HP: The Third Child of Prophecy

Chapter 144: The Hidden Troll

The date is October 10th, the day before Halloween.

This morning's class is History of Magic. Professor Binns is discussing Hengist of Woodcroft, a historical figure from Hufflepuff House.

"The founder of the village of Hogsmeade," Binns drones. "He lived in what is now the Three Broomsticks before being driven out by Muggles. He then established the only all-wizarding village in Britain."

Ironically, over time, many of the village's residents ended up being from Slytherin House, and few of them had ever actually interacted with real Muggles.

To be fair, their distrust of Muggles isn't entirely baseless — ignorance breeds fear. But it's odd that families like the Blacks and Malfoys, who live near or even profit from Muggles, would be so openly hostile to them.

In the afternoon Charms class, Professor Flitwick finally announced, with no small excitement, that the class would begin practicing true levitation today.

"Up until now," he said, "you've learned Levioso and Locomotor. Together, these lay the groundwork for the Levitation Charm."

Professor Flitwick had promised they'd master the spell before October 10th. The students were excited — even Alexander Smith was intrigued. He'd seen the spell plenty, but this was still a milestone for first-years.

Hermione, always eager and focused, had been practicing for days. Unlike in Gryffindor, she blended into the Ravenclaw crowd — but Alexander could tell she still had the same perfectionist streak.

As if echoing the original timeline, Flitwick paired students up to practice. Harry was with Ron Weasley. Alexander, naturally, was partnered with Hermione.

"Remember the wrist movement!" Professor Flitwick called from his perch atop a stack of books. "One wave, one flick! Don't forget to enunciate — remember Baruffio! He said 'f' instead of 's' and ended up with a buffalo on his chest!"

The spell was trickier than it seemed. Most students struggled. Ron, in particular, was having a hard time, even though he flailed his arms like windmills and shouted at the top of his lungs:

"Wingardim Leviosa!"

Alexander winced. "Ron, calm down."

"You're Ron Weasley, master of wizard chess — this should be easy," Alexander teased, smiling.

"It's Wingardium Leviosa, you have to stretch the 'ar'," Hermione corrected with precision.

"I know, I know — I've just been too focused on Quidditch strategy for Harry lately," Ron said, brushing off the embarrassment.

Honestly, Ron wasn't bad at magic. He just lacked the patience for theory. But this time, perhaps driven by frustration, he gave it one more go.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

His feather rose gently, hovering four feet in the air.

"Oh, well done!" Flitwick beamed. "Everyone, look! Mr. Weasley has succeeded! Two points to Ravenclaw!"

Ron looked surprised but pleased. "Stop clapping, Harry," he muttered. "You did it ages ago."

"Flitwick's been too embarrassed to keep giving me points," Harry replied with a grin.

"If I were Flitwick, I'd give you extra points every day," Ron muttered.

Watching all of this unfold so differently from the original timeline made Alexander smile. There was something oddly enjoyable about these minor changes — these quiet divergences from fate.

But he knew Halloween was coming. The troll incident from the original story should've happened on October 31st. But Quirrell had moved early this time — October 10th. The thread of fate that connected Harry and the troll had been cut.

But Alexander didn't mind being the moon to someone else's sun. Helping others was a core part of who he was now — and besides, Ron still needed to be involved. So did Malfoy.

October 10th arrived.

Inside the Defense Against the Dark Arts office on the fourth floor — the same one that had once belonged to Quirrell — the room had been cleaned up and turned into a classroom.

Alexander appeared from thin air, eyes locked on an old, enchanted trunk in the corner.

It had seven locks — a reference to the number Voldemort considered most magical. Even his Horcruxes followed this pattern. This box was similar to the one Barty Crouch Jr. used to imprison Alastor Moody.

Opening the box required all seven keys.

Alexander summoned the keys instantly and began unlocking the compartments one by one.

The first held spellbooks.

The second, potion ingredients, quills, and a black magical cloak that dampened auras — likely the one Quirrell had used at Gringotts or in the Forbidden Forest.

The third to sixth locks revealed other oddities — magical trinkets, old artifacts, broken wands — remnants of Quirrell's dark activities.

Finally, Alexander turned the seventh key.

The lid creaked open.

Inside, curled up and snoring faintly, was a massive mountain troll — twelve feet tall, skin like granite, and a club lying beside it. The smell was horrible.

Alexander grinned.

"I found you."

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