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Chapter Seventy-Eight: Defeating the Trolls?!!
All afternoon, Hermione didn't show up.
Darren asked around, but no one would tell him where she had gone.
He knew—according to the original book—that Hermione should be crying in the girls' bathroom right about now.
But here, he lacked the perspective of a reader.
Here, he had to rely on actual people, and unfortunately, his classmates were anything but helpful.
So he could only keep an eye out for Hermione while heading to the pre-Halloween feast.
The moment he stepped into the Great Hall, he froze in shock.
The entire auditorium was overflowing with vibrant decorations.
A thousand live bats fluttered along the walls and ceilings.
Another thousand floated above the tables like drifting storm clouds.
Carved pumpkins hovered overhead, glowing warmly with candlelight.
Golden plates filled themselves with food in an instant.
It was Darren's first magical Halloween in a foreign land, and the sheer spectacle was astonishing.
But he didn't linger.
He immediately grabbed food and started stuffing it into his mouth.
He remembered the original story: Quirrell would burst in any moment, shout about a troll, faint dramatically, and ruin the entire feast.
He needed to eat before that happened.
He absolutely refused to go to bed hungry—he was still a child, after all.
So he shoveled food down quickly.
"Potter, you're about to destroy every bit of Slytherin etiquette we have."
Kassandra shot him a disgusted look and tossed a napkin at him.
She honestly thought she was staring at a Gryffindor for a moment.
Darren wiped his mouth, cheeks burning, and muttered,
"Hermione still hasn't shown up. I'm going to look for her after this. It's late—what if something happens to her?"
"Looking for her? She's crying in the girls' bathroom in the basement. I passed her on the way here."
Kassandra clicked her tongue.
Truthfully, she had seen Hermione hours earlier and had known Darren was searching for her.
But she hadn't wanted to say anything.
What was there to look for?
A mudblood?
She still remembered seeing Darren sitting on the grass with Hermione before.
Indecent.
Embarrassing.
Ruining Slytherin's image!
Still… watching him fret so honestly, she eventually relented.
"Then I'm going now!" Darren said, pushing his plate away.
Kassandra grabbed him.
"Wait! The Hall is fascinating tonight—why go running after her now? She's not even in your House!"
She genuinely didn't understand this boy.
He wasted his kindness on half-bloods and pure-bloods alike…
But now he was even worrying over a m—
Over Hermione?
Darren didn't know half of what she was thinking.
He simply shook his head and said seriously,
"It's because the Hall is amazing that she should be here to see it. And earlier… Ron said something awful to her. I was standing next to him. That makes it partly my fault."
He stood up.
He had eaten enough to radiate his so-called "Holy Father" aura.
He was about to leave when—
"Troll! In the dungeons! Th-thought you should know!"
Quirrell staggered in and collapsed.
Darren froze.
He had just started to move toward him to help, but Madame Pomfrey beat him there instantly.
So he slipped away from the Slytherin table quietly.
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[Ding!] System Notification
Sensing a Holy Father scenario forming around the host, a temporary mission has been issued:
— Reach Hermione within two minutes.
— Calm her.
— Defeat the troll within one minute using your Obscurus ability.
Note: As the battle ends, pay attention to approaching footsteps.
As soon as you hear them, collapse and pretend to be exhausted.
Boy, don't overestimate yourself. Trust me—you'll thank me later.
You're about to face an angry old bat, and ordinary people can't handle his temper.
Reward after successful mission:
✔ Hermione's gratitude
Accept mission?
[Accept!]
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For the first time, Darren truly appreciated the system.
If it hadn't reminded him, he would've forgotten all about Snape's temper.
Snape had nearly exploded when Harry and Ron dealt with the troll in the original timeline.
If he found Darren fighting one?
Darren half expected to be expelled on the spot and tossed back into the Muggle world.
Relieved, he sprinted down toward the basement.
The stench hit him immediately—thick, foul, unmistakably troll.
A massive shape lumbered ahead, dragging an enormous club.
And he could hear faint sobbing.
Hermione.
Darren slipped past the troll's gaze and darted toward the sound.
When he finally saw Hermione, he nearly collapsed with relief.
Two minutes—success.
Merlin, he was going to die from the running alone.
Hermione looked up at the sound of footsteps.
Seeing Darren inside the girls' bathroom—while she was tear-stained and miserable—made her panic.
She almost screamed.
"Shh!"
Darren covered her mouth quickly, then gently but firmly pulled her into a cubicle.
Hermione stared at him, confused and embarrassed.
Why here?
Why in the stall?
"Troll," he whispered in her ear. "Right outside."
Hermione froze.
She peered through the gap in the stall—
A huge monster was approaching the sinks, club dragging loudly across the floor.
Darren saw it too.
His face went pale.
But he still whispered, voice trembling but determined,
"Don't be afraid. I'm strong. Stay here. I'll handle it."
Hermione stared at him as if he'd lost his mind.
"How can you possibly handle that!?" she hissed, tugging hard at his sleeve.
She felt she'd rather be crushed with him than let him walk into danger.
"Trust me."
He gently freed his sleeve from her grip… and ran straight toward the troll.
To Hermione, it felt like watching Superman
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