Chapter 42: A Very Gentle Professor
Outside the girls’ bathroom.
Dim lights barely illuminated the corridor, and a foul stench permeated the passageway, like the smell of excrement and socks fermenting together.
Low grumbling mixed with the sound of thick soles stepping on the stone floor.
Two first-year students hid behind the corner, only about a dozen feet from the troll, peeking out with half their heads and clinging to the wall. A bit scared, a bit excited, and a bit nervous, complex emotions intertwined, making their legs slightly weak.
“It’s gone into the room.”
“I saw it.”
“The key is in the lock.” Harry lowered his voice and murmured, “We can lock it inside, eliminate the danger, and safely go find Hermione.”
“Good idea.”
“…”
The two whispered and discussed for a while, then crept along the wall toward the door, fearing the troll would suddenly burst out swinging its club, their hearts pounding, heartbeats louder than their footsteps.
After gauging the distance, Harry suddenly jumped forward, yanked out the key, and slammed the door shut with a bang.
The lock clicked securely into place.
“Done!”
The two cheered, their hearts beating even faster.
They had defeated the troll!
Now it was safe.
The two first-year students, faces flushed with excitement, prepared to head down the passageway to find Hermione, but after just a few steps, they saw the figure of a professor and nearly collided with him.
“Pro… Professor Levent.”
Caught breaking the school rules red-handed this time.
Harry felt uneasy inside and quietly observed the professor’s expression: “Professor, we didn’t mean to break the school rules. We were looking for Hermione. She wasn’t in the great hall during the evacuation. Lavender said she was in the girls’ bathroom, so we came to tell her about the troll.”
Melvin pondered briefly: “One question, gentlemen. If the little witch you mentioned was in the bathroom, guess what room you just locked the troll into?”
!!
Harry and Ron’s minds exploded with a boom, cold sweat soaking their backs, their faces showing identical expressions of horror.
One was a dozen-foot mountain troll, the other a first-year student less than four feet tall, locked in a narrow bathroom with no escape… The two almost didn’t dare think further.
Ron said desperately, his voice trembling: “Professor, go save Hermione quick, save her!”
“Didn’t you say she was a nightmare? Why save him now?” a light, floating female voice asked.
“I was talking nonsense. She’s not a nightmare. She’s a good student. Go save her quick.”
Harry sensed something off about the voice, glanced behind the professor, and immediately relaxed. Then, seeing his roommate nearly in tears, he felt a bit embarrassed and tugged at his robe.
Ron pushed his hand away and continued whimpering tremulously: “What are you pulling me for? Explain it clearly to the professor quick so he can go save Hermione. If anything happens to Hermione, we’re accomplices to the troll. It’s all my fault…”
Harry sighed helplessly and turned his face toward the little witch beside them: “Take a look at who this is.”
“Hermione? Hermione!”
“…”
“You weren’t in the bathroom!”
“If I were in the bathroom, you’d have gotten me killed.”
“Sorry, Hermione. I shouldn’t have said you were a nightmare. It’s all my fault…”
“I have things I didn’t do well too. I’ll pay attention from now on.”
“No, it’s our problem.”
“…”
Melvin quietly watched this important scene of the iron triangle establishing relations, then shifted his gaze and noticed the wooden door trembling: “Ladies, gentlemen, I don’t mean to interrupt your reconciliation, but if we don’t open the door for the troll gentleman soon, he’s going to make trouble.”
The three little wizards were startled and turned to look.
“Thud! Thud! Thud!”
The old wooden door emitted dull crashing sounds, wood chips and dust constantly shaking off, the cracking of planks growing clearer, the entire door trembling with increasing amplitude.
The crashing paused for a few seconds.
The next moment, the thick wooden door shattered with a boom.
Splinters and debris flew everywhere, only the metal hinges holding two remaining planks, which cracked and broke as the twelve-foot mountain troll squeezed out of the room, its bulging, solid muscles crushing them.
The troll’s arms were nearly twice the length of its legs, its massive body topped with a bludger-sized head, the proportions grotesquely uncoordinated. A thick wooden stick dragged behind it, its skin dull grayish-green, covered with a hard shell formed from dried mud, emitting a nauseating stench.
The troll that emerged from the girls’ bathroom stopped in place, suspiciously scanning the surroundings, its gaze locking onto the four students and teacher not far away. After a brief hesitation, it lumbered clumsily toward them, raising the wooden stick in its hand.
“Professor…” Ron’s voice trembled.
The other two said nothing, bodies tense, right hands reaching for their wands, though their grips differed slightly.
Melvin noticed Granger held her wand normally, ready to cast a spell at any moment, while Potter gripped his wand reversed, not like casting but like holding a dagger, ready to rush up and stab the troll a couple times.
“…”
Melvin sighed: “I’m the Muggle Studies professor. Even Headmaster Dumbledore didn’t say I had to handle combat teaching.”
Hermione glanced suspiciously at the professor, preparing a spell while calculating when the headmaster would arrive—the earlier noise surely would have drawn attention.
Harry realized he’d gripped his wand backward, corrected his hold, and tentatively suggested: “Then let’s run quick and get Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall?”
Ron nodded vigorously: “Yeah, yeah, the troll definitely can’t catch us.”
“Forget it, let’s substitute for a lesson for now.”
Hearing Professor Levent’s words, the first-year students immediately looked up, eyes fixed unblinkingly on the professor, eager to observe how he wielded his wand and witness real combat magic from an adult wizard up close.
Melvin, about to cast wandlessly, paused, and out of professional ethics as a professor, drew his wand and clearly recited the spell:
【Water as clear as a spring】
【Wingardium Leviosa】
The three first-year students were a bit dazed. These two spells didn’t match their expectations for combat magic at all—too basic, too simple, simple enough that they had practiced them in class that day.
A glob of clear water condensed in midair, the lights reflected on its surface shattering into shimmering silver scales, somewhat dazzling.
The troll stared impatiently at the floating water glob blocking its path. Before it could swing its wooden stick, the clear water slowly approached and gently enveloped its head.
The troll opened its mouth in pained roar, its throat bobbing violently, but no sound came out. Several large bubbles escaped its mouth and nose as the clear water poured through its open teeth, turning the roars behind into finer bubbles.
Veins bulged on the troll’s forehead, its face twisting into a grotesque, terrifying expression. Its whole body convulsed violently, steps staggering, hands flailing wildly. But the floating water ignored the force; no matter how it pounded and tore, it stubbornly clung to the head.
In just over ten seconds, that brute force suddenly ebbed, the tensed body relaxing, leaning backward, limbs twitching with decreasing intensity, like a beached cod gradually ceasing to struggle.
The clear water, stained with the mud shell from its skin, turned murky with waves of silt.
When the surface calmed, the murky mud and sand floated in the water, with occasional tiny bubbles rising.
The three students stared dazedly at the troll lying on the ground.
“Splash.”
The murky water glob suddenly dispersed, splashing on the ground with a clear water sound.
The three students snapped awake, wanting to say something, but their throats felt dry, fine cold sweat beaded on their backs, their bodies chilled, and their hearts even colder.
“Don’t worry, just drowned and passed out.”
Melvin, ever dutiful, followed the practical demonstration with theoretical explanation: “Trolls are divided into three types by habitat: mountain trolls, swamp trolls, and river trolls. They have violent tempers, immense strength, and tough mud shells covering their bodies that make conventional magic hard to affect. When safety is assured, drowning them is the fastest way to incapacitate them. Also, these creatures can swim innately and have strong vitality, so they’ll recover soon.”
Hermione looked at the unconscious troll, water slowly draining from its mouth and nose as blocked airways cleared, its chest still rising and falling slightly with signs of life.
“…”
Professor Levent hadn’t cruelly slaughtered the troll.
She silently breathed a sigh of relief, unsure why.
Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, staying silent. This professor was odd—reliable at times, scary at others.
After a moment, Professor McGonagall arrived hurriedly, other professors behind her. Snape and Quirrell brought up the rear. Seeing the troll on the ground, they seemed unable to accept it, clutching the headscarf hanging at his chest and emitting feeble sobs.
Melvin’s eye twitched slightly. Anyone unaware of the situation might think the troll was Quirrell’s Halloween date.
Professor McGonagall surveyed the scene, expression stern: “Melvin, what exactly happened?”
Melvin pondered briefly: “It started an hour ago. I was heading back late to wash up for the banquet when I ran into Miss Granger on her way to the bathroom. We chatted briefly en route. Then we saw the great hall evacuating students. Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, worried for their classmate’s safety, came to inform us of the troll. But halfway, we actually encountered the troll, and then…”
He pointed at the troll lying on the ground.
Snape stepped forward to check the troll. Seconds later, he looked up and said gravely to Professor McGonagall: “Drowned and suffocated, temporarily unconscious.”
Quirrell immediately stopped sobbing.
…
One hour later.
Gryffindor girls’ dormitory.
After washing up and changing into her winter robe, Hermione neatly folded her wizard robe from earlier. As she prepared to put it in the laundry basket, she pulled a hazelnut chocolate from the pocket, paused, and examined the production date and expiration.
Her two roommates were already asleep. Her two roommates were still awake.
Parvati sat bedside, holding the Transfiguration textbook but previewing inattentively—glancing at the book, at her roommate, at her roommate again, then at the book… before quietly turning the upside-down book right-side up.
Lavender was much more direct. Already lying down, she threw off the quilt and sat up, chattering:
“Hermione, where were you? Did you run into the troll?
“You?”
“We didn’t see you on the way back and immediately reported to Weasley prefect. Weasley prefect told Professor McGonagall. The boys said Harry and Ron were missing too.”
“…”
Hermione repeated Professor Levent’s wording, all content true but with appropriate detail omitted and wording slightly adjusted. Everything that night was a pure accident, with no point deduction for any student.
Parvati set down her textbook, full of envy. Few in Gryffindor House were truly settled.
Lavender’s eyes widened with curiosity: “Harry and Ron noticed you were missing—why’d they go find you themselves instead of telling a professor?”
Hermione paused briefly. She’d asked the same question not long ago, but there was no answer. She replied calmly: “Maybe their brains don’t turn that way.”
“Like the troll?”
“…Yeah.”
“How did Professor Levent deal with the troll?”
“Water spell combined with Levitation Charm to drown and suffocate it.” After answering, Hermione glanced at her, knowing she usually paid attention to Professor Levent and might worry he was cruel. “Just suffocated unconscious, didn’t kill the troll.”
“Calm and collected, winning with wisdom, not violent at all—must have been very elegant, right?”
“…” Hermione fell silent again, recalling the scene, and softly hummed in agreement.
“Did they figure out at the end how the troll got into the school?”
“Seems the professors needed to buy a troll for some other work.” Hermione relayed what she’d heard. “Professor Quirrell of Defence Against the Dark Arts thought to buy an extra one as a teaching aid for higher-year students while at it, kept it in an underground abandoned classroom, and it escaped on Halloween when unsupervised.”
“Will Professor Quirrell get expelled?”
“Probably not. Professor McGonagall said she’d discuss with Headmaster Dumbledore how to handle the troll afterward—no mention of punishing Professor Quirrell.”
“That’s too bad…”
Parvati and Lavender were both quite regretful. If Professor Levent was popular with girls, Professor Quirrell was the opposite extreme—odd clothing, sloppy behavior, headscarf unchanged for months, strong odor, no one willing to sit in the front row during class.
“Yeah.”
Hermione didn’t join their talk on clothing, staring at the chocolate in her hand as memories of her few interactions with Professor Levent surfaced.
Saw through her embarrassment at a glance.
Always had candy in his pocket.
Casually suggested sharing candy as a way to get along harmoniously with classmates.
Occasionally told untimely stand-up joke bits.
Set up wind-blocking magic during courtyard chats.
Easily subdued a 5X-level dangerous creature.
“…”
Young yet very wise, a very gentle professor.
Putting the clothing in the laundry basket and taking off her shoes to get into bed, Hermione examined the hazelnut chocolate under the dim light, finally confirming Honeydukes candy store’s production was sloppy—no production date or expiration.
Normally such candy has a six-month shelf life; handmade without preservatives, it’s uncertain.
Maybe a week, maybe 30 days.
Not sure if wizard craft has preservation magic.
Hermione squeezed the candy in her palm and pursed her lips.
Too bad to throw away—find time to ask Professor Levent.
To avoid misunderstanding, clarify: Hermione saw him as a brotherly figure, no taboo teacher-student romance.
