Chapter 46: Troll
The corridor on the first floor, due to the students’ departure, quickly became deserted.
Only the light of the pumpkin lanterns from the Great Hall carried a trace of warmth; the rest was silence and gloom.
A strange sound echoed in the corridor—
“Thump, thump, thump…”
Then, Vaughn suddenly appeared in the air, looking speechlessly at his side: “What are you shaking for?”
A tearful voice with a heavy nasal tone came from the air: “I’m scared… didn’t you hear? It’s a troll!”
“Thanks for the reminder, but Ronald, I was the one who told you this news. Didn’t I say I would protect you and cast the Disillusionment Charm on you?”
As he spoke, Vaughn peered towards the Great Hall.
The flickering lights from there shone, entering his eyes and making them flicker with light and shadow.
Although he never intentionally changed anything.
Vaughn knew that his own existence was a disturbance to Harry’s destiny.
Everything that was happening at Hogwarts now differed from the novels he had read, though Vaughn also knew that some things were easily influenced, while others were destined to happen.
For example, Voldemort wanted to steal the Philosopher’s Stone!
As long as the Philosopher’s Stone remained at Hogwarts, and as long as Voldemort needed it, the Halloween night incident would hardly change.
Because causing trouble on Halloween was the best opportunity; only then would all the young wizards be gathered together, making management convenient, and Dumbledore and the professors would feel at ease leaving to deal with any sudden events.
Quirrell would not give up such an opportunity.
As expected, everything went as Vaughn had predicted; the troll was indeed released into Hogwarts by Quirrell.
Now, it remained to be seen if he had the courage to go to the Fourth Floor…
After waiting a while longer, Vaughn finally saw a figure sneak out of the Great Hall. It was Quirrell, who had pretended to be unconscious earlier—that distinctive turban was too easy to spot.
He looked around for a moment, making sure the professors were gone, and then hurried upstairs.
Vaughn exhaled softly. The reason he wanted to confirm this was, on one hand, to try and see if there was an opportunity to access the Philosopher’s Stone, and on the other hand, to confirm something.
Without getting any Unicorn Blood, how was Socket Man doing in his current state?
Seeing Quirrell disappear up the stairs, Vaughn was about to say something to Ron when he heard Ron beside him trembling and whispering in fear:
“Someone like that, h-how can you protect me?”
Vaughn turned back; he had already seen it. Around the corner of the corridor ahead, a creature at least 12 feet tall, with dull, rock-like gray skin, was walking out, carrying a wooden club.
The behemoth had a sturdy body, like a moving small mountain, and even though its tiny head sat comically on its shoulders.
This did not detract from the immense pressure its colossal size exerted!
Mother… I might really be about to die…
Ron began to weep inwardly. He knew that whenever Vaughn showed that kind of smile, nothing good would come of it. He really shouldn’t have gambled and agreed to Vaughn’s proposal.
The only solace was that at least at lunchtime, he had already told Harry his last words!
“…My luck is pretty bad.”
Hearing the chattering of teeth beside him growing louder, even attracting the attention of the troll, Vaughn sighed:
“Alas, honestly Ronald, you shouldn’t call me brother anymore.”
He slowly drew his wand. The troll opposite had already spotted him, breathing excitedly and walking quickly towards them.
Although it was described as walking, given the troll’s size and stride, it was almost instantly upon them.
Its massive club was raised high.
Ron could barely refrain from screaming.
Then he saw Vaughn raise his wand, his face, which he usually feared, showing no hesitation or cowardice:
“Crumble and Shatter!”
Bang!
The club, which had created a violent sound as it cleaved the air, shattered under the powerful spell, followed by two consecutive spells.
“Explode!”
“Explode!”
The light of the spells flashed through the darkness like lightning.
They struck the troll heavily, blasting out clouds of dust and debris, and the disturbed airflow made the candles on the walls flicker.
The dim-witted troll only reacted at this point, opening its mouth to scream, to roar.
But the moment it opened its mouth, Ron heard Vaughn quickly chant the spell:
“Thunderclap Explosion!”
An invisible, hidden power shot out, and the air seemed to grow cold for a moment!
The next moment…
Ron saw the troll’s teeth and tongue suddenly explode.
The instant soft mush formed, another identical spell struck, and the fragile bones of its mouth could no longer withstand it.
Puff—
With a muffled sound, the troll’s upper jaw and head flew off, spewing foul-smelling blood.
Thump!
The troll’s head hit the ground and rolled over.
Its two small, confused eyes blinked a few times before it seemed to comprehend its fate, its pupils widening as the light faded from them.
Gulp!
Ron’s throat bobbed, and he couldn’t help but clench his legs together.
In just a few seconds, the roller coaster of life had been too intense; his mind was blank.
Dealing with a troll was not a difficult task for Vaughn.
Apart from their skin having relatively high resistance to spells, these stupid creatures were useless for anything else.
If he hadn’t wanted to resolve it quickly and with as little commotion as possible, Vaughn had many ways to toy with it.
He swung his wand, dispelling the Disillusionment Charm on Ron. The moment the spell was lifted, Ron collapsed to the ground with a thud.
Vaughn looked at him: “Did you wet your pants?”
For the sake of his dignity, Ron managed to react before nodding.
Stuttering and blushing, he tried to puff out his chest: “N-no!”
Vaughn, not bothering to engage, pulled out a strand of hair and muttered a short spell, which immediately ignited.
He patted the resulting ashes onto Ron’s neck and instructed: “This magic will last for an hour. Go and guard the exit to the Basement for me. If the professors come out, whisper my name, and I’ll know.”
Ron’s puffed-out chest deflated again, and he looked pleadingly at Vaughn: “Where are you going?”
Vaughn paid no attention to his agreement. Amidst Ron’s pained cry, he pulled out another strand of Ron’s hair.
Performing the same action, he patted the resulting ashes onto his own throat.
He continued, “If the professors don’t come out and you hear me say your name, hurry down to find Dumbledore, understand?”
Seeing that Vaughn was ignoring his question and knowing he couldn’t refuse, Ron could only nod in agreement.
Having arranged everything, Vaughn patted his pocket and then followed Quirrell’s recent path upstairs.
In fact, arranging for Ron to stand guard was his habitual caution; he didn’t expect it to be of any use.
The reason he dared to follow Quirrell, or rather, Voldemort’s reliance, was in his pocket!
