After a silence that lasted less than a second, Kane reached a realization.
Hermione shouldn't be here. Despite being a slow learner in his private lessons, she was brilliant; there was no way she'd stay here to beco a "Hermione-flavored atball" for a troll.
As for the troll itself, Hagrid could probably handle it. And the damage? Hogwarts was a vast estate with a massive budget.
Even if the "Lamp-post Ornants" (Board of Governors) were stingy about giving Muggle-borns extra gold for robes, they wouldn't make their students attend class in a condemned building.
Just as he was about to leave, the troll, which had been thrashing about inside the bathroom, seed to grow tired. It paused its rampage to catch its breath. In the sudden absence of chaotic noise, Kane heard an incredibly discordant, faint sound of sobbing.
Tsk. He hadn't underestimated Hermione's brain, but he had likely underestimated her legs. Seeing a troll burst through the door while she was hiding in a stall to shed "little pearls" was probably enough to paralyze even the most stout-hearted student. It was only natural she couldn't run.
He ducked back in and shouted toward the depths of the bathroom where Hermione was likely hiding. "Hermione? Can you get out on your own?"
As the troll caught a glimpse of Kane standing at the entrance, Hermione's voice rang out simultaneously: "I think there's a high probability I can't?"
"Maybe you should try the 'Hit Three, Move One' strategy," Kane quipped—a joke only he could understand—to lighten the mood. Then, he whipped out his wand and pointed it sharply at the troll.
The troll had already raised its massive wooden club, swinging it toward Kane. But when the club was less than half a ter from his head, it stopped dead, unable to move an inch further.
Thorny purple tentacles had manifested out of thin air, binding the troll's indistinct limbs and pulling it backward toward a bizarre, three-dinsional Swamp Cocoon.
However, thanks to the troll's abstract evolutionary path—where every single stat point had been dumped into physical strength—the swamp tentacles actually struggled to pull it in.
Kane clicked his tongue in annoyance. A mont later, the flickering ceiling lights caused the troll's shadow to sway.
The shadow suddenly lurched upward, dragging itself from the floor into a clumsy, 3D form. With a single, thunderous punch, it slamd the troll headfirst into the dinsional swamp.
"Ugh, my swamp and tentacles are all dirty now," Kane complained. He stepped around the cocoon and found Hermione in the furthest stall, curled into a ball and crying her eyes out.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk..." Kane shook his head, making a clicking sound. "Poor Hermione, scared into a string of little pearls by a troll."
Hermione didn't care about Kane's poorly tid trash talk. On the contrary, she was terrified and desperately needed soone to hold.
She steeled her heart, closed her eyes, let out a sob, and lunged forward into a hug... at least, that was the scene Harry, Ron, Dumbledore, and a massive group of professors witnessed when they burst in.
Hermione was hugging a shadow-clone version of herself, weeping uncontrollably, while the shadow-Hermione patted her hair with chanical tenderness—perhaps chanting so ancient soothing spell like "There, there, don't be scared."
anwhile, Kane was bent over, picking up chunks of purple at from the floor and stuffing them into his pockets.
This comical, eerie, and absurd sight forced every professor into a montary state of dazed confusion. Finally, Professor McGonagall was the first to find her voice.
"Mr. Heath! And Miss Granger, please stop hugging that... shadow thing Mr. Heath created. Can soone tell where the troll went, and are you two injured?"
Hearing McGonagall, Hermione froze. She couldn't believe her ears. She couldn't believe she was hugging... ???
What do you an, a shadow Kane created?
She snapped her eyes open and looked at the "Kane" she had been clutching for two full minutes. It was indeed a shadow. And looking at the silhouette... it was her own shadow?
In an instant, the shy Hermione "evolved." She hit Red-Line Temperature. Her entire face turned an unnatural shade of violet-red. The sheer awkwardness was paralyzing, especially with so many professors and students watching.
I'd rather have been clubbed to death by the troll. It would be less embarrassing.
McGonagall quickly cut through her internal crisis. "Answer , you two. Where did the troll go? There is a troll loose in the castle; every student is in unimaginable danger."
Kane pointed to the pieces of Monster at he hadn't finished picking up. "That's it right there."
The entire bathroom went silent. Except for Dumbledore, Snape, and Hermione, everyone looked at him with sheer disbelief and suspicion.
The forr two had total confidence in Kane's ability to cause (or solve) trouble, while the latter had actually glimpsed through the stall door how the troll had been finely diced into at chunks by the tentacles.
Seeing the distrust on the professors' faces, Hermione felt she had to testify for Kane. She took a deep breath and slowly raised her hand. It wasn't as brisk as her usual classroom hand-raise, but her voice was firm: "I can testify. Kane really did defeat the troll."
McGonagall's voice trembled with suppressed anger. To her, these two students were treating the safety of the entire school like a joke just to save face or act out.
Before she could explode, Dumbledore stepped forward with a smile. "Easy, Minerva. We should trust Mr. Heath. Though I understand your concern, we could simply have Mr. Heath demonstrate how he defeated the troll. What do you think?"
Without waiting for her consent, Dumbledore drew the Elder Wand and used Transfiguration to create a one-to-one replica of a troll—even the stench of a fernted corpse's bellybutton was replicated perfectly.
McGonagall imdiately drew her wand, ready to protect the students should the replica attack. She turned to Dumbledore with a mix of frustration and fury. "Albus, now is not the ti to be looking for talented—"
She stopped mid-sentence. She felt a surge of eerie energy that defied all magical logic. She turned back to see a grim, bizarre, grey-purple cocoon—looking like a child's crude drawing brought to life—appearing in the center of the ruined bathroom.
Thorny tentacles lashed out from the cocoon, seizing the replica troll's limbs. For a mont, the troll managed to resist, but then another phenonon challenged McGonagall's magical intuition.
The troll's own shadow struggled up from the floor, shifting from 2D to 3D, and delivered a crushing blow that knocked the creature squarely into the swamp cocoon.
"Just like that," Kane said, waving his wand to make the cocoon vanish. The shadow-troll dissolved into black smoke, leaving everyone in a state of profound, absolute silence.
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