As Draco Malfoy slowly descended the Astronomy Tower, he felt cold and hungry, and his legs felt like lead.
He had spent too long with the Bloody Baron, pacing the tower in excitement, and now he was thoroughly worn out.
An eleven-year-old's body was a real nuisance. He could never judge it by the standards of a seventeen-year-old; he had to accept that its strength was limited.
Draco sighed. He meant to hurry back to the Great Hall, where the Halloween feast was being held, and quietly join the Slytherin table, laden with roast chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, steaks, roast beef, Yorkshire pudding and green apples, so that he could fill his stomach as soon as possible.
A sudden noise stopped him in his tracks. As he passed an empty side corridor on the second floor, he vaguely heard someone crying. The sobbing sounded mournful, and it seemed to come from the girls' bathroom.
Draco frowned. A mature Malfoy shouldn't meddle in other people's business, and he preferred to mind his own. Besides, it was clearly the girls' bathroom, and he didn't think he had any right to go in and help anyone.
But his feet wouldn't budge. The crying sent a wave of panic through his stomach, making him shudder as if the cold, ghostly body of the Bloody Baron had passed right through him.
A strange feeling washed over him: if he left now, he might regret it.
He couldn't understand his own behaviour. Perhaps it was because he had once cried in a bathroom in his past life, and the memory was not a pleasant one. And on top of that, he felt he had forgotten something tonight.
While he stood in the corridor, hesitating, a stench wafted from the left, followed by a low grumbling and the dull thud of huge feet dragging along the floor.
"Troll!" Draco's face turned pale, and he scratched at his platinum-blond hair in annoyance.
Merlin's beard, how could he have forgotten? He must have been too engrossed in talking to the ghosts!
He suddenly remembered that the Halloween feast of his first year had ended abruptly in his previous life, precisely because Quirrell had let the troll loose from the dungeons.
"Get out of here before the troll turns around," Draco told himself. But the crying from the bathroom hadn't stopped, and the mournful, anxious tone of it grew more and more unsettling.
Draco had never called himself a "saint"; that was Potter's job. Looking back on his life, he still had no interest in being a hero. He didn't have that kind of awareness. He just wanted to survive.
But now he couldn't sit idly by.
Judging by the tender, youthful voice, whoever was crying was young, clearly a child.
And the approaching giant was far too dangerous for a crying little girl.
In his previous life, Draco had witnessed too much suffering and death, and he was long tired of watching people get hurt or even killed. No one weeping their heart out in a bathroom should have to face anything worse than their own sorrow. Moaning Myrtle alone was enough for Hogwarts to handle. And certainly no one should be injured or killed for a reason as ridiculous as a troll.
He made up his mind, set his worries aside, and prepared to be called a "shameless scoundrel" or a "frivolous playboy." He pushed open the door and rushed into the girls' bathroom.
A small, familiar figure was standing in front of the mirror.
Damn it! How could it be her? Draco's heart started pounding wildly.
Hermione's eyes were red and swollen. She was about to turn on the tap to wash her face when she heard the noise and slowly turned around.
"How could you..." she said in surprise, her voice thick with congestion.
Without even asking why she was crying, Draco, who was usually so calm, lost his composure in front of another person for the first time in his life. He rushed forward, no longer caring about anything else, grabbed the astonished Hermione's hand, and ran outside.
"There's no time to explain. Come with me, now," he said hurriedly, dragging her along as she stumbled after him, and rushed out of the girls' bathroom.
"Wait—" Hermione cried as he pulled her through the door.
The boy who had barged into the girls' bathroom was inexplicably holding her hand and running. His hand was icy cold but surprisingly strong, and there was an impulsiveness and forcefulness in it unlike anything she had ever seen from him.
What was he trying to do? she wondered, confused.
The situation was becoming critical. In the candlelight flickering in an alcove, Draco spotted the troll's figure swaying in the corner.
Before it could turn around, he pulled the bewildered girl round the corner into the next corridor.
"Stop!" Not long after they turned the corner, Hermione shook off his hand, flustered and confused by his sudden intrusion and rough tug.
She choked back her tears and said angrily, "What... what are you doing? Why did you pull me out? And how could you go into the girls' bathroom?"
Hermione was seriously annoyed.
She couldn't believe that a boy would just walk into the girls' bathroom so casually. It was incredibly rude! And he hadn't even asked her before dragging her off like that. It was utterly disrespectful!
She was still angry about his repeated rule-breaking. She was still furious that he had pestered her with a feather while she was practising the Levitation Charm today.
What kind of trick was he playing now?
It was absolutely unforgivable!
Boys were all the same, never showing any respect, Hermione thought wearily. She turned to leave, deciding never to deal with these annoying boys again.
"Keep your voice down!" Draco quickly stopped Hermione, who was trying to go back toward the girls' bathroom, and covered her mouth with his hand. "Look for yourself!"
Hermione was already furious, and now he had covered her mouth without a word!
Worse, he had grabbed her shoulders from behind, which was extremely rude, presumptuous, even frivolous!
But when she came to her senses and turned her head, she found him looking solemn. His light grey eyes were clear and deep, and he didn't seem to have any bad intentions, or to be joking with her.
So she took stock of the situation, widened her eyes, and nodded slightly to show she wouldn't make a sound. Draco released her and gestured for her to join him, and they slowly peeked out from behind the wall toward the girls' bathroom door.
Under the moonlight, the twelve-foot-tall monster stretched out its foolish head and peered into the bathroom.
Everything about it was a perfect illustration of the word "disgusting." Its skin was as grey as granite, and its body was huge and clumsy, with a bald, coconut-like head, short legs like tree stumps, and flat, enormous feet...
Worst of all, it held a heavy, thick wooden club that it dragged along the floor, making the scene particularly terrifying.
Hermione involuntarily grabbed Draco's hand and began to tremble.
Draco glanced back at her. Her face was pale and her eyes were red, which made him uneasy.
Hermione Granger, that capricious, wilful girl, looked better when she was proud and smug. He gently squeezed her hand back, feeling how cold her small hand was.
The giant finally made its decision, with what must have been a sesame-seed-sized brain. It wiggled its long ears, grinned maliciously, and slowly crawled into the girls' bathroom.
Hermione's breathing stopped. She trembled uncontrollably in the cold air, like a dying candle in a niche.
"Oh my God..." she whispered.
She realised she had completely misjudged the boy beside her. If he hadn't pulled her out of the bathroom, the consequences would have been unimaginable.
Just imagine: she, defenceless and without even a wand, facing that dangerous, disgusting thing.
"Oh my God, Draco..." Hermione's face turned as pale as a Hogwarts ghost. "Thank you."
"Not angry anymore?" Draco pouted and made a face at her. Hermione was extremely embarrassed, and she gave him an awkward smile.
Then, to her surprise, she found that she could smile again. Just half an hour earlier, she had thought she would never smile again at Hogwarts.
But now, strangely enough, the sadness and gloom in her heart had been dispelled by the troll's fright and Draco's meddling.
A sense of relief, mixed with deep, lingering fear and a faint feeling of goodwill and joy, quietly spread through the dark corner of the corridor.
Draco noticed something else, too. Hermione's hands were colder than his own, even though he had spent the entire night wandering the Astronomy Tower.
And she was still trembling.
Her eyes were red, and in the moonlight her small face looked pale, like a rabbit trapped in snow and ice, unable to find its burrow.
Her smile looked more like a grimace. It did little to cheer her, and it didn't satisfy Draco's twisted sense of humour either; it only stirred the last of his pity.
A self-proclaimed upright Gryffindor? A brave and fearless Hermione Granger? No, she was just a careless little scatterbrain!
She would either get swallowed up by the stairs, freeze herself into an ice block, or be bold enough to become the giant's dinner!
Wasn't she supposed to be the smartest? Why could she always find dangers beyond the reach of ordinary people?
She was always alone, looking isolated and helpless. Who could ignore her? He was secretly annoyed, feeling as if some invisible chain were tightening around his heart.
Yet she looked at him timidly, holding his hand tightly as if afraid he would run away. It seemed he wasn't the ruthless Slytherin she despised, but someone she could trust. Her trusting gaze made his heart ache.
Draco had absolutely no idea what to do with her.
This little ice cube who so often made him furious looked so pitiful right now! he thought angrily, but he didn't let go of her hand.
They stood there holding hands, both icy cold, staring blankly at the girls' bathroom for a few seconds, until he had to ask himself how long two people with such cold hands could hold hands without warming up.
He sighed and released her. Her eyes were puzzled as he took an empty jam jar from his robe pocket, conjured a bright blue flame with his wand, placed it inside, and handed it to her. "Take this."
She seemed to like keeping warm this way, Draco thought, drawing on his memories of his past life.
Only then did Hermione realise she had been holding his hand the whole time. A little embarrassed, she cupped her hands around the warm jar, looked down at the strange blue flame, and whispered "thank you" again.
"Pleasure," he said, his smile finally relaxing a little.
Draco glanced toward the bathroom again. He wanted to get Hermione away from this dangerous place as soon as possible. A place where trolls roamed was hardly one of the top ten tourist destinations in the wizarding world.
Just then, he noticed two small figures edging sideways toward the open bathroom door. One of them jumped up, pulled the key out of the lock, slammed the door shut, and locked it securely.
If his eyes weren't deceiving him, those were Potter and Weasley. These two unremarkable little geniuses of the wizarding world had locked up the troll.
Bravo! If he hadn't been afraid of being discovered, he would have whistled at them.
Hermione, who was shielding the jar, saw it too. She nestled close to him, her tousled hair peeking out beside him, and whispered, "Why are they here too?"
Before Draco could answer, he was stunned to see Potter and Weasley, who had already run off, come dashing back down the corridor, dizzy and confused, and open the door to the girls' bathroom again.
Merlin, was tonight Halloween night, or Gryffindor's Night of Mischief?
Were all the reckless bastards in Gryffindor lining up to die?
Draco's face turned green.
The next moment, the two reckless fools rushed into the girls' bathroom, shouting, "Hermione! Are you in there?"
"My God!" Hermione gasped. She turned to look at him, the colour that had returned to her cheeks draining away again, her eyes filled with fear once more. "Draco, I think they've come for me! I have to save them!"
She was trembling as she tried to rush toward the bathroom, but he grabbed her wrist.
"How do you save them? Did you bring your wand? How do you plan to defeat the troll?" Draco frowned, asking three questions in a row.
For an unarmed first-year to confront a giant monster was utterly reckless, irrational, and extremely dangerous.
There was no surer way to die. She was doomed.
"I didn't bring my wand, and I don't know how to defeat a troll, but I can't just leave them there. They came back for me!" The little brat turned and yelled at him heatedly, tears welling in her eyes.
"Let me go! I'm going to find them!" Her eyes were reddening again, like a rabbit ready to bite, and her expression was extremely stubborn.
Merlin! Was there anyone more ungrateful than her? Draco felt a surge of anger.
But her tears... he couldn't bear to see Miss Know-It-All cry.
It was ugly. Not pretty at all.
"Fine, I'll go with you." Draco rolled his eyes, and before the words had even left his mouth, he wanted to slap himself.
Idiot! What are you doing? How did you end up joining the army of reckless fools? Draco cursed himself inwardly, but his feet wouldn't obey him as he followed the impulsive crybaby, Hermione Granger, toward the girls' bathroom.
"Run, Ron, run!" As they approached the door, they could already hear Potter shouting from inside.
When they went in, the unexpected, hair-raising scene terrified Draco, as if he had been stung by a Billywig and his soul had gone flying out of his body.
Weasley's small frame was pressed tightly against the wall, wand in hand, trembling in terror. Potter, on the other hand, was riding bravely and foolishly on the troll, clinging to its ugly neck.
Potter's wand had ended up in the most unexpected place: it looked like a sticky twig, jammed up the troll's nostril.
A wizard abandoning his wand to fight hand-to-hand? Draco was stunned.
What made Potter think he could fight a monster head-on?
Draco had lived two lives and had never seen such brainless behaviour!
Was this the intelligence of the boy who would defeat the Dark Lord? Merlin must be blind. Draco's pupils dilated in shock, and he groaned inwardly.
At that moment the troll roared in pain, waving its wooden club and twisting wildly. It looked as if it might shake off the tiny pest on its neck at any moment and deal it a fatal blow, or else swing the club at Ron, who stood not far away.
"Please save them, Draco, please," Hermione pleaded, tugging anxiously at his sleeve.
She hated herself for not carrying her wand. It was her biggest mistake of the day. All she could do was plead with him; for some reason, she felt Draco would have a way.
In truth, even with seven extra years of study behind him, Draco had no confidence in facing a troll head-on.
But the situation was already critical. The troll heard the noise at the door and turned around in confusion, and danger was about to fall on him and the girl beside him.
"Immobulus!" In a flash, Draco cast the first spell that came to mind.
It was the Freezing Charm that Hermione had used on the Cornish pixies in her Defence Against the Dark Arts class in her previous life.
Fortunately, it worked, and the astonished giant was frozen in place for a moment.
"Brilliant!" Weasley's exclamation came from across the room.
"Get out of here!" Draco's eyes were grave, with no sign of relief, and he shouted at them sharply. He kept his wand pointed at the troll in case the creature suddenly regained its senses and attacked.
It was only by chance that he had managed to freeze it! Trolls were thick-skinned and highly resistant to magic, and wizards had always been wary of them. He didn't know how long his spell would last.
At his shout, Potter quickly pulled his disgusting wand out of the troll's nostril, wiped the sticky substance off it, and scrambled down. Weasley and Hermione, who had come to their senses, hurried to help him so that he wouldn't slip and fall.
The troll twitched its eyelids, seemingly about to wake. Faint voices drifted from the other end of the corridor. Perhaps the professors had found their way here.
This was bad.
If the professors discovered several arrogant first-years facing a troll instead of obediently returning to their dormitories, demerits and punishment were a foregone conclusion.
Draco had no wish to cost Slytherin any needless points.
"Quick! Hide! Don't let anyone find us!" Draco called to them hurriedly, and they hid in a nearby classroom.
They hadn't been inside long when they heard loud footsteps and Professor McGonagall's exclamation: "Oh, Severus, it's here!" The troll seemed to have fully woken, and it began to roar again.
Meanwhile, the four first-years huddled behind the classroom door. They pressed their ears against it, trying to catch any sound from outside, barely daring to breathe for fear of being discovered by the professors.
Judging by the sounds, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape seemed to have cast several spells together. Then the troll crashed to the ground with a dull thud.
After a while, Professor Quirrell's voice came through. He stammered that he could take charge from there.
Time passed slowly, and silence did not return outside until the first-years were sitting on the floor behind the door, yawning incessantly.
Hermione was still holding the jar.
She was leaning wearily against the door, dozing off. Gradually her head slid down the door, and Draco caught it with lightning speed and settled it on his shoulder.
She was completely unaware of it. Only the blue flame saw all this, dancing gently, tirelessly, in the jar in her hand.
Potter and Weasley, at the other end, were expressionless and paid no attention to the scene. They leaned their heads together, panting heavily, still caught up in the terror of facing the troll.
After a while they came to their senses, exchanged glances, whispered a few words, and finally spoke up tentatively. "Thank you," they said softly.
Draco, still listening intently to the sounds outside, whispered to them, "Never be so reckless again. Not every time will someone come to your rescue."
These two idiots, trying to stop a runaway cart with their bare hands, were incredibly lucky not to have been torn to pieces or crushed into mincemeat by the giant.
"Also, a wand is a wizard's life, so you must cherish it," Draco said seriously, noticing Potter and Weasley nodding quietly.
Just then, his shoulder felt lighter. Hermione had suddenly woken up. She looked up, rubbing her eyes sleepily with the back of her hand; they were still a little swollen.
He turned his head and smiled at her without thinking, and she smiled back at him with hazy eyes. Then he looked at Potter again, his face regaining its solemnity. "You must carry your wand with you at all times. It is for casting spells, not for fighting hand-to-hand. If it breaks, it can never be put back together."
Potter looked a little embarrassed, as if he had only just remembered that wands could be broken.
Draco couldn't help worrying. Potter's attitude toward wands was far too frivolous; he seemed to have no idea what a wand meant to the wizard it chose.
A wand was unique in the world.
However, Draco could touch on the subject only briefly. He couldn't lecture Potter and the others too much. After all, they were just eleven-year-old children. What profound principles could he expect them to understand?
Look at that, what goes around comes around! Now it wasn't him being irresponsible, it was Potter and the others. Draco sighed, feeling he had been too concerned about them, when he himself was already embroiled in a mountain of trouble and barely able to take care of himself.
He straightened his face and instructed them, "By the way, I hope you can keep this a secret. Don't tell anyone that I saved you, or that I was ever here. That would be the greatest thanks you could give me."
He didn't want anyone to notice his wanderings. As for his secret investigation into the Dark Lord, surfacing prematurely, before he understood the situation, would only bring disaster. Remaining underwater was safer.
Potter and Weasley exchanged puzzled glances, unsure of his intentions. But in the end, grateful to their rescuer, they nodded in agreement.
After this incident, Harry, Ron and Hermione became true friends.
They were brave, loyal Gryffindors, willing to face terrifying things for one another, even at the risk of their lives. How could anyone say there was no friendship between them?
They also gained a new understanding of Draco. He might be a Slytherin, but it was impossible not to feel something for him after going through something like this together, and after he had even saved their lives.
That was what it meant to face a twelve-foot-tall monster together.