As Harry and the others, exhilarated by their narrow escape, sprinted down the passage, a loud thud echoed behind them. Harry turned his head just in time to see the door they had locked moments ago shatter open, a massive wooden splinter flying straight toward him.
His breath caught in his throat—there was no time to dodge. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the impact.
But before the debris could hit him, a powerful force yanked him down. The shard whizzed past, barely missing his head.
Ryan had followed them and reacted swiftly. The moment he saw the danger, he had pulled Harry out of harm's way.
"So, trolls have some level of intelligence after all." Ryan thought as he quickly analyzed the situation. "Since the toilet was empty, it prioritized attacking those closest to it—us, the ones who just locked it inside."
"The toilet door won't hold it!" Ryan shouted. "The noise we made while locking the door must've provoked it. Now, we need to figure out a way to trap it inside, or we'll never outrun it in this corridor!"
Without hesitation, Ryan pointed his wand and cast a newly learned offensive spell.
"Hot and Spicy!"
A burst of red sparks flew toward the troll, but the creature instinctively raised its arm, shielding itself from the impact. Though startled for a moment, it quickly resumed its efforts to squeeze through the doorway.
Seeing this, Ron and Harry sprang into action, each shouting their own spells.
"Grinning and Hooray!"
"Tarantella Dance!"
Their spells struck the troll but had little effect. It merely hesitated for a second before growling in frustration and swinging its massive club. The force of the blow smashed part of the door frame, sending splinters flying as it pushed forward.
"So the book was right—trolls really do have high magic resistance." Ryan grimaced.
At that moment, Hermione, regaining her composure, pointed her wand at one of the faucets in the ruined bathroom.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
The faucet, wrenched from its fixture, clattered to the floor with a loud, metallic bang.
The troll, having an incredibly low IQ, immediately turned its head toward the noise. Its primitive instincts kicked in—loud sounds often meant threats or food.
Seizing the opportunity, the four students crept backward, hoping to put some distance between themselves and the monster.
They had barely managed twenty meters when a furious roar erupted from the bathroom. The troll had realized it had been tricked—and the small, irritating creatures that had taunted it were now running away.
"RUN!" Ryan shouted.
The four of them bolted down the corridor as fast as their legs could carry them.
With another thunderous crash, the troll smashed through the walls on either side of the bathroom door, shattering the stone and tearing through the narrow space. Its massive frame barely fit through the opening, and jagged debris scraped across its thick skin, cutting into its palms.
A stench of blood filled the air, trailing behind the enraged beast as it pursued them.
"What now?!" Ron yelled, his breath ragged. "It's getting closer!"
Ryan's mind raced. "We need to turn a few corners and find a place it can't fit into. We can't run toward the Great Hall—there might be other students there. We can't bring the troll anywhere near them."
They rounded a bend and spotted a heavy wooden door up ahead. It was small—just over a meter wide and two meters high—reinforced with iron bands. A promising hiding spot.
"That looks like a storage room!" Hermione gasped.
Harry pointed his wand at the lock. "Alohomora!"
The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit storage space filled with broken brooms, rusted buckets, and various old supplies.
The four students hurried inside, slammed the door shut, and pressed themselves against the walls, trying to stay silent.
Heavy footsteps rumbled outside. The troll had stopped.
Then came the sickening sniffling sound—loud and grotesque. It was trying to catch their scent.
"Will it find us?" Hermione whispered, her teeth chattering.
Ryan forced himself to stay calm. "Maybe, but it can't get through such a small door."
The words had barely left his lips when the door burst open.
The troll rammed against the frame, trying to squeeze through. Its head and one arm managed to fit, but the rest of its massive body was too wide to pass through.
Frustrated, it thrashed wildly, sending buckets and wooden planks flying. With each desperate attempt, it swung its club blindly, shattering shelves and barrels within reach.
Its bloodshot eyes darted around the room, searching for its prey.
Ryan, catching his breath, scanned the storage space for something—anything—that could help them.
His gaze fell on the iron chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
A bold idea struck him.
"Can you guys break the ring holding that chandelier?" Ryan whispered urgently.
Harry looked up and nodded. "The three of us should be able to do it together."
"Good. On my count, hit that ring with all you've got. I'll handle the rest."
The others nodded.
"Ready?"
"Ready!"
"1—2—3! Hands-on! Wingardium Leviosa!"
The chandelier's supporting ring snapped, but instead of crashing down, it hovered midair—held in place by Ryan's magic.
Sweat beaded on his forehead as he guided the heavy fixture toward the door.
At that moment, the troll pushed its head inside again, trying to locate them.
Ryan released the spell.
The chandelier plummeted, its sharp iron edges slamming into the troll's skull from a height of six meters.
A sickening crunch echoed through the room.
The force of the impact drove the troll's head into the stone floor, leaving a deep indentation. A sharp corner of the chandelier had pierced the back of its skull, and red-and-white fluid seeped from the wound.
Its neck twisted at an unnatural angle.
The troll collapsed, its massive body blocking the doorway.
Ryan exhaled. "It's done. It's over."
The four of them, exhausted, slid down against the wall, their bodies trembling with adrenaline and exhaustion.
Their legs felt weak—the intense fear from earlier had left them completely drained.
After several minutes of heavy breathing, Hermione's voice broke the silence.
"I-Is it... dead?" she asked, her voice shaking.
Ryan swallowed. "I... think so. I don't think anything could survive that."
Suddenly—BANG!
Loud footsteps and urgent knocking at the blocked entrance made all four students snap their heads up.
They had been so caught up in the battle, they hadn't realized how much noise they had made.
The faculty must have heard the crashes, the roars, and the chaos from downstairs.
Moments later, Professor Flitwick used magic to lift the fallen troll away from the doorway.
Professor McGonagall stormed inside, her wand glowing as she scanned the scene. Snape and Quirrell followed close behind.
Quirrell took one look at the dead troll, let out a weak sob, and collapsed onto a crate, clutching his chest.
Snape crouched to inspect the creature, his expression unreadable.
Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall turned to face the students.
Ryan had never seen her look so furious.
After a moment, Snape stood up, looking mildly surprised. "You used a Floating Charm?"
"Yes," Ryan admitted, still staring at the bloodied chandelier. A wave of nausea rolled over him.
Snape nodded. "Killing a full-grown troll is a challenge even for adult wizards. For first-years, it's... impressive."
McGonagall, however, was far from impressed.
"You four are coming with me," she said sternly. "This incident resulted in the death of a magical creature and nearly cost you your own lives. The Headmaster must be informed."
She helped Hermione, who was shaking uncontrollably, to her feet and led them toward Dumbledore's office.
Ryan and the others followed, bracing themselves
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