The professors spent the entire night searching the castle, opening every door and investigating every hidden passage. They scoured every corner of Hogwarts, but no trace of the Troll was ever found.
With no Troll to be seen, Quirrell became the target of everyone’s frustration. Under the professors’ scrutinizing gazes, he cowered in a corner, muttering through choked sobs, “I... I might have made a mistake. You know... the underground classroom is very dark... maybe it was just armor... or a statue…”
“There is no Troll in the underground classroom,” Snape snapped coldly, his face twisted in displeasure. “And I don’t think any normal person would confuse armor with a Troll.”
“But... but I... no... I don’t…” Quirrell stammered, struggling to find the words. He truly didn’t know what had gone wrong. The Troll had been right there, and he’d let it go! How could a Troll, over ten feet tall, simply vanish without a trace or a sound? Was Hogwarts truly so dangerous?
“Perhaps you’ve been overthinking things lately, and your mind is playing tricks on you,” Snape said suddenly, a sinister edge to his tone. “I recommend a potion. How about tomorrow? I’ll bring it to you personally, and I guarantee you’ll feel 100% better.”
“No… Severus… no…” Quirrell shook his head furiously, stammering, “I—I have some potions myself... so I wouldn’t want to trouble you…”
The last thing Quirrell wanted was to drink something Snape handed him. Who knew if he’d add Veritaserum or some other sinister ingredient?
“It’s no trouble at all, just a refreshing potion,” Snape continued, not letting him off so easily. He seemed to relish the opportunity to be helpful.
“N-no... really...” Quirrell stammered, cold sweat breaking out as he looked at Snape’s unyielding expression. He worried Snape might actually try to force-feed him the potion.
Luckily, Professor Flitwick interrupted just in time, asking, “Minerva, what now?”
Quirrell took the opportunity like a pardon, shrinking back further behind the other professors. Professor McGonagall cast an irritated glance his way before replying, “Notify the prefects and have the students gather in the Great Hall. This farce has gone on long enough.”
Soon, the students gathered in the Great Hall, led by their respective heads of house. All the professors were waiting there—except for Snape. He had been bitten by Fluffy the previous night and had barely managed to keep going on a bit of Essence of Dittany before finally retreating to his office to recover.
At the front of the hall, Professor McGonagall announced that the Troll was no longer in the castle. The crisis was officially over.
The young wizards broke into cheers.
"I told you... there was no Troll," Ron said excitedly from the Gryffindor table. "Honestly, I have to deal with stuff at least twice a week, and you all doubted me!"
But everyone was too busy celebrating to notice him. Only Harry gave him a smile and a friendly clap on the shoulder. "I owe you an apology, mate."
Hermione heard them but didn’t correct them. Instead, she stood on tiptoe, trying to see over to the Hufflepuff table. She spotted Kyle, clapping along with the others, looking completely unfazed.
'Is he really the youngest winner of the Special Award for Services to the School?' Hermione found herself doubting again.
Kyle, however, had no idea what Hermione was thinking—and even if he did, he wouldn’t have cared, as long as she kept quiet.
In the days that followed, Kyle spent time each day inside his trunk, working to tame the Troll. Though the creature was dim-witted and clumsy, unable to perform magic, it was a formidable fighter. With its thick hide and brute strength, Kyle figured it would make an excellent front-line “meat shield.” Its lack of intelligence also made it easy to control.
For Kyle, the task was straightforward. Each time the Troll displayed any aggression, he would promptly deliver a few firm blows—not too hard, but enough to cause discomfort. Before leaving, he always rewarded it with some food.
Through a mix of discipline and treats, the Troll quickly became more compliant. Soon, whenever it saw Kyle, it no longer acted hostile but simply giggled in a simple, harmless way.
Within a few days, rumors spread, and soon everyone knew about Professor Quirrell’s blunder—that he’d been too scared to face the Troll and mistook its shadow for the real thing, turning the Halloween feast into a joke. Already unpopular, Professor Quirrell quickly became the laughingstock of the school. Students found it unbelievable that someone so timid could teach Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Fred and George seized the opportunity, launching a betting pool on when Professor Quirrell would leave Hogwarts and what might happen to him in the end. Initially just a lighthearted prank, it quickly gained traction. Students from every house were happy to spend a few Knuts or Sickles to join in the fun, and within days, the twins had raked in nearly a dozen Galleons.
This unexpected success went to the twins’ heads a bit, and one day, during a meal, they excitedly shared their triumph with Kyle.
“This is way faster than selling products!” Fred exclaimed, shaking his jingling coin pouch. “It’s like picking money off the ground!”
Kyle tilted his head. “How many people are in on it now?”
“One hundred and twenty-nine so far,” George said proudly. “From all four houses.”
Cedric’s eyes widened in disbelief. “That many? I thought it would be twenty or thirty at most.”
“Professor Quirrell’s quite the hot topic these days,” Fred said with a grin. “Anything about him is bound to get attention.”
Turning to Kyle, Fred added, “So, how about it? Want to join in?” He shook his coin pouch enticingly.
Cedric and Kanna shook their heads in unison, uninterested in the game. But Kyle gave a thoughtful rub to his chin.
“That does sound interesting,” he said. “What are the rules?”
“Simple!” Fred’s grin widened. “Two options: guess the time Professor Quirrell leaves Hogwarts and predict his ultimate fate. If you guess right, we’ll pay back double.”
“How about that—pretty generous, huh?”
Kyle nodded thoughtfully.
“So,” George prompted, “which one do you want to guess?”
“I’ll guess both,” Kyle replied, pulling out Galleons and slapping it on the table. “Here’s twenty Galleons. Do you dare take them?”