Suddenly, loud pounding on the door echoed through the room, followed by hurried footsteps. Moments later, Professor McGonagall stormed in, with Snape close behind and Quirrell trailing at the rear. Quirrell took one look at the pile of troll remains, turned deathly pale, clutched his chest, and collapsed onto a toilet seat.
Snape surveyed the chaotic room briefly before bending to inspect the troll's remains. Professor McGonagall fixed Augustus with a peculiar expression.
"Would anyone care to explain what's going on here? What exactly were you all doing?" she demanded, her gaze shifting from Harry and Ron, who looked guilty and hesitant, to Hermione, still crouching on the ground with an unreadable expression.
"Clearly, this is the work of Augustus, the sole heir of the Julius family," Snape said coldly, straightening up. "While I can't pinpoint exactly what spell caused this level of devastation, it's far beyond the abilities of Potter and Weasley." His icy eyes flickered with a faint hint of satisfaction as he regarded Augustus.
"Augustus, was this your doing?" Professor McGonagall asked, astonishment evident in her voice.
"Please don't blame him, Professor McGonagall—they were looking for me. I came to find the troll because… I thought I could handle it on my own. You see, I've read about trolls and thought I understood them. In the end, Augustus saved me. It was my recklessness that caused this mess," Hermione finally said, struggling to her feet.
"So, it's all clear now," Snape drawled lazily, a faint sneer on his lips. "Miss Granger, with her arrogance, decided to challenge a troll alone and left everyone to deal with the consequences. Augustus saved her at a critical moment. That's the whole story, isn't it?" Hermione's face went pale under Snape's sarcastic tone. Harry and Ron, guilt-ridden, lowered their heads, realizing the gravity of their earlier actions.
Professor McGonagall's lips twitched slightly, her disappointment evident. Gryffindor students always seemed to find ways to embarrass themselves in comparison to Augustus. "Miss Granger, you foolish girl. How could you possibly think you could take on a mountain troll alone? Gryffindor will lose ten points for this recklessness," she said sternly. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not injured, return to the Gryffindor common room immediately. The other students are still enjoying the Halloween feast."
Hermione left, her head bowed in shame.
Turning her attention to Harry and Ron, who remained silent and shaken, Professor McGonagall cast a disapproving look before addressing Augustus. "Mr. Augustus, for a first-year student to defeat a troll shows not only great courage but commendable skill. Therefore, Slytherin will gain twenty points. Now, all of you return to the castle immediately," she said before leaving the room. Snape shot Augustus a satisfied glance before following her. Quirrell was the last to leave, casting Augustus a complex, unreadable look before departing.
"Why did Professor Quirrell look at you like that?" Ron asked curiously as the trio exited the girls' bathroom and headed back to the castle.
"Maybe he's embarrassed that a first-year defeated the troll he ran away from," Harry speculated with a grin.
Augustus remained silent, his thoughts elsewhere. He had clearly sensed a strange, sinister power emanating from Quirrell—a fluctuation close to the legendary realm, probing him subtly. His suspicions about the stuttering professor were now confirmed: Quirrell was hiding something dark and powerful. Things were becoming increasingly intriguing, Augustus mused, a faint smile playing on his lips.
As November settled in, the weather grew bitterly cold. The mountains surrounding the school were shrouded in gray, cloaked in snow and ice. The surface of the lake gleamed like frozen steel, and frost coated the ground each morning. From the upper windows, students could see Hagrid bundled in a long moleskin coat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaver-fur boots as he defrosted the brooms on the Quidditch pitch.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione had formed a close trio, often sneaking off together outside of class. Augustus frequently encountered them in the library, where he went to borrow books. Harry always seemed preoccupied and serious, though Augustus didn't pry; teenage thoughts were often mysterious, and probing seemed unnecessary.
The Quidditch season began, and as Slytherin's unofficial leader, Augustus was obliged to attend the matches and supervise the first-years' behavior, even if the sport held little interest for him.
On the morning of the first match, the Great Hall was filled with the enticing aroma of sausages. By eleven o'clock, nearly the entire school had gathered in the Quidditch stands. Some students brought binoculars to watch the game, as the seats rose high into the air, making it difficult to see clearly.
"Mount your brooms, please," Madam Hooch commanded before blowing her silver whistle sharply.
Fifteen brooms shot into the sky, and the game began.
The match was intense, or so it seemed to most of the school. To Augustus, however, the players darting back and forth after a few balls held little appeal. He lazily observed the players while half-listening to Malfoy's incessant complaints.
Midway through the match, Harry's broom suddenly began jerking violently, zigzagging erratically through the air. Harry clung on desperately, dangling precariously. Augustus narrowed his eyes, sensing a curse being cast on Harry's broomstick.
He prepared to use his "Eye of Inquiry" to identify the caster when Hermione ran up to him, clutching binoculars. "It's Snape! Snape is cursing Harry!" she whispered urgently, pointing to the teachers' stand.
Instead of taking the binoculars, Augustus cast a detection spell on Snape. To his surprise, Snape was casting a protective charm, trying to safeguard Harry. Augustus stabilized Harry's broom temporarily before scanning the crowd using the Eye of Inquiry.
The true culprit was revealed: Quirrell, seated slightly above the teachers, muttering a spell. A quick detection confirmed it—Quirrell was indeed cursing Harry. With a flick of his wand, Augustus silently cast *Fear*, a necromantic spell. It struck Quirrell, who trembled violently and broke his concentration.
Quirrell recovered quickly, far faster than expected. His reaction hinted at power near the legendary level. Quirrell glanced around nervously before hurriedly pocketing his wand and fleeing.
Meanwhile, Harry managed to steady his broom and descended toward the ground, clutching his stomach as though about to vomit. He landed on all fours, coughing, before triumphantly holding up a small golden object.
"I caught the Snitch!" Harry shouted, lifting the ball high above his head. The match ended in chaos.
As Gryffindor celebrated wildly and Slytherins fumed, Augustus left the stands silently, his expression as inscrutable as ever. The pieces were falling into place, and Hogwarts' mysteries were beginning to unravel.
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