless he wanted to be beaten by Dumbledore into Tom Junior. All he had to do next was ensure Hermione's safety, this shouldn't be too hard. Unless Tom's brain had somehow grown onto the Troll, even if he couldn't guarantee defeating it, Sean was capable enough to escape with Hermione, after all, there was no Potter locking the door this time.

But what Sean didn't expect was that more than one person had followed him.

Outside the fourth-floor bathroom.

A stench assaulted Sean's nostrils, it was a mixture of foul socks and a public toilet that had never been cleaned. Then he heard—a deep, low grumbling and the sound of enormous feet dragging across the floor. At the end of a corridor on the left, a massive creature was moving towards him.

Sean concealed himself, preparing at least to find Hermione first. Unexpectedly, just then, the gigantic monster slowly lumbered into a patch of moonlight.

The sight was terrifying. It was twelve feet tall, its dull, grey skin like granite, and its massive, clumsy body was like a huge pile of rubble, topped with a small, cocoa bean-like head. Its short legs were thick like tree stumps, beneath them were flat, thick, calloused feet. The stench emanating from its body was nauseating. It was gripping a thick wooden club, which dragged on the floor due to its long arms.

The Troll stopped by a door and peered inside. What was worse was that, at that very moment, the door began to rattle slightly, suggesting someone inside was about to open it. But the sound of the door opening quickly ceased, because the Troll, the foul-smelling Troll, lumbered into the room.

Sean moved almost synchronously with the Troll, and with the help of the Disillusionment Charm and a Muffling Charm, he effortlessly followed the Troll into the bathroom.

The bathroom interior was fully visible, and seemed to contain nothing. But inside a cubicle, Hermione was fiercely clamping her hand over her mouth.

'A Troll! It's a Troll! A monster with a danger rating of xxxx, a young wizard wouldn't even have a chance to fight back against it! They'd be too scared to utter a single spell!' This voice was raging through Hermione's mind, and what was worse, she had been crying here for too long and had no strength left. On top of that, she was so thoroughly terrified now that she probably couldn't even cast a simple Levitation Charm.

Hermione was huddled in the cubicle, looking like she might faint at any moment.

Outside the cubicle.

Sean heard faint, suppressed breathing. At the slightly ajar cubicle door, he saw Hermione's ashen face. Her eyes were dull, her lips trembling, and she couldn't find the strength to stand up. Sean's gaze flickered, he sighed, shedding all further concern. He simply stepped softly into the cubicle, the Disillusionment Charm receding from him like a tide. His placid expression wavered slightly, the Troll had appeared early, and waiting for Potter and the others to arrive was now pointless.

On the corridor.

To the many young wizards quickly fleeing towards their respective dormitories, Neville and Justin, running against the flow, appeared extremely strange.

'A Troll: twelve feet tall, weighing over a ton, thick-skinned, immune to most magical attacks...' These were the words Professor Quirrell had repeatedly emphasized in a stuttering voice during Defense Against the Dark Arts class. He had even called upon several young wizards to answer questions about them. The terror of the Troll in the minds of the young wizards was barely less than that of a Dragon.

Therefore, most of the young wizards heading to their dormitories were pale-faced, wishing they had extra legs to run faster.

"Do you think we'll die if the Troll finds us?" a young wizard asked his companion, trembling.

"Otherwise? Who do you think you are, Sean? Taking on a Troll single-handedly, defeating a Werewolf with bare hands, or even snatching a Dragon egg right in front of the Dragon..." That young wizard made a pale joke, but the atmosphere didn't lighten up at all.

Justin and Neville were already breathing heavily. Especially Justin, who, having just emerged from the warm kitchens, hadn't even had time to put on a robe, and was now trembling slightly.

"Actually... Sean, isn't really..." Neville wanted to say something, but what he said only made the atmosphere heavier. After realizing that Sean and Hermione would be totally unable to fight the Troll, they ran even faster.

A flash of lightning streaked across, followed by the roar of thunder.

The sound of the wind, the rain, and his pounding heart all transformed in Justin's mind into a gentle female voice:

"You are about to be assimilated into the violently striving world of adults, my child, you must become indestructible. I know that justice is a rocky path, and if you truly come to a moment where you must choose between lives, my child, Justin, remember that what you need is not a wand, but courage."

When is a person unstoppable? Justin thought, 'It's when he listens to the greatest voice of his life—his mother's call.'

In the Hope Cottage.

The yellowed envelope still lay in the expensive trunk, a box chosen by Madame Fenrielli, which had taken great effort to fill with her longing. At this moment, the yellowed envelope was still slightly fluttering in the wind, Madame Fenrielli's handwriting clearly visible:

[Dear Justin:

In the meaning of life, we are all miracles. Just as the future is not necessarily more important than the present, how can a broken future face a warrior's present? Yet I love you, my child, I love you, and that is all.

—Your mother who has never been disappointed in you: Lilliana]

The Great Hall.

Snape watched the noisy young wizards, his menacing gaze continuously sweeping around. 'Not there, not there, still not there...'

With everyone's attention distracted, Snape also easily noticed the vanished Quirrell. His gaze was darker than ever, even more so after locking eyes with the equally flustered Professor McGonagall.

'He's not here... he's gone...' Snape's mind was in a turmoil. Looking at Dumbledore, who was gazing in a certain direction, his anger flared up violently: "What are you waiting for, Albus! We have to find him! Damn it! Go find him!"

"Severus, are you talking about Harry? He just went out, oh, he'll be fine..." Dumbledore's words made Snape pause, then he gave Dumbledore a cold stare.

'Yes, in the eyes of the greatest white wizard of this century, who could compare to Harry Potter?' It was precisely because he knew this, knew that Harry was surely within Dumbledore's control, that he hadn't immediately noticed Harry leaving moments ago. 'Then what about the others? The other wizards?' 'Heh... they are all expendable... pawns?'

'What will be at the end of the castle staircase?' 'Quirrell, or the Dark Lord?'

'The Dark Lord returned once more, a plan to prove the potential of the Saviour, a piece walking in the shadows...' He had long had nothing to offer this filthy world, and was content to cocoon himself in the derelict Spider Alley. Yet there was always something far greater than everything else.

Snape, his face set cold, walked out of the Great Hall.