The six barrels spun at high speed, letting out a metallic screech as they tore through the air!
Evelyn slammed down the trigger.
The roar exploded between the tiled walls as a dense stream of bright orange tracer rounds poured forth.
The bullets slammed into the troll’s chest, bursting into showers of fluorescent sparks.
The ammo belt whipped through rapidly, and spent casings clattered loudly against the floor tiles, rolling everywhere.
Instinctively, the troll raised its wooden club to shield itself.
The fluorescent barrage clattered against the surface of the club, blasting the rough bark into a shimmering layer of bright pink specks.
Stench, gunsmoke, and the sickly-sweet metallic odor of cheap glow-powder mingled together, choking Hermione into a couple of sharp coughs.
“Evelyn!
What is that thing shooting?”
“Fluorescent tracer rounds!
Pure noise deterrence!
It won’t kill anything!”
Hermione: (ꐦ°Д°;)
“If it can’t kill it, why did you bring it out?!”
“To deafen it!”
The troll had its entire face plastered with glow-powder after three continuous seconds of barrage.
Its rust-colored eyeballs blinked twice, and a puff of hot air shot from its nostrils.
It didn’t retreat.
The wooden club swept in from the side, shattering two water pipes.
Jets of water burst toward the ceiling and cascaded down in torrential sheets.
Evelyn’s hair was instantly drenched, plastered flat against her face.
Water splashed onto the Gatling gun’s barrels, causing their rotation speed to plunge precipitously, its screech weakening to a sputter.
Evelyn flipped back her wet bangs.
A red warning flashed across her system panel!
[Item “Gatling Gun Model Mark-I” water-damaged.
Performance degraded by 80%.
Remaining Ammunition: 0.]
[Recommendation: Switch combat tactic.]
“Junk gun!”
Evelyn hurled the Gatling gun to the floor.
The sound of metal hitting tile was muffled by the splashing water.
The troll poked its head out from the mist of fluorescent powder.
Covered in pink glitter over its grayish-green, scabby skin, it looked like a moldy strawberry cake.
It sniffed, its mouth stretching into a wide grin that revealed yellow-brown teeth.
Saliva dripped onto the floor tiles, sizzling as it corroded a small crater into the stone.
Hermione tugged hard at Evelyn’s sleeve.
“Run!”
“Run where?
It’s blocking the doorway!”
Evelyn backed up two steps, landing in a puddle.
Her boots slipped, and her back bumped against the edge of the sink counter.
She glanced down at the system store’s temporary shelf and tapped an item icon on the fourth page.
[Item Confirmation: Interspecies Aesthetic Reformer!]
[Function: Forcibly converts the target organism into its “most aesthetically valuable” form.]
[Cost: Mischief Points × 400.
Current Points: 1800.
Confirm exchange?]
Evelyn: (≖ω≖)
“Four hundred points for cosmetic surgery?
Totally worth it!”
She clicked confirm.
A palm-sized silver disc materialized in her palm, its surface etched with a spinning butterfly.
The troll’s club had reached the apex of its swing.
Hermione shrieked, “Hurry!”
Evelyn grabbed the disc and slammed it straight onto the troll’s face!
The disc stuck to that rotten, grayish-green face and vibrated with a deep hum.
White light spilled out from the edges of the disc, surging across the troll’s skin like liquid milk poured over it, completely covering its entire body within three seconds.
The troll’s club froze in midair, unable to swing down.
A cocoon of light encased its whole body.
The three-meter-tall behemoth shrank rapidly within the radiance.
Two meters.
One meter.
Half a meter.
The light cocoon shattered, and glowing shards drifted through the air like cascading snowflakes.
The spray bursting from the water pipes poured over the fragments, refracting rainbows across the walls.
When the fragments dispersed, a pig stood in the middle of the bathroom.
It was pink, round as a ball, and barely reached Evelyn’s knees.
It wore a pink ballet tutu, its sheer tulle skirt encrusted with sparkling sequins.
On its four hooves were mini ballet slippers, tied with pink ribbons wrapped all the way up its lower legs.
It even had a silk flower pinned atop its head.
Hermione’s wand slipped from her fingers, landing with a splash in the water.
Hermione: (⊙△⊙;)
The pig tilted its head and let out a soft snort.
It raised its front right hoof, rising onto tiptoe.
Its rear left hoof lifted off the ground, and its body began to spin.
It was dancing *Swan Lake*!
The pink tulle skirt fluttered as it twirled, the sequins reflecting brilliant, diamond-like glints through the mist.
Its hooves tapped against the wet floor tiles, making sharp, crisp click-clack sounds with every step.
The rhythm was impeccably precise, its timing absurdly steady.
On the fourth rotation, it pushed off with a rear hoof and executed a textbook arabesque in midair!
Evelyn crossed her arms and tilted her head to admire the performance.
“Hermione, look at the height on that grand jeté.
Pure professional quality.”
Hermione’s jaw dropped so wide she couldn’t close it for ten solid seconds.
“Th-The troll?”
“You’re looking at it.”
“It’s dancing ballet?!”
“*Swan Lake*, Act II, the White Swan Variation.
Look at that foot position—a perfect fifth.”
Hermione stooped down to pick up her wand, then straightened back up.
She repeated this exact sequence three times.
Hermione: (ᗒ᷄﹏ᗕ᷅;)
“What did you do to it?!”
“An aesthetic makeover.
System product, quality guaranteed.”
“What system?
What makeover?!
You turned a three-meter-tall troll into a ballet-dancing pig?!”
“A *pink* pig.
Details matter, Hermione.”
The pig executed a fluid series of bourrée steps across the puddle, its tiptoes skimming the surface and sending up dainty splashes of water.
When it twirled right over to Hermione’s feet, it raised its head to look at her.
Its beady black eyes glistened bright, with drops of water clinging to its eyelashes.
It gave a soft oink and kept dancing.
Hermione took three steps back until her spine hit a stall door.
“Is it still aggressive?!”
“Do you think a little pig in a ballet tutu is going to attack you?”
“Ten minutes ago it was swinging a wooden club and breaking water pipes!”
“Ten minutes ago it was a troll.
Now it’s an artist.”
Evelyn crouched down and patted the pig on the head.
The pig flicked its ears without pausing its twirls, its hooves tapping out a steady rhythm on the tile.
Green text flashed across the system panel.
[Mischief Points +350!
Reason: Severely derailed original canon storyline!]
[Mischief Points +80!
Reason: Hermione Granger’s emotional fluctuation reached peak level!]
[Current Total: 1830.]
Evelyn closed the panel, scooped the pig out of the puddle, and tucked it under her arm.
The pig squirmed twice in her grip, its hind legs still kicking out dance steps in midair.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“Get out?
We’re walking out holding a dancing pig?!”
“We can’t spend the night in the bathroom.
The pipes burst—if we don’t leave now, it’s going to flood.”
Hermione looked down at her shoes; water had already risen past her ankles.
She took a deep breath, yanked the blue quill out of her bag, and jammed it back into her pencil case.
“Evelyn, you owe me a complete explanation after this.
That gun, that silver disc, and this pig—every single thing!”
“Fine, I’ll buy you a pumpkin juice when we get back.”
“I don’t want pumpkin juice!
I want an explanation!”
…
Evelyn walked out of the bathroom with the pig tucked under her arm, her boots crunching against broken tiles.
The corridor was a scene of utter carnage.
The ruined remains of Jack-o’-lanterns were strewn across the floor, chunks of blown-up pumpkin flesh sticking to the walls as orange juice trickled down the stonework.
Water pouring from the broken pipes seeped under the bathroom door, spreading a thin sheet across the corridor floor.
The pig squirmed restlessly under Evelyn’s arm, smearing half her face with glitter from its pink skirt.
Hasty footsteps echoed from the far end of the corridor.
At least three people, all running.
Evelyn stopped in her tracks.
Hermione grabbed her sleeve.
“The professors are coming!”
“I hear them.”
“You’re holding a pig in a ballet dress, and the floor is covered in crushed pumpkin and water!
How are you planning to explain this?!”
Evelyn glanced down at the pig.
The pig tilted its head back to look up at her, its beady black eyes blinking while its hooves continued tracing circles in the air.
Evelyn: (¬‿¬)
The footsteps turned the corner of the hallway.
The foremost figure was short and agile, Professor McGonagall’s green robes billowing out in a sharp, sweeping arc.
Following right behind, billowing black robes stirred up a chilly gust, bringing a wave of rose fragrance mingled with the damp chill of the dungeons.
It was Severus Snape.
His gaze swept from the crushed pumpkin to the water, then moved from the water to the glitter on Evelyn’s face.
Finally, his eyes locked dead on the pig wearing the pink ballet dress.
The pig chose that exact moment to execute a flawless midair split.
The tips of its hind hooves were pointed perfectly straight, the satin ribbons fluttering against Evelyn’s robes and settling into a neat bow.
Professor McGonagall stood rooted to the spot.
Snape stood right behind her.
The corridor fell silent except for the dripping of water from the pipes and the faint swoosh of pig hooves slicing through the air.
Professor McGonagall adjusted her spectacles.
Snape’s left eyelid twitched three times.
Hermione ducked half a step behind Evelyn.
Evelyn straightened her spine, hoisted the pig up slightly, and faced the two professors with utmost sincerity.
“Happy Halloween, Professors!”
The pig chimed in with a timely oink, rising onto all four tip-hooves to perform a curtain-call curtsy.
Professor McGonagall’s mouth twitched twice, her fingers tightening around her wand.
Snape took a step forward, the hem of his robes splashing into the puddle and wetting the tops of his boots.
His voice squeezed out through gritted teeth, word by word.
“Valentine…
what is this thing?”
Evelyn looked down at the pig, then looked up at Snape.
“Professor, do you mean this pig?”
“I am asking you where the three-meter-tall mountain troll in the corridor went!”
Evelyn looked down at the pink creature tucked beneath her arm.
The pig was currently hooking her cuff with the tip of its hoof.
She raised her head again, meeting Snape’s iron-gray face.
She opened her mouth to answer, but another rush of footsteps echoed from further down the hallway, accompanied by two synchronized, heavy gasps.
Fred and George burst out from the stairwell.
Covered in sweat, their school ties hung crookedly over their shoulders.
When Fred spotted the pig in Evelyn’s arms, he skidded to a halt and froze completely.
George crashed into Fred’s back, and the two wobbled like a set of dominoes.
He poked his head over Fred’s shoulder, staring intently at the pink piglet currently executing midair splits.
Fred: (⊙ᗜ⊙;)
Evelyn turned to them with a brilliant smile.
“Just in time.”
“Evelyn…” Fred wiped sweat from his face, his voice dazed.
“Is that our Halloween present?”
“No, this is tonight’s star performer.”
Snape’s face had turned from livid pale to a bizarre shade of purplish-red.
He strode fiercely across the puddle, his black robes flaring out like massive bat wings.
“Valentine!
I am asking you one last time!
Where is the troll?!”
Evelyn looked down at the pig in her arms.
The pig was nuzzling her palm with its wet snout, its hind legs still tapping out a rhythm.
She thrust the pig forward, bringing it nearly eye-to-eye with Snape’s nose.
“Professor, this *is* the troll.”
The corridor fell into a dead, absolute silence.
Only the lingering hiss of water spraying from the pipes echoed in the air.
The tip of Professor McGonagall’s wand twitched.
She adjusted her spectacles, her voice laced with sheer disbelief.
“You mean to tell me…
this pig wearing a…
ballet tutu…
is that three-meter-tall troll?”
“Technically, it’s a troll after aesthetic reform,” Evelyn corrected with utter solemnity.
“Not only is it non-aggressive now, but it can even perform the entirety of *Swan Lake*.”
To prove her point, Evelyn let go.
The pig landed gracefully on the surface of the water, sending out a delicate ring of ripples.
It twirled with elegance, its pink tulle skirt brushing against Snape’s leather boots and leaving behind a line of glittering pink sequins.
It raised its head and executed a flawless curtain-call bow right before Snape.
Snape stared down at the sparkles on his boots, then looked back up at the pig.
His lips quivered violently, as if a deluge of venomous words were lodged in his throat with no fitting way out.
The system panel flashed feverishly.
[Mischief Points +150!
Reason: Severus Snape fell into severe self-doubt.]
[Mischief Points +120!
Reason: Minerva McGonagall’s worldview suffered a violent shock.]
[Mischief Points +200!
Reason: The Weasley twins’ admiration for you reached a new height.]
[Current Total: 2300.]
Fred and George traded glances and let out a simultaneous sharp gasp.
“Genius!”
“An absolute genius!”
They rushed over to Evelyn’s side and began circling the pig.
“How did you do that?
Professor McGonagall hasn’t even taught Transfiguration like this!”
Professor McGonagall finally retrieved her voice.
“Weasleys!
Silence!”
She drew a deep breath, fighting to maintain her authority as Deputy Headmistress.
“Miss Valentine, Miss Granger.
I believe you need to come with me to my office.
Immediately!”
She stole another glance at the pig still pirouetting on tiptoes in the puddle.
“And…
bring this ‘artist’ along.”