The next evening, Harry sits at one end of the Slytherin Table, eating dinner and considering the events of the night before. Things with Aurora were off to a roaring start as far as he was concerned. He hadn't yet claimed her properly via the ritual, but that was only a matter of time… literally.
He couldn't just fuck a woman and immediately connect his magic to hers. He needed time and multiple 'sessions' in order to properly feel her out first.
Once he knew her like the back of his hand, once he knew her magic as though it was own… only then could he take it and MAKE it his own via the ritual. Of course, the ritual also required complete and total submission from the witch participating in it. Aurora Sinistra wasn't quite there yet. She might have thought she was there, but she didn't fully understand just yet what it meant to submit to him. Once she did… and once she inevitably gave in all the same, then and only then would Harry connect their magic. Until then… he just needed to decide what his next step was going to be.
His gaze drifted to the staff table where Sinistra sat stiff-backed, her goblet trembling imperceptibly as she avoided his stare. Good. Let dread sweeten her anticipation.
Chaos erupted as Quirrell stumbled through the doors. Harry noted the man's exaggerated stagger—the too-perfect timing of his collapse.
"T-T-TROLL!" he shrieked. "IN THE DUNGEONS!"
The room went dead silent.
Quirrell swayed dramatically before collapsing, hitting the floor with an exaggerated thud.
The silence shattered into chaos.
Students screamed, some jumping to their feet in terror. Others instinctively pressed against each other, looking wildly around as if a troll might materialize right then and there.
At the teacher's table, Dumbledore rose, his sharp voice cutting through the panic.
"Prefects, lead your houses to their dormitories immediately!"
The teachers moved swiftly, trying to maintain order.
Harry, however, remained calm, his gaze flickering around the hall in quiet assessment. Where was the troll? If it was in the dungeons, Slytherin dorms should have been its first target. Yet, the wards hadn't activated.
Something didn't add up.
Then Hermione grabbed his sleeve.
"Harry," she whispered urgently. "Where's Lavender?"
Harry stilled.
Lavender Brown.
A Gryffindor girl, known for her dreamy personality and love of gossip. He hadn't interacted with her much beyond brief classroom encounters.
And yet, his mind raced back to the original timeline. In first year, Hermione had been the one cornered by the troll in the girl's bathroom. But with her sitting safely beside him…
Harry sighed.
Of course. In another life, Granger would've been the damsel. Now?
"I'll find her," he murmured.
Without another word, he slipped away from the Slytherin table, vanishing into the shadows.
---
The corridor was eerily silent, save for the distant echoes of fleeing students and frantic prefects shouting orders. The dim torchlight flickered against the damp stone walls, casting long, shifting shadows.
And then—
A scream.
Harry's feet moved before he had fully processed it. Rounding the corner, he came to an abrupt stop.
There she was.
Lavender stood frozen, back pressed against the cold stone wall of an abandoned corridor. Her face was pale, her breathing shallow.
And towering over her was the troll.
The creature was grotesque—easily over twelve feet tall, its grayish skin covered in warty lumps. A dull, unintelligent gaze settled on its prey. Drool dripped from its misshapen mouth as it raised its massive wooden club.
Lavender let out a strangled sob, unable to move.
The club swung downward.
CRASH!
A blast of air erupted between them as Harry's wand flicked forward.
"Depulso!"
The Banishing Charm struck the troll square in the chest. It staggered backward with a grunt, its attack interrupted. But Harry had deliberately held back—he didn't want to end the fight too soon.
Not yet.
Lavender gasped, her head snapping toward him.
"Harry!" she breathed, her voice trembling.
The troll bellowed, its tiny brain processing the new threat. With a furious roar, it charged.
Perfect.
---
Harry sidestepped lazily as the club came crashing down. The stone floor cracked under the sheer force, but he remained unharmed, effortlessly weaving out of the way.
To Lavender, it looked as if he was toying with death itself.
The troll swung again, but Harry's body moved fluidly, dodging with unnatural ease. A flick of his wrist sent a sharp Diffindo slashing across its thick hide, but the creature barely registered the cut.
The troll roared in frustration, lifting its club for a more devastating strike. This time, Harry stepped forward—right into its guard.
Lavender's heart lurched.
Was he insane?!
The club came down, but instead of dodging, Harry caught it.
His fingers wrapped around the rough wood, stopping the attack dead in its tracks.
Then, with a casual push, Harry wrenched the weapon from the troll's grasp and tossed it aside like a useless toy.
The troll blinked.
Lavender's mouth fell open.
Harry grinned, eyes twinkling with amusement.
The troll let out a confused grunt. Then, fueled by rage, it swung its massive arm at him.
Bad move.
Harry caught the arm mid-swing, gripping its wrist in an iron hold.
The troll struggled.
It couldn't break free.
Harry chuckled. "Take a nap, big guy."
Then, with inhuman strength, he lifted the twelve-foot-tall creature off the ground and slammed it down onto the stone floor.
The impact sent a thunderous shockwave through the corridor. The floor cracked. Dust and debris scattered. The troll groaned weakly, dazed.
Lavender trembled.
This wasn't normal.
No first-year should be capable of such things.
But Harry—Harry had just treated a mountain troll like a mere inconvenience.
She watched in stunned silence as he approached the fallen beast. The troll weakly tried to rise.
Harry sighed. "Alright, back to sleep."
With a flick of his wrist, he summoned the club back to his hand—without a wand.
Lavender sucked in a sharp breath.
Hefting the club easily, Harry twirled it once in his hand before slamming it down onto the troll's head.
CRACK!
The monster let out a final, pitiful grunt before collapsing into unconsciousness.
---
The silence that followed was deafening.
Harry turned, his emerald eyes locking onto Lavender's.
She was still staring at him, her face pale, her breathing uneven.
"Are you alright?" he asked casually.
Lavender opened her mouth, then closed it again. She nodded, but her hands trembled at her sides.
"I…" she swallowed. "You… how…?"
Harry smirked but didn't answer. Instead, he reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"Next time, try not to get cornered by a troll, yeah?"
Lavender felt her knees go weak.
Harry Potter wasn't just a hero.
He was something more.
And she had just witnessed something terrifyingly beautiful.
The Professors Arrive
The pounding of hurried footsteps filled the corridor, followed by the commanding voices of the professors.
McGonagall was the first to arrive, her wand at the ready, followed closely by Snape and Quirrell.
Her eyes widened at the sight before her—Lavender trembling against the wall, a dead troll sprawled across the floor, and Harry Potter standing casually beside it, completely unscathed.
"What in Merlin's name—?!" she gasped.
Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously as he studied the scene, his sharp gaze flickering between Harry and the troll's corpse.
Quirrell, still panting, staggered forward, barely able to form words. "T-t-this… how…?"
McGonagall's shock quickly transformed into fury.
"Mr. Potter!" she snapped. "What in Merlin's name were you thinking?! You could have been killed!"
Harry simply shrugged. "She was in danger. I did what needed to be done."
McGonagall's lips thinned. She looked at Lavender, whose terrified expression softened as she gazed at Harry with open admiration.
Snape finally spoke.
"A first-year… defeated a fully grown mountain troll?" His black eyes bore into Harry's with suspicion. "How… extraordinary."
Harry held his gaze, unbothered. "Guess I got lucky."
Snape didn't believe him. But he also had no proof of anything.
McGonagall exhaled sharply before turning to Lavender. "Come, Miss Brown. Madam Pomfrey will see to you."
As Lavender followed her, she glanced back at Harry, her eyes filled with something new.
Awe. Admiration. And something far more dangerous—devotion.
Harry smirked slightly.
How… amusing.
Once Lavender was gone, McGonagall turned back to Harry, her expression unreadable.
"Detention, Mr. Potter," she declared firmly. "One night in the Forbidden Forest. With Hagrid."
Harry merely nodded. He had expected this.
Hermione, who had arrived just in time to hear the punishment, quickly stepped forward.
"It was my fault, Professor!" she blurted. "I… I asked him to go find her. I thought it might be too late if we waited for a prefect."
McGonagall's gaze softened slightly, though her expression remained stern.
"While your intentions were noble, Miss Granger, I cannot allow reckless behavior like this."
Snape, still watching Harry closely, sneered. "Perhaps you ought to consider that before you go playing hero, Potter."
Harry just smirked at him.
Quirrell, meanwhile, still looked shaken. His eyes darted to the dead troll, then to Harry. His lips moved, as if he wanted to say something—then he shut his mouth.
Harry could almost feel the presence lurking beneath that turban.
Voldemort had just witnessed the entire thing.
Okay its time to go volde
McGonagall sighed. "Mr. Potter, go back to your dormitory. And next time, leave the trolls to the professors."
"Of course, Professor," Harry said smoothly, before turning on his heel and strolling away.
Hermione caught up to him as they walked. "Harry, what really happened back there?" she whispered.
He just smiled.
"Nothing you need to worry about."
Hermione frowned, but said nothing..