Professor McGonagall’s green robes snapped behind her as she swept down the stairs, radiating an authority that filled the whole corridor.
Snape followed close behind, black robes billowing like some ancient bat spreading its wings mid-descent, his expression carved from frost, his eyes fixed unmistakably on Harry the entire way down.
Professor Flitwick trailed right after, his short legs somehow outpacing Quirrell’s despite the height difference, wand already gripped tight in his fist, braced for a fight.
Quirrell, meanwhile, looked genuinely terrified, clutching his chest as though the sight of the fallen troll had knocked the wind straight out of him.
The other professors took in the scene at once: the troll’s tiny head crushed inward against its own chest, the corridor sealed under a thin, glittering sheet of ice.
Something lit up behind Flitwick’s eyes almost immediately.
With his own dueling background, the sequence of events was obvious at a glance.
His gaze flicked across the students’ wands and settled on Will’s, the only one still drawn.
An eyebrow rose.
A first-year, alone, had taken down a full-grown troll?
“Remarkable work, Will—”
He didn’t get far before McGonagall cut across him.
“Would someone care to explain what exactly happened here?” Her voice carried an icy edge, and her gaze swept the group with enough force that every student felt the weight of it settle on their shoulders.
“You’re fortunate to be standing here at all.
Why weren’t any of you in your common rooms?”
“We came to save…
to save…” Ron’s voice trailed off.
Hermione hadn’t even been in the bathroom when the troll appeared.
What exactly had he been rushing to save her from?
“Professor McGonagall, they thought I was still in the girls’ bathroom and came to warn me about the troll,” Hermione explained, ever the conscientious one even under pressure.
“I wanted to make sure you knew Will, Sylvia, and Neville only came down here looking out for me.”
McGonagall’s expression eased slightly at that.
“Trolls are exceptionally dangerous.
You’ve surely learned by now how many grown wizards have died to a single blow from one of their clubs.” She glanced briefly toward Quirrell, still pressing a hand to his chest, and adjusted her wording mid-sentence.
“Perhaps the specifics haven’t been covered yet, but you should still understand the danger involved.”
Her eyes stayed fixed pointedly on Will and Hermione as she said it.
“Well, the important thing is that none of the children were hurt.” Flitwick stepped in smoothly, defusing the tension.
“Could someone walk me through how you handled it?”
“Of course, Professor.” Sylvia’s eyes brightened at the invitation.
“When we got down here, Harry and Ron were running through the corridor and had already caught its attention.
Will froze its head solid with a spell, and then the poor thing ran headfirst into the wall and knocked itself out for good.”
“Extraordinary.
Truly extraordinary, Mr.
Behrens.
I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a first-year take down a troll single-handedly.” Flitwick clapped his hands together.
“An excellent combination of spells.
Twenty points to Slytherin, and five points each to the rest of you, for your courage.”
Smiles broke out around the group, though McGonagall wasted no time cooling the mood.
“Mr.
Potter, Mr.
Weasley, five points each, for the recklessness that got you both down here in the first place.” Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
Both boys’ faces fell instantly.
“It seems even our celebrated Mr.
Potter’s reputation couldn’t manage a troll on its own.” Snape’s tone stayed as sharp as ever.
Will, watching quietly, suspected Snape cared more about Harry’s safety than anyone in the corridor realized.
“Since the matter’s resolved, I won’t keep you further, though I will be informing the Headmaster of everything that happened here.
All of you, back to your common rooms.
The rest of the school is still enjoying dinner.” At McGonagall’s prompting, the group filed out of the dungeon corridor.
Behind them, Ron and Harry walked close together, still visibly shaken.
“Blimey, she’s terrifying when she’s properly angry…”
The group split up near the main staircase.
Hermione and Neville headed off toward Gryffindor Tower for the feast, while Will and Sylvia obviously had nowhere to go alongside them.
“Heading back to the Room of Requirement?” Sylvia already knew Will avoided the Slytherin common room whenever he could manage it, tired of the usual crowd there.
“Not tonight.
I’m planning on a proper meal instead.” Will had no intention of skipping dinner entirely.
Food mattered to him, which was exactly why he’d bothered learning half the spells tucked away in books like Conjure a Feast and The Enchanted Kitchen in the first place.
“This isn’t the way to the Great Hall.” Sylvia frowned, wondering if he meant to eat with another house entirely.
“Come with me.
I’ll show you somewhere.” Will kept the destination deliberately vague.
Ten minutes later, he stopped in front of a painting of a large fruit bowl and gently tickled one of the painted pears.
It giggled, then twisted into a green door handle right before Sylvia’s astonished eyes.
Will grasped the handle and turned it.
“Welcome to the Hogwarts kitchens.”
The door swung open, and the warm smell of roasted pumpkin rolled out to meet them.
Sylvia glanced around, clearly impressed.
The kitchen stretched out as large as the Great Hall itself, ceilings soaring overhead, gleaming copper pots and pans stacked along every stone wall, an enormous brick fireplace anchoring the far end.
Four long tables sat arranged exactly like the house tables above them, each magically linked to its counterpart in the Great Hall.
Anything placed on these tables could be sent directly up to the corresponding house table, entirely on command.
House-elves moved briskly throughout the space, carrying dish after dish up toward the ongoing Halloween feast.
One elf spotted Will immediately and hurried over.
“Honored young wizard, how may I be of service?”
Sylvia, for her part, was used to house-elves.
Her own family kept several.
“A bit of everything from tonight’s menu would be wonderful, thank you.”
“Doko is delighted to serve!”
They settled at one of the long tables, and Doko returned in moments, plates arriving in a steady stream.
Pumpkin soup, roasted pumpkin, smoked duck with pumpkin purée, beef Wellington, shepherd’s pie, roast lamb, veal, pumpkin pudding.
Within minutes the table groaned under the weight of it all.
Will, thoroughly starving by that point, washed his hands quickly and dug straight into the roast lamb.
“Here’s your pumpkin juice, young wizards.” Another elf appeared, setting down a tall glass of sweet, orange liquid.
“You’re the one who’s been bringing me food the last few times, aren’t you?” Will recognized her easily enough, no small feat given how similar most house-elves looked to one another. Read this novel at novelping(.)com for the best experience.
“Yes, yes!
The young wizard remembers Anko!
Anko is honored!” The little elf practically skipped over to serve them both pumpkin soup.
Will thanked her sincerely.
“Thanks, Anko.”
“The young wizard thanks Anko?
Oh, Anko is embarrassed.
It is only what Anko should do.” Rather than accepting the compliment gracefully, Anko fled the room entirely, face flushed with what looked distinctly like shame.
Will watched her go, privately thinking the whole reaction was a little unsettling, though he’d noticed the same pattern in every house-elf he’d met so far, so he let it go without dwelling on it.
He held none of Hermione’s strong feelings about elf liberation.
That kind of idealism struck him as naive, given how the elves themselves seemed to feel about it.
The whole Anko episode passed without much comment from Sylvia, who hadn’t said a word to any of the elves the entire time.
She couldn’t even name half the ones working in her own family’s household.
“When did you find this place, anyway?” Sylvia asked, cutting into a plate of pumpkin-stewed chicken while taking in the room.
“Late one night, wanted a snack, went looking, and stumbled onto this whole setup.
I’ve been coming back regularly ever since.” Will pulled the smoked chicken closer.
“We should make a habit of it.
These elves cook better than half the restaurants back home.”
Sylvia shook her head.
“I’ll pass on making it a habit, personally.”
Catching Will’s puzzled look, she explained.
“I’d rather not eat myself out of shape.
You might want to think about that too, honestly.
Remember Selwyn?
The boy looks like he swallowed a small pig.”
“Can we please not talk about him right now?
This is my first Halloween.” Will mimed gagging dramatically, earning an eye-roll from Sylvia in return.
Still, curiosity got the better of her.
“Wait, seriously?
Your actual first Halloween?”
“Why would I make that up?”
It genuinely was.
His mother had never bothered celebrating it, drowning in her own troubles long before her death, and afterward, there’d been no reason for Will to mark the occasion on his own either.
Something in his easy confidence made Sylvia smile.
She lifted her glass of pumpkin juice.
“Well then, let’s make a proper tradition out of it from here on.
Cheers, to every Halloween still to come.”
The soft clink of glasses closed out the evening perfectly.