Chapter 15: Halloween Night Terror

Since discovering the three-headed dog on the third floor, Harry’s life had grown peaceful. After being frightened by the dog, Ron seemed to lose interest in the secret for a while; after finishing the story of Paul Korchagin, he appeared unsatisfied and flipped through the book again and again.

Harry himself had not finished the book Professor Yu had left him, because it was a foreign tale, and he still had many mysteries of his own to unravel—he wasn’t particularly curious about others’ growth.

On the contrary, Ron felt that Harry Potter had pulled him out of what he’d thought was a dull, gray life; he longed to explore secrets, defeat evil, and save the world alongside Harry Potter rather than become a prefect, get a job, and live an ordinary life. He saw Harry as his Zhulai—Harry had made him realize for the first time that a great cause awaited him ahead.

Of course, Harry didn’t feel that way at all. He wished only to escape Voldemort’s shadow, study hard, become a prefect, find a job, and live a quiet life. Harry’s most frequent destination was the library—first because he liked working quietly, and second because he greatly enjoyed spending time with Zhang Qiu.

On a few occasions, Harry found Hermione sitting alone in the library, but even when Zhang Qiu wasn’t there, he always sat in his usual seat and never went to join Hermione—he thought Hermione was a boring bookworm, unlike Zhang Qiu, who had so many mysterious stories.

Until one day, while playing chess, Harry and Ron happened to mention that Neville wasn’t in the dormitory every night—he must be studying hard in the library. Ron even envied them, saying he fell asleep the moment he opened a textbook.

That’s when Harry realized something was odd—he hadn’t seen Neville in the library much lately. They speculated for a long time but couldn’t figure out why.

Then, on the afternoon of Halloween, after Charms class, Harry and Ron were laughing as they prepared to head to the courtyard to enjoy the good weather during Flying class, when they spotted Neville, Hermione, and another young witch talking in the corridor.

Harry recognized the girl—he remembered her as Hannah Abbott, one of the first students sorted during the Sorting Ceremony. He could even recall clearly that she was in Hufflepuff.

“You’re pronouncing it wrong,” they heard Hermione’s shrill voice say. “Stretch the second syllable—the ending tone should be flat, not falling.”

“If you’re so good, then you do it!” Hannah snapped.

Hermione demonstrated the Levitation Charm perfectly. Hannah, furious, shouted: “That’s it, that’s it—you’re just showing off how amazing you are!”

With that, she turned and ran off, head down. Neville whispered something to Hermione, then chased after her.

Coincidentally, Hannah was running straight toward Harry— as she passed, he noticed her eyes were red.

Neville caught up and whispered reassurance: “Don’t be upset—she didn’t mean it.”

“But she…” Hannah sobbed something Harry couldn’t catch.

“Because of this, she has no friends in class—it’s already pitiful enough,” Neville murmured.

“Did you hear that? Neville says she has no friends?” Ron asked curiously. “I always thought at least Neville was her friend.”

“Like Neville said, probably just pity,” Harry said offhandedly. “Same as a good student—Zhang Qiu far outshines her.”

“Pity…” A low female voice came from behind. Harry froze—Hermione stood motionless behind them, tears welling in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, I—” Before Harry could explain, she covered her face and ran off. Harry wanted to chase her, but Flying class was about to start—he didn’t want to be late.

When Flying class finally began, Harry noticed Hermione wasn’t there.

Throughout the Halloween feast that evening, neither of them saw Hermione. Harry grew worried and told Neville.

Neville looked guilty. “I know she was crying in the girls’ bathroom, but I didn’t feel comfortable going to her—I was afraid Hannah would misunderstand.”

“So what exactly happened between the three of you?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know,” Neville said. “I’ve just been doing homework with Hannah more often lately. Hermione got upset and said, ‘I was here first!’ I didn’t understand why.”

“Hmm, I’ve seen her alone in the library several times,” Harry said. “Were you and Hannah together then?”

“Yes,” Neville said, a faint smile on his face. “We found an abandoned classroom—quieter than the library. It’s practically our secret base.”

Okay, Harry thought, nothing strange about that—he’d loved doing the same thing as a child with Ivy in Tang Dun, finding abandoned rooms and turning them into their secret hideouts.

As food began appearing one by one on the long table, Harry set Hermione’s matter aside. Perhaps she’d cried herself out and would return. Perhaps she’d miss the whole feast—then he’d better save her some food.

Just as the children were feasting, Quirrell burst in, sprinting to Dumbledore’s table, gasping: “A troll… in the dungeons… I thought you knew!”

He collapsed instantly. His crooked turban fell off, revealing his bald scalp. Someone in the crowd shouted, “Bald!” Several students burst into laughter.

“Silence!” Dumbledore said. “The feast is canceled. Prefects, take your students back to their common rooms!”

Harry remembered Hermione. He quickly wrapped a few potato cakes in oil paper and followed the group toward the common room.

“Hey, Harry,” Neville tapped him a few steps outside the hall. “Could you help find Hermione? I’m worried, but I can’t leave.”

“Can’t leave?” Harry was confused.

“If I go, Hannah will be upset. It’s kind of embarrassing to explain—just help me out.” This was the first time Harry had ever heard Neville speak like this.

“Relax—it’s just a troll. Dumbledore will handle it soon,” Ron said dismissively.

“No, you must help. This is serious,” Zhang Qiu suddenly appeared before them. Harry noticed she’d just peeled a yellow paper from her forehead.

“Illusion Charm. Stick it on your forehead—it hides you for fifteen minutes.” She shoved two sheets into Ron’s hands. “Hermione’s in danger. Only you two can save her.”

“Fine, then you take her dinner,” Harry tried to hand the oil paper to Neville, but he refused—so Harry tucked it back into his robe. Then he began pressing the yellow paper with square characters onto his head.

Ron did the same. Harry was amazed—his body’s color shifted rapidly, then vanished entirely, making him look completely invisible.

In invisibility, the three held each other’s robe hems and crept silently into the dungeons. They found the troll pacing outside the girls’ bathroom—Harry nearly jumped.

“What do we do?” Ron asked urgently.

“Stay calm, Ron,” Harry’s mind raced. His gun was in his trunk, and none of them knew any powerful spells.

“Right—Spark Charm.” Harry flung a large spray of red sparks backward—they shot straight down the corridor. If any professors saw, all the better.

“Why not try the Levitation Charm? Divination says you defeated the troll with it,” Zhang Qiu said.

“Levitate the troll?” Ron muttered the Levitation Charm at the troll. It showed no effect—only stomped its foot.

“Forget divination—use whatever works,” Harry hurled a spark at the troll, successfully drawing its attention.

Zhang Qiu kept trying futilely to levitate the troll. Ron picked up a metal pipe and swung it. He trusted steel more than pathetic spells.

Seeing the troll’s rage turn toward Harry, Zhang Qiu finally abandoned her obsession with divination. As the only second-year present, she knew plenty of spells far more effective than sparks.

“Nine Heavens’ Dark Abyss, turn to divine thunder; Glorious Heavenly Might, summon it with the sword!”

After a rapid stream of Chinese incantation, Harry was delighted to see Zhang Qiu’s wand shoot a bolt of lightning—silver-white current jolted the troll, making it convulse violently.

After the lightning spell ended, the troll didn’t fall—it only grew angrier. It roared, raised its club, and charged.

“At least Hermione’s safe—run!” Seeing her last-resort spell failed, Zhang Qiu shouted and bolted. The troll lumbered after her, one heavy step at a time.

Ron remembered Paul Korchagin charging on the Muggle battlefield—and suddenly found courage. As the troll focused on Zhang Qiu, he leapt, landed on its back, and swung the metal pipe at its face.

The troll began thrashing wildly. The pipe flew out and struck Harry’s head. Ron lost his weapon and could only cling desperately to its neck, afraid of being thrown off. Harry pressed his bleeding head with his left hand and fired sparks from his right—hoping to hit the troll’s eye.

Zhang Qiu turned back and kept chanting Chinese—no matter what spell it was, it was painfully long. Harry feared Ron would be crushed by the troll’s club before she finished.

Just as the troll raised its club again, the three watched in astonishment—the club flew upward, flipped midair, and smashed into the troll’s own face. It rolled its eyes, staggered a few steps, then collapsed heavily to the ground.

Hermione stood at the girls’ bathroom door, clutching tightly the wand she’d just used to cast the Levitation Charm.