Chapter 20
Following Potter with the whole company, we managed to reach the right corridor unnoticed, which was already filled with a stench reminiscent of a mix of long-unwashed sweaty socks and those very toilets in student dormitories where some especially gifted individuals, instead of flushing after themselves, ended up building pyramids out of crap. It's strange, really, that we remembered such a detail, but what's definitely a relief is—there's nothing like that at Hogwarts.
"The toilets should be over there," announced Ron, sounding like Captain Obvious himself, pointing at the two doors at the end of the corridor.
"Boom, boom"—a dull rumbling reached us, sounding like the footsteps of someone clearly heavier than Hagrid, accompanied by low growling noises, as if someone was speaking their thoughts out loud but didn't know any real language.
Soon after, a four-meter-tall humanoid stepped out from around the corner. His skin was a dull granite gray, his body lumpy like a boulder, and he had a tiny bald head that looked more like a coconut. The troll's legs were short and as thick as tree trunks, and his feet were wide and calloused. His arms were much longer than his legs, so the giant club he was holding dragged along the floor, and the stench coming from him could knock someone out better than any club.
Only about ten meters separated him and the bathroom door—which, considering his size, wasn't much—when suddenly, the bathroom door opened.
"What the hell smells like the Weasleys' barn in here…" Malfoy's contemptuous voice reached us as he appeared and then froze in horror at the sight of the troll towering over him, who, in turn, was also confused by the sudden appearance of an overly confident boy, and had yet to attack.
"Maybe just leave him?" suggested Ron, clearly annoyed by what he'd just heard. "The world surely won't miss Malfoy."
"No," Harry cut him off firmly. "We'll help him." Pulling out his wand, he ran toward the frozen pair. But quickly, the situation changed: the troll sniffed the air in a beastlike way, and the next moment, with a loud roar, raised his club, apparently intending to turn Malfoy into a cutlet.
To be honest, at that moment—when Hermione, realizing something terrible might happen, screamed in terror and closed her eyes—even on Ron's face, which had recently argued to just leave things as they were, there appeared hints of horror at the thought that Malfoy might actually get killed right in the school. We felt temptation. All we had to do was wait a miserable two seconds, and nobody would have blamed us for anything. "We tried to help, we showed goodwill, but alas, we didn't make it—happens to the best of us, right?" Yet, other thoughts also managed to slip in: "And how would we be any better than Voldemort then? We might be hypocrites, but still…"
In just over a second, Malfoy's fate was decided. When the club, now raised, started coming down fast on the petrified first-year, our magic grabbed hold of his clothes and yanked him out of the path of the club, saving him from becoming a bloody smear. Malfoy, propelled by our magic, slid along the slippery floor toward the charging Potter, who immediately helped him to his feet, and together they ran in our direction.
"Blorp?" uttered the thoroughly confused troll, who, due to his extremely low intelligence, could not understand where his victim had gone. He then saw the two boys running away, while a strange boy and girl started calmly approaching him.
"GRAAA!" the troll roared in fury and lunged. However, before he could take more than a few steps...
"Aguamenti," a girl's voice rang out.
"Glacius," came a boy's voice at the same moment.
From Andromeda's wand, a powerful stream of water burst forth; from Regulus's, a stream of frost. These two spells collided and, under our shared control, began to merge. The place of their union shot forth an icy serpent, which, though not sharply defined, writhed through the air as if made of liquid until it crashed into the troll, slamming him into the wall. The ice that had seemed liquid a moment earlier instantly solidified, piercing the tiny brain through the eyes and instantly killing the creature, its body left embedded in a transparent block of ice from which a slight fog started to condense.
Satisfied with the result of our combined magic, we nodded to each other. Our diligent study of these two spells was not in vain, though we could only pull off something this complex if we cast simultaneously with two bodies at once.
After staring at our handiwork for a moment, we approached Malfoy, who was now pale-faced, glancing back and forth between us and the troll, whose gouged-out eye sockets were fully visible. Apparently, he remembered that we had used a similar, though much weaker, spell on him before.
"You owe us your life, Malfoy, remember that," we told him, then looked at our—let's be honest here—friends, and said, "We're heading to the common room, and we suggest you hurry as well—the professors are probably already heading this way."
We really had no desire to talk to Malfoy, so we decided to go straight to the common room. As it turned out, the others felt the same way. Even though Harry had wanted to play the hero and save Malfoy, it didn't make him like the guy, so the rest quickly caught up with me, leaving Malfoy alone.
Five minutes later.
Malfoy was still standing in front of the troll's frozen corpse. His mind was overloaded with different thoughts—from how he'd lost so much respect in Slytherin that even Nott had dared to pick a fight with him, to the troll's empty, bloody eye sockets. Soon loud footsteps approached, among which Professor McGonagall's heels stood out distinctly.
"Oh my!" Quirrell gasped, feigning shock, and clutched his heart when he saw the frozen troll's corpse.
"Mr. Malfoy, what happened here and why are you not in your common room?!" McGonagall immediately seized the only available witness, and didn't fail to notice the clearly broken nose of the boy.
"I…" Draco simply didn't know what to say. He couldn't disgrace himself and admit he'd been bullied, that he'd hidden in the toilets instead of joining the feast, and that then his enemies from Gryffindor had saved his life.
Unfortunately for him, his godfather Severus Snape was a skilled Legilimens, and when Draco's helpless gaze fell on him, he saw the boy's thoughts, making his face twist slightly with displeasure.
"Don't pressure him, Minerva, the boy is clearly in shock," Dumbledore stepped forward, soothingly placing his hand on the deputy headmistress's shoulder. He then carefully examined the ice encapsulating the troll, the outer layer of which was already starting to melt and form puddles on the floor.
"In any case, I already have my suspicions about what happened, and all you need do, Mr. Malfoy, is confirm them," Dumbledore concluded, focusing on the Slytherin boy.
"All right," Malfoy finally replied, his pride having taken too many hits over the past two months.
"Excellent," Dumbledore nodded approvingly at the boy's agreement. "Now, let's begin with this rather remarkable ice spell. Frankly, I know only two students who, for reasons unknown to me, have become very fond of controlling ice. I believe I will not be mistaken if I say that this troll was defeated by the Black twins, correct?"
"Yes," Malfoy nodded.
"To defeat a troll directly—a creature with high resistance to magic—after just two months of study is truly impressive," McGonagall sighed.
"But that still does not explain why, after explicit instructions to return to your common rooms, they were here," Snape interjected, already sensing Gryffindor was about to receive points and intent on minimizing their achievement.
"This is a clear violation, for which there must be consequences. I think a deduction of twenty points from each of them would be appropriate," he added, figuring that even if Slytherin lost twenty points, Gryffindor would lose twice as many—a result Snape would gladly accept, especially since there would be an opportunity to recover any losses later.
"We must first clarify causes and consequences," Dumbledore said, giving Snape a warning look, as if to remind him not to overstep.
"Mr. Malfoy, if memory serves, I did not see you at tonight's feast," the headmaster addressed the Slytherin.
"Yes… I wasn't hungry," Malfoy confirmed, after a short pause adding a reason that wouldn't make him ashamed.
"I see. In that case, let me surmise what happened.
"Mr. and Miss Black noticed you were absent from the feast, and thus unaware of the danger. Perhaps through gossip they learned your whereabouts and came to your rescue, saving you, Mr. Malfoy, from the troll. Is that correct?"
…Hearing this, Malfoy immediately thought: "You obviously know everything, so why even ask?" Still, after a silent pause, he replied: "Yes."
"Very good, very good," Dumbledore said, stroking his beard and smiling. "As I think is obvious to everyone, there's nothing here that warrants punishment, so I award Gryffindor forty points for their display of bravery."
"Severus, I'll leave him to you," Dumbledore added, glancing at Malfoy's broken nose.
Snape, unhappy with how the matter had been resolved, limped slightly as he approached Malfoy, seized him firmly by the shoulder, and led him away to the hospital wing. Only after they had rounded the corner did he relax a bit, releasing his godson's shoulder. They walked in silence at a calmer pace until, after some time, Malfoy spoke:
"Godfather."
"What do you want?" Snape asked, clearly annoyed.
"Can you teach me combat magic?" Draco asked.
"Why?" the man asked, hardly concealing his surprise as he stopped and looked at his godson.
"I don't want to be weak anymore." After so many traumas, Draco's eyes seemed to burn with determination. He would never give them cause to look at him with the cold disdain they'd shown him that day.
"I'll discuss it with your parents."
"Thank you."