Harry Potter: Returns Back From Game of Thrones (ASOIAF) - 44

Chapter 44: Pumpkin Knight

By the time class was nearly over, Ron's mood had reached rock bottom.

"No wonder everyone can't stand her," he told Harry as they pushed through the crowded corridor, though everyone instinctively made way for Harry as he passed.

"Honestly, she's a complete nightmare."

Someone bumped into Harry, then hurried past them in the opposite direction.

It was Hermione. Harry glimpsed her face—he was surprised to discover tears streaming down her cheeks.

Harry had thought Hermione would be emotionally stronger than this. Harry knew everyone's character deeply—Hermione was absolutely a person of tremendous resilience, possessing the rare determined ambition among young wizards to truly excel.

The word "ambition" was high praise in Harry's personal vocabulary.

It seems even the strongest people's defenses could shatter in an instant under persistent social pressure.

"I think she heard you."

"So what?" Ron said, though his expression showed a trace of genuine unease. "She must have noticed by now—she doesn't have a single friend besides us."

Hermione didn't appear for the next class and remained missing all afternoon.

Harry and Ron went downstairs toward the Great Hall for the Halloween Eve feast, inadvertently overhearing Parvati Patil tell her friend Lavender that Hermione was crying miserably in the girls' bathroom, refusing to let anyone comfort her.

Hearing this, Ron looked even more uncomfortable about his earlier harsh words. However, moments later when he walked into the Great Hall and saw the spectacular Halloween decorations, he immediately forgot about Hermione's distress.

A thousand live bats fluttered dramatically along walls and ceiling. Another thousand swooped like low black clouds above the dining tables, making the candle flames inside carved pumpkins flicker mysteriously.

Delicious dishes suddenly appeared on golden plates, exactly like at the opening feast.

"I'll go find her in the girls' bathroom. You keep eating," Harry said, patting Ron's shoulder firmly.

"Alright, apologize to her for me," Ron said, his mouth already stuffed with chicken. "I'll pack you some extra food."

"Good."

Harry also grabbed two packages of fish and chips from the serving tables.

One package as a snack for the road—hoping Ron would bring substantially more food later. The other package was for Hermione when he found her.

Right, today was Halloween, so Harry also took a huge pumpkin—probably magically grown by Hagrid, already carved into a traditional jack-o'-lantern shape. The outer layer was relatively hard, but the inside flesh tasted quite good when cooked.

All these supplies were stuffed into a large bundle, with the Sorting Hat nestled inside softly humming to itself, "Happy Halloween! ... Wait, Harry, what are you doing today? Stop—can't fit any more items in here!"

Just as Harry prepared to leave the Great Hall, Professor Quirrell suddenly rushed inside, his malice radiating so intensely that Harry's combat instincts flared. Quirrell's large purple turban sat askew on his head, his face displaying exaggerated terror.

Harry instantly realized the temporary quest he'd pondered all day was finally here—Quirrell was starting trouble at last!

These past two months, Harry's main dissatisfaction stemmed from Snape making him profoundly uncomfortable, while he'd treated Quirrell like a dangerous clown under observation.

Though Quirrell lacked proper undercover talent, he possessed great comedic ability when playing the frightened fool.

Sometimes, killing intent emanated from him in waves, making Harry intensely alert, but most times, only hesitant, unfocused malice leaked through.

Harry often sensed Quirrell contemplating cursing him but never following through.

Whenever this happened, Harry would grip his wand tightly, Lightbringer always prepared for instant deployment, but each time proved to be another false alarm.

After many repetitions, Harry maintained his vigilance anyway. He'd wondered whether to simply strike preemptively and subdue Quirrell decisively... Thinking of Voldemort hiding behind that turban, the true threat still lurking in the shadows, Harry could barely restrain his aggressive impulses.

Everyone stared at Quirrell as he stumbled dramatically to Professor Dumbledore's chair, leaning sideways against the High Table for support.

Harry again gripped his wand tightly, worried Quirrell might attempt ambushing Dumbledore from close range.

Even legendary warriors could be caught off guard by treachery—wizards possessed powerful magic but remained mortal flesh beneath. Dumbledore was also elderly now... Though Harry had already warned Dumbledore about Quirrell's suspicious nature, basic vigilance remained essential.

Quirrell pretended to be utterly terrified, gasping dramatically, "Troll—in the dungeons—thought you ought to know."

Having delivered this shocking announcement, he collapsed theatrically to the floor, feigning unconsciousness.

The Great Hall instantly erupted into chaos, with students screaming and scrambling.

Professor Dumbledore had to fire purple fireworks from his wand several times before everyone quieted enough to hear instructions.

"Prefects," he commanded in a carrying voice, "lead your Houses back to dormitories immediately!"

Percy naturally proved experienced and efficient at crisis management.

Harry felt his capability for managing students was genuinely good—the skills were there. His poor popularity stemmed from occasionally expressing his ambitions for advancement too obviously and desperately.

"Follow me! Stay together, first years! As long as you obey my instructions, you needn't fear any troll! Now, close behind me. Make way, first years coming through!" Percy shouted with authority.

"How could a troll possibly get inside Hogwarts?" students whispered urgently as they moved.

Some guessed Peeves had let it in as a prank to add chaotic fun to Halloween Eve festivities.

Harry naturally knew Quirrell had orchestrated this. He just wondered again about Hogwarts' supposedly comprehensive protective enchantments... Did professors possess such extensive authority to bypass them?

Possibly they did. Then, why was Quirrell doing this now specifically... Did he want to create chaos by facilitating some conspiracy?

Or perhaps he wanted to test Harry's combat capabilities directly...

Wait—Hermione is in the dungeons right now!

As far as Harry knew from his studies, trolls ranked as genuinely high-risk monsters in the magical world because, though this species possessed extremely low intelligence, they had remarkably strong inherent anti-magic resistance.

Someone like himself with overwhelming physical combat output naturally didn't fear trolls—it could even be said he countered them perfectly—but ordinary young wizards absolutely couldn't handle such creatures.

Whether coincidence or deliberate targeting, whether intentional testing or creating chaos that incidentally threatened Hermione—daring to endanger his people meant Quirrell already had a guaranteed path to death!

Taking a deep, centering breath, Harry fully opened the extraordinary sense of smell he normally kept suppressed, confirming Hermione's exact direction. His intuition and the system's attribute point event indicators both pointed in the same direction.

No mistake—the enemy was in the girls bathroom where Hermione was crying!

Harry, carrying the large bundle containing the Sorting Hat and supplies, charged toward that location without looking back, ignoring Percy's shouted orders.

Passing a corner at full sprint, Harry also glimpsed Snape moving through a parallel corridor.

Snape crossed that passageway quickly, disappearing from Harry's line of sight toward the upper floors.

What's he doing? Harry thought briefly. Why isn't he with the other teachers organizing the response? He has secrets... heading toward the fourth-floor staircase, toward that protected object... But he's very likely Dumbledore's completely loyal supporter—he shouldn't be the immediate concern.

Harry stopped thinking about Snape's suspicious movements, concentrating entirely on tracking Hermione's faint scent trail through the castle.

Which girls bathroom exactly, though? The overlapping smells made precision difficult.

At that moment, another absolutely foul stench invaded his nostrils—a nauseating combination mixing unwashed gym socks with never-cleaned public toilets left festering for months.

Hogwarts girls' bathrooms definitely weren't this disgustingly smelly under normal circumstances.

There should be magical servants maintaining cleanliness here. The boys' bathrooms were always quite clean anyway.

Analyzing the scent more carefully, Harry understood—this overwhelming stench wasn't entirely human waste but another creature's distinctive odor. He could also hear it now—the rumbling, thunderous heartbeat of something massive.

Giant creature—target acquired!

This target was considered extremely dangerous throughout the magical world. Harry immediately assumed the mental state from his first solo dragon duel on distant battlefields in [A Song of Ice and Fire].

He tore open his supply bundle, tucking his wand securely into his belt. The carved jack-o'-lantern pumpkin he placed casually on his head like an improvised helmet. The moment he donned that makeshift helm, familiar hot battle lust surged through his body's blood vessels.

This corridor was now the battlefield. This bathroom was the arena.

Within heartbeats, divine power flowed to the chosen warrior. The commanding king drew the legendary burning longsword directly from the Sorting Hat's hidden dimensional space, Gryffindor's blade igniting with supernatural fire in his grip.

Time to end this threat permanently.