The Strategic Rescue
Dumbledore's voice, amplified magically, had ordered every student back to their dormitories. Panic rippled through the Great Hall, but for Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, the fear was quickly replaced by guilt.
"She doesn't know!" Ron cried out, horrified. "Hermione—she's still in the girls' bathroom!"
Harry immediately grabbed Ron's arm. "We have to go back!"
Phoenix Hellflame, however, moved with cold, absolute efficiency. He grabbed the back of Harry's robes, his amethyst-purple eyes suddenly alight with calculated focus. This was the moment the alliance was forged; this was the moment to demonstrate indispensable value.
"Wait," Phoenix commanded, his voice a chilling whisper that cut through the noise. "You two are slow and entirely predictable. I know the layout of the castle and the exact location of every viable escape route. I am coming with you, but you will both follow my instructions precisely. This is not a heroic rescue; this is a tactical operation."
He did not wait for a reply. Moving with a speed and silence that defied his physical form, he led them toward the dungeons. As they neared the corridor where the troll had been reported, Phoenix stopped dead, sensing the slow, heavy movement of the beast.
"It is moving away from the dungeons, seeking the upper floors," Phoenix whispered. "It is heading directly toward the central corridor near the girls' bathroom. We will circle through the unused portrait hallway. We move now."
The Humiliation of a Troll
They found the troll inside the third-floor girls' bathroom. The beast was vast and hideous, its gray skin lumpy like a boulder and its tiny head perched on its shoulders. It had cornered Hermione, who was cowering and screaming near the sinks. The air smelled of damp concrete and the troll's foul stench.
Before Harry or Ron could even raise their wands, Phoenix stepped forward, his expression one of pure, aesthetic disgust. The black mask covering the lower half of his face somehow made his purple eyes look even more dangerous.
"Move, Weasley," Phoenix commanded sharply, pushing Ron aside just as the troll raised its enormous, club-like hand to smash the stalls.
Phoenix didn't utter a word or make a gesture. He didn't need a charm or a complicated incantation. He simply focused the raw, controlled power of his Dragon Heart Core. The effect was instantaneous and absolute.
The troll, mid-swing, suddenly stiffened as if encased in transparent rock. Its club froze in the air, mere inches from Hermione's head. Then, the immense magical pressure exerted by Phoenix's will began to take effect.
A profound, sickening crack echoed through the small bathroom. The troll's knees buckled, and it sank to the floor, not stunned, but physically crushed by an invisible, multi-ton force field applied only to its bones. Its stone-like skull was instantly flattened against the tile floor.
The troll wasn't knocked out; it was neutralized—every bone reduced to dust inside its own dense skin, its life force extinguished by overwhelming magical force, all without a visible spell or sound.
The resulting silence was broken only by the shuddering sobs of Hermione.
The Aftermath
Ron and Harry stared, slack-jawed, at the grotesque form on the floor. It was a perfect, contained display of power—no damage to the room, no lingering spell effect, just the sudden, catastrophic failure of a magical beast's internal structure.
Hermione scrambled out from under the sink and stared at Phoenix, her tears forgotten, her fear giving way to bewildered awe.
"It's... dead?" Ron whispered, his face white.
"It's irrelevant now," Phoenix corrected, his tone returning to his usual detached superiority. "We need to establish a narrative quickly, or you will lose Gryffindor a thousand points and likely be expelled for suicidal tendencies."
The door burst open, and Professor McGonagall rushed in, followed closely by Professor Snape and Professor Quirrell. McGonagall's eyes widened at the sight of the neutralized troll and the three first-years, now joined by a tear-stained Hermione.
Before any professor could speak, Hermione stepped forward, looking terrified but resolute. Phoenix gave her a subtle, fractional nod—a silent command.
"It was my fault, Professor," Hermione choked out, sticking precisely to the story Phoenix had instantly constructed in her mind. "I—I went looking for the troll. I thought I could defeat it because I read all the literature, but I was wrong. Ron and Harry came in, and they distracted it, and then... then Phoenix cast a highly advanced, non-verbal Body-Bind Curse on it. It must have hit its head when it fell."
McGonagall stared from Hermione's tearful face to the impossible sight of the neutralized troll. Then she looked at Phoenix, whose purple eyes met hers with utter serenity. He was entirely calm, his hands still clasped behind his back, the picture of an innocent prodigy.
Snape, however, narrowed his eyes at Phoenix, sensing the tremendous, dark power that had been briefly unleashed. He knew this was no simple Petrificus Totalus—this was raw, destructive power.
"I am skeptical, Miss Granger," Snaag snarled. "That troll is a Mountain Troll. To subdue it, even with a full Body-Bind, requires immense concentration. Mr. Hellflame is a first-year."
"His performance on the Sorting Hat, Severus, suggests he is not a typical first-year," McGonagall interjected, her loyalty to the truth conflicting with her profound sense of relief. She looked at the four students. "I am absolutely disgusted that the three of you put yourselves in such danger. Fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor for this recklessness."
She paused, then her gaze settled on Hermione. "But fifty points will be awarded to Gryffindor for Miss Granger's presence of mind, and... thirty points to Ravenclaw, Mr. Hellflame, for successfully deploying a high-level, non-verbal spell under duress, regardless of its appropriateness."
She ushered them out, her expression a mixture of profound exhaustion and reluctant admiration.
The Forged Trio
Walking back to the Gryffindor tower, Ron and Harry looked at Phoenix, then at Hermione, with a newfound, silent respect.
"Thanks, Hermione," Ron mumbled awkwardly.
Hermione, instead of criticizing Ron's language, simply gave him a small, quiet smile. The bond was forged, not through shared heroism, but through shared deceit and a terrifying, shared secret.
Phoenix, having achieved his goal, offered a final, strategic word.
"You now understand that collective action demands absolute trust," Phoenix stated, his mask of distant intellectualism firmly back in place. "From now on, I will provide the planning, and you three will execute the distractions. Your clumsiness, Potter, makes you excellent bait. Do not confuse your Gryffindor recklessness with actual tactical ability."
He gave them a curt nod and vanished down the corridor toward the Ravenclaw tower.
The trio watched him go. Ron rubbed his arm where Phoenix had pushed him. "He's terrifying, but..."
"He saved her life," Harry finished quietly.
Hermione looked down the corridor where Phoenix had disappeared. She didn't look terrified anymore; she looked intrigued. Phoenix Hellflame had just established himself as the most powerful, dangerous, and indispensable friend they had ever made.