Hogwarts: From Little Wizard to White Lord

"The troll has been killed!"

That night, the news swept through Hogwarts like wildfire.

By the next morning, even the students who usually loved to sleep in had scrambled out of bed without so much as washing their faces, hurrying to the courtyard in a half-dazed rush.

November had arrived at Hogwarts, and a thin layer of frost blanketed the ground.

Every step crunched against the ice, and the chill wind cut straight through to the bone.

But the cold did nothing to dampen everyone's excitement.

In the middle of the courtyard lay the frozen corpse of a headless troll, ringed by eager students. Filch had nailed up a sign in front of it, briefly recounting the events of the previous night.

"…Mr. Peter Weasley and Mr. Ron Weasley were each docked ten points for breaking school rules by leaving the Halloween feast midway. However, upon encountering the troll, both gentlemen acted with bravery, calmness, and presence of mind. In the end, Mr. Peter Weasley, with exceptional spellwork, killed the troll with the assistance of Mr. Ron Weasley. Therefore, Slytherin is awarded thirty points, and Gryffindor is awarded twenty points!"

Of course, such a stiff summary of punishments and rewards did little to satisfy the curiosity burning in the students' minds.

Fortunately, this was Halloween, and there were no classes. That meant plenty of time to dig for the full story.

The lively Gryffindors had already been preparing since the night before and now hosted a celebratory "breakfast" in their tower. The enthusiastic twins had even sent invitations to every house.

They greeted everyone they passed with triumphant grins.

"It was our brother who killed the troll!"

When students from the other houses arrived, Percy, the eldest Weasley brother, was waiting for them at the entrance, his prefect badge gleaming.

"Thank you for coming to my brothers' celebration," he said with a broad smile.

"Yes, yes, Peter and Ron are both outstanding just like me. We are the pride of the Weasley family."

The Gryffindor common room had been tidied with surprising efficiency. Long tables were pulled together, and the Hogwarts house-elves had outdone themselves with a feast of mouthwatering dishes.

One of the tables was surrounded by students clutching pies and rolls, listening intently as Ron Weasley one of the heroes of the previous night recounted the entire event in vivid detail.

"…it was at least twenty feet tall don't interrupt me, of course I know trolls are only twelve feet, that's just how it looked in the moment. I mean, when you see a creature that big, it's easy to misjudge…"

His face was flushed, his eyes bright with excitement.

"…And then just like this 'shattered to pieces!' Peter cast this crushing spell that blasted the troll's club apart, and it just exploded into fragments! Its hide, tough as a mountain, was torn to shreds, flying everywhere. The air was thick with ash, and the troll let out this horrible scream, 'Aaaah!'"

The younger students gasped in fright, but soon their fear melted into rapt attention as Ron continued.

Even some of the older students leaned in, intrigued, though the exact spellwork Ron described was… difficult to picture.

A younger boy finally asked in awe, "Ron, what spell did you use?"

"Obviously a very advanced one," Ron said smoothly, inventing on the spot, "The troll suddenly went blind," and then without missing a beat jumped back to Peter casting the Blasting Curse again.

In Ron's telling, the battle was apocalyptic the sky darkened, the sun and moon dimmed, and the giant's attacks were ferocious beyond belief. Peter fought desperately, and finally, with Ron's timely help, unleashed a "mighty spell" that reduced the monster to flying chunks of blood and gore.

And why was the troll's body in the courtyard now still so… intact?

Naturally, the professors had put it back together!

Ron's final proof? The missing head.

Because "Peter, in a burst of anger, blasted the troll's head to bits, and the pieces scattered so far they couldn't be put back together."

Harry and Hermione had spent the rest of the night huddled in a corner, and it wasn't until morning that they finally returned from a visit to Madam Pomfrey. She had handed Harry a large goblet of Calming Draught to ease any lingering effects from the terrible headache he had suffered the night before.

At first, Harry listened to Ron's retelling with genuine interest, but Hermione leaned over and muttered, "Ron's exaggerating."

Harry shook his head and lowered his voice so no one nearby could overhear.

"You saw last night how strong Peter and that dark wizard were with their spells."

"That's because Peter is powerful," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "But there's no way he could have killed the troll in the sort of tense, back-and-forth duel Ron's describing."

Harry finally caught on to what was happening and lost interest in the tale. He quietly munched on a piece of bread, absently touching his scar. After a long moment, he asked suddenly, "Hermione, tell me… why did Dumbledore ask us to keep what happened on the fourth floor a secret?"

He had been thinking about it all night, but no answer made sense.

The truth was, he had plenty of questions.

For example, who exactly was that man in the black robe? Why had Harry felt a sharp pain in his head just from seeing his back?

When Peter had overpowered him, who was that man calling "master"?

And why could Harry sense the thoughts of the man in the black robe?

He suspected some form of dark magic had been used on him.

But Madam Pomfrey had examined him thoroughly the night before and found no trace of any curse or hex.

Her conclusion was that he had simply been so frightened he'd started imagining things.

Harry wasn't sure he believed that.

Hermione put down the book she'd been reading, thought for a moment, and said, "Dumbledore must be worried that word will spread, so he wants to investigate in secret."

"Why?"

"It's obvious, Harry. If a dark wizard broke in, Dumbledore would want the professors to search the whole castle to keep the students safe… unless he suspected the dark wizard was actually a professor."

Harry's eyes widened in shock.

A professor? That man in the black robe…?

It wasn't a pleasant thought, but the more Harry considered it, the more it felt like the only explanation.

But which professor?

Names began flashing through his mind, and then one rose sharply to the front Snape.

He told Hermione, but she shook her head firmly. "Impossible."

"Hermione, you always think your teachers are saints. Snape's never been kind to you."

"But last night, Snape followed Dumbledore into the dungeons. How would he have ended up on the fourth floor?"

"When Professor McGonagall sent us to fetch Madam Pomfrey, she said the dungeons were complicated. They could have gotten separated. And Snape was the last one to arrive at the Headmaster's office."

"Anyway… it's still impossible!" Hermione said with finality.

Hermione picked up her book, hesitated for a moment, then said sharply,

"Do you remember the spell Peter cast yesterday? Divine Sharpness."

Of course Harry remembered. Peter had used it to pierce straight through the black-robed man's Shield Charm in a single strike. It had been incredible.

"I shouldn't be telling you this," Hermione went on, "but Peter told me Snape was the one who taught him that."

With that, she began stuffing her things into her schoolbag and turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked quickly.

"To check on Peter. One of you is busy bragging, the other is busy accusing a professor, and neither of you has even thought about seeing how he's doing!"

Feeling a stab of guilt, Harry snatched up a piece of bread and hurried after her.