Harry Potter: From Baldur's Gate to Hogwarts

After a brief scuffle, Hermione finally calmed down completely.

The girl followed behind Harry, the two chatting and laughing as they walked toward the Great Hall. However, just as they were about to reach the corridor's corner, Harry suddenly caught a faint, unpleasant odor. Instinctively, he glanced at Hermione's robes.

Hermione also noticed the strange smell. As she was about to ask Harry what was going on, she saw him eyeing her clothes with a complicated expression. Instantly, she blushed and angrily smacked him on the arm.

"What are you thinking? My robes are perfectly clean!"

"Really?" Harry raised an eyebrow, then shifted his gaze away. "If it's not you, then where is it coming from? And it's getting stronger…"

"Hmm… it smells kind of like…" Hermione paused, her brows furrowing. "Wait, Harry, do you hear something?"

Harry didn't reply. His attention was fixed on the end of the corridor, where a massive shadow was slowly emerging from the darkness. A low, guttural growl accompanied the heavy dragging sound of large feet scraping against the floor.

"Hermione, go back to the girls' bathroom and hide. Don't come out unless I tell you. Do you understand?"

"But what about you?" Hermione asked anxiously, glancing around in search of an escape route. Unfortunately, the only way back was into the bathroom behind them.

"Harry, why don't you come hide with me in the bathroom?" Hermione clung to Harry's arm, pleading.

"No. The bathroom is too cramped—bad for fighting!" Harry firmly shook off her hand. "Now! Get inside and hide immediately! If you wait any longer, I won't have time to protect you once things start."

Finally, Hermione heeded his words and found a stall to hide in inside the girls' bathroom.

Less than a minute after Hermione disappeared, a colossal figure emerged in the corridor where Harry stood.

The creature was twelve feet tall, with dull, granite-gray skin that looked as though it could match the texture of stone. Its massive, lumbering body resembled a clumsy sculpture molded from clay. In stark contrast to its huge frame, its head seemed absurdly small—so small that one might doubt whether it could fulfill the basic functions of a brain.

Its lower half consisted of two tree trunk-like legs and flat, calloused feet covered in rough, leathery skin.

The stench in the air grew stronger. Harry's eyes lingered briefly on the oversized wooden club cradled in the troll's disproportionately long arms. His lips curled into a faint smirk.

"A CR 2 Troll, huh?" Harry muttered as he quickly cast Blade Ward, False Life, and Mage Armor on himself. "A bit weak for someone like me, but… it'll be good practice!"

"Magic Missile!"

Harry formed a seal with his right hand, and three glowing force projectiles shot out, streaking across the ten-meter gap in an instant and slamming into the troll-like creature.

Its heavy footsteps faltered briefly. The small, beady eyes turned toward Harry, now filled with rage. Letting out a deafening roar, it charged forward.

"Magic Missile's damage is too low, huh? In that case…" Harry shifted his stance, gathering magic in his palm as frost began to coalesce.

"Ice Shard!"

A sharp shard of ice shot out from Harry's hand, striking the oncoming troll. The ice shattered on impact, creating a slippery patch of frost beneath its feet.

The troll roared again, but its foot slipped, sending its massive body crashing heavily to the ground.

"Effective?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "Then… Arcane Arrow!"

A crackling bolt of bluish energy streaked through the air, piercing the troll's struggling form. With a loud crackle, an arc of electricity jumped from Harry's hand to the troll's body.

A smile spread across Harry's face.

"Chromatic Orb – Acid!"

"Ice Shard!"

"Activate Arcane Arrow!"

"Chromatic Orb – Poison!"

"Ice Shard!"

"Activate Arcane Arrow!"

"Chromatic Orb – Thunder!"

"Ice Shard!"

"Activate Arcane Arrow!"

"Chromatic Orb – Acid!"

…

The troll continued to writhe on the ground, repeatedly trying to stand, but each spell struck with unrelenting force. Its roars of anger slowly turned to pained howls, and before long, even those faded. Eventually, its body stopped reacting entirely, lying motionless on the icy ground.

Finally, Harry fired one last Chromatic Orb infused with lightning, leaving a gaping, smoldering hole through the troll's chest. He ceased his barrage.

"Hermione, the enemy's dealt with. You can come out now," Harry called toward the bathroom.

Moments later, Hermione burst out of the bathroom and threw herself into Harry's arms, hugging him tightly.

"Harry, I'm so glad you're okay…" the young witch sobbed.

At that moment, hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor. Hearing the approaching sound, Hermione quickly let go of Harry. Only then did she notice the scene of destruction around them.

The first thing Hermione saw was ice—tons of it—covering half the corridor. The troll's enormous body lay facedown on the frozen ground, blood pooling around it, melting the surrounding ice.

Hermione gulped nervously. "Is it… dead?"

Before Harry could answer, Professor McGonagall appeared at the far end of the corridor, followed closely by a limping Snape and a pale-faced Quirrell.

Quirrell, clearly unsteady, took one look at the troll and collapsed to the ground, gasping for air.

"Professor McGonagall! Hurry and save Harry—he's…" A red-haired figure rushed into view, panting heavily. But when he saw the scene before him, he froze mid-sentence, utterly stunned.

Snape bent down to inspect the troll, while McGonagall waved her wand, instantly melting the ice that covered the corridor into water.

Stepping in front of Harry and Hermione, her lips pale and her face unusually stern, Professor McGonagall stared at the pair. The two young Gryffindors froze, staring back in shock. Neither had ever seen their professor so furious before.

"What on earth were you two playing at? Hmm?" Professor McGonagall asked coldly, her eyes fixed on them like daggers.

"You're lucky—extremely lucky—that you weren't smashed into a pulp by that troll that wandered in from the Forbidden Forest! Why weren't you staying quietly in your dormitory? Hmm?!"

"I'm sorry, Professor," Hermione mumbled, her head bowed, her voice filled with guilt.

"I heard about the troll, and I thought... I thought I could handle it—" (Harry turned his head toward Hermione, bewildered by her words.) "You know, I've read about trolls in books before, and I thought I knew enough about them…"

"Oh, really?" Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows, looking thoughtfully at the two students. "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you ever believe you could handle a mountain-sized troll on your own?"

Hermione lowered her head even further. Just as McGonagall was about to announce her punishment, Harry stepped forward.

"No, Professor, that's not what happened," Harry said firmly, lifting his head to meet her gaze, ignoring Hermione's attempts to tug at his robes to stop him.

"The truth is—" (fifty words omitted here) "—and then Professor Dumbledore stepped in and dealt with the troll."

"Mr. Potter, are you certain it was Professor Dumbledore who defeated the troll?" McGonagall asked, scrutinizing Harry through her glasses. Harry met her gaze, unflinching.

(Professor McGonagall: Mr. Potter, don't think I don't know the real story.)

(Harry: Dumbledore told me to keep it a secret. Want to take it up with the Headmaster?)

After staring at him for a long moment, McGonagall finally looked away. "If that's the case, Mr. Potter, then for your bravery in protecting your fellow students, Gryffindor will be awarded five points. Now, you may leave."

Reuniting with Ron, who had been waiting for them, the trio climbed the stairs in silence. Only when they reached the third floor did they finally escape the troll's awful stench.

"Ron," Harry began, glancing at his red-haired friend, whose face was a mix of hesitation and guilt, "I think you have something you want to say to Hermione, don't you?"

Hermione turned to Ron, her expression expectant.

"I—I'm sorry," Ron stammered, his head bowed as he nervously glanced at her face. "I shouldn't have been jealous of you... or treated you the way I did…"

"Your apology lacks sincerity, but—" Hermione smiled and extended her hand to him. "I accept."

Ron instinctively reached out and shook her hand.

"Now that we've shaken hands, we're officially friends!"

"As your friend, can I ask you for a favor?" Ron ventured hopefully.

Hermione waved a hand grandly. "Of course! What do you need?"

Ron's face lit up with joy, feeling that befriending Hermione was absolutely worth it.

"Well, uh… could you lend me your Defense Against the Dark Arts homework? It's due tomorrow, and I haven't—"

"Nope!" Hermione shook her head vigorously, like a rattle-drum. "Copying homework is a bad habit. You have to finish it on your own. It's for your own good."

Ron suddenly regretted becoming friends with her.

Hermione blinked, then changed her tone. "But I can tutor you."

Ron's face brightened again. Yes, befriending Hermione was definitely worth it.

The three of them continued chatting and laughing as they approached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Pig snout," Hermione said, and the portrait swung open, allowing the trio to enter.

The Gryffindor common room was buzzing with energy. In fact, it might have been the most lively it had been in years. Every Gryffindor, from first-years to seventh-years, was crammed into the not-so-large space.

Fred and George had somehow gotten their hands on a stash of Butterbeer, and students were eating, drinking, and dancing around excitedly. As a result, Harry, Ron, and Hermione's entrance went entirely unnoticed.

Ron, however, was eager to announce Harry's heroic feat. He stepped into the center of the room, cleared his throat, and opened his mouth—only for Harry to swiftly shove a chicken leg into it.

Struggling to pull the chicken leg out, Ron finally managed to do so. Just as he prepared to speak again, clapping his hands to gather everyone's attention, Hermione aggressively stuffed an entire loaf of bread into his mouth.

By the time the crowd had eaten, drunk, and partied to their hearts' content, exhaustion began to settle in. One by one, students left the common room and headed to their dormitories.

Lying on his bed, Harry toyed with the character card in his hand. On the card, his level had not only increased by one, but the experience bar had also gained a significant boost toward level two. Clearly, defeating the troll had earned him a substantial amount of experience points.

"450 experience points… That's quite a lot for a level-two challenge. Still, if the professors said it came from the Forbidden Forest, then maybe... No, my body is still too weak. I'll need at least another month and a half of proper training…" As these thoughts ran through his mind, sleep gradually overcame him. Harry closed his eyes.

When November arrived, the weather turned bitterly cold. Snow blanketed the mountains surrounding Hogwarts, and the distant scenery became a gray blur. The Black Lake, already icy, grew even colder. Each morning, the grass was frosted over.

Harry despised the frost—it left him damp and chilled during his daily morning training sessions.

Speaking of training, the number of participants had recently seen a historic increase.

Initially, Harry had been training alone every morning, practicing combat techniques (learned from Laezer), building his strength (also from Laezer), and meditating (this, however, was taught by Gael).

Then, one sleepless morning, Hermione wandered outside early and stumbled upon Harry, shirtless, sweat steaming off his body as he swung a staff.

And so, the number of trainees grew by one.

After that, Hermione felt it wasn't fair for Ron to sleep soundly in the dormitory while she and Harry trained outside. Thus, Ron was dragged into their morning routine.

(Ron: Thanks, Hermione. I owe you one. Really.)

Not long after, Ron decided it wasn't fair for just the three of them to train while their dormmates slacked off. As a result, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, and Neville Longbottom all reluctantly joined the group, wearing faces that screamed joy.

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