By the time Neil entered the castle, the fastest and most unrighteous students had already sent the news to the various offices, and the nervous teachers were rushing to the fourth floor from all directions. Especially for those who have been involved in the creation of the traps in the exclusion zone, it is self-evident what it means to have a riot there.

However, the bad news was only beginning, as reports of trolls were coming from all over the castle like snowflakes - the big ones appeared out of nowhere, as if they had grown out of thin air along with the mold under the carpet, and began to wreak havoc on everything they saw.

The Gryffindor dormitory on the eighth floor was under particularly fierce siege, and at least three heavily armed trolls appeared there, according to the Fat Lady herself, who screamed and escaped from the frame as soon as she saw them approaching, when she found Professor McGonagall - in order to find the Dean's news, she dragged the fat through many paintings along the way, and the drunken Orion wearing the Robin Hood hat on the sixth floor was almost suffocated in her frame.

This kind of trick is obvious, but as a professor, the protection of students must always be a priority, and in the absence of the principal, no one can know exactly how many monsters are messing around, and they can only deal with the enemies in front of them, while trying to gather the scattered students as much as possible, and guide them to gather and take refuge.

Brave seniors and reckless other students also spontaneously organized themselves to try to fight off the monsters with their wands in their hands. But the kids, armed with selfless courage, love for school, a sense of mission to protect their classmates, a narrow sense of personal heroism, and Standard Spells: Grades 1 to 7, soon discover that the trolls are not what they had known in class.

Ordinary trolls who are naked, stinky, with their little heads crooked and drooling at the corners of their mouths, and they are not very smart when they look at them, they are actually even less intelligent to deal with, their thick skin mixed with rock powder is somewhat resistant to magic, but it is not a serious threat in front of the regular tactics of the students, all of whom fire the stun spell in unison, regardless of the three-seven-twenty-one, and take out all the enemies and schoolmates who accidentally block the trajectory.

Their stubby legs make it difficult to take tall strides, and they are slow enough to fall quickly under the spell, giving fleeing students a stronger line of defense to get to more crowded places like classrooms or dormitories.

But the "elite soldiers" with studded soft armor like horse armor, Prussian-style peaked helmets, and wolf's fangs on their clubs, were not so easy to deal with—the dirty, stinky, and even tattered armor of the wearer was a magical object, with some kind of powerful protective charm applied to it, and the spells fired by the students had little effect on them. Deflected magic flies through the narrow hallway, blowing everything but the target the caster wants them to dissolve.

These guys were two-legged tanks that crushed most of the sporadic resistance, forcing the students who had managed to muster up the courage to fight for Hogwarts to abandon their resistance and return to the ranks of the fleeing in shame - in other words, of course, it prevented them from doing more stupid things at the instigation of their passion.

What's even more annoying is that trolls are not strictly social animals, they have no concept of "tribe" or "chief", and at most they live in family units, which gives rise to the only characteristic of them that is more "civilized" than humans - there are no class divisions. Even these guys, who were bigger, stronger, smellier, and dressed like the Chagatai guards in picture books, had no authority to command the other trolls, and would just mingle among them and rush forward with a shout. In other words, even if you try your best to defeat them, you won't be able to weaken the overall offensive.

Professor McGonagall's lips were pursed tightly, and she walked briskly up the stairs with a sturdy pace that did not look like an old man's, her nine-and-a-half-inch fir wand blazing like her eyes, and even Snape was there who would not want to quarrel with her in this state.

Dumbledore had a deep trust in her that was different from Snape's direction, and he would not hesitate to put it away

The latter's full picture of the Philosopher's Stone Guards was revealed to her, but he did not tell her that a man suspected of keeping Voldemort on the back of his head had infiltrated the school and was eyeing it with great eyesight - Mr. Headmaster called this a "fit fit", and in his opinion, not every person he trusted, was suitable for jobs that would get his hands dirty...... At least that's how Neil was slandered, because he felt that he might be the most dirty tool in Dumbledore's hands, about the same level as a must-have toilet bowl in a Muggle family.

McGonagall didn't know that one of her colleagues had fallen so deeply, but the presence of a creature like a troll was a wake-up call. Before he became the sneaky person he is now, Quirrell had often known himself for his ability to tame trolls, and he found satisfaction in dull creatures that humans couldn't give him - she didn't want to describe her colleague's character so badly, but perhaps since then, his inferiority complex has distorted his humanity a little.

In any case, McGonagall could not have imagined that the introverted, flattering, but self-respecting former Muggle Studies professor would be mad enough to do such a thing. Maybe it was the Philosopher's Stone that sparked the greed in him, or maybe the world that couldn't appreciate his talent had finally driven him crazy, but the reason didn't matter at this point. From the moment Quirrell took the student hostage to buy time for his evil plans, McGonagall had no intention of leaving him on all fours.

A lone troll appeared just behind the corner of the staircase, looking like it had just done a lot of wreath, its studded armor stained with colorful fluids and debris — thankfully none of them were human — and was now contentedly smashing at its navel, looking for the next target to smash. He saw an old lady coming towards him menacingly, her mouth full of yellow teeth opening a large slit, and squeezing out a low roar of joy from the depths of her throat.

In the next second, its perspective suddenly twisted backwards one hundred and eighty degrees, and before it could react to what was happening, the scene began to darken rapidly. The huge body swayed from side to side a few times, and then fell to the ground like a puppet with a broken string. A silent spell snapped its neck in the blink of an eye, and the protection of the thick leather and armor was useless.

Professor McGonagall, whose face was covered in frost, kicked the corpse, and the pointed helmet on the troll's head rolled to the side, revealing a yellow note taped to the inner lining, filled with ghostly writing. She raised an eyebrow, risking a fungal infection in her lungs, bent down to pick up the helmet, carefully tore the note inside, and tossed it aside to point her wand at it.

"Divided."

The spell deliberately curtailed its power, but the helmet was blown to pieces with a thud, and without the help of the note, it seemed to be just an ordinary, if not low-quality, layer of iron.

"Looks like you've learned something new, Professor Quirrell." She muttered to herself with a strong tone of sarcasm. The writhing unidentified words on the note seemed to be about to awaken a sleeping memory in her mind, but right now, on the eighth floor, there was an entire dormitory of students waiting for her rescue. The veins in McGonagall's forehead skipped slightly, leaving everything behind for the time being, including the life that had taken Quirrell's life, and single-mindedly climbed the stairs.

……

……

"What the hell is this?"

Looking at the chaotic scene in front of him, Neil, who was standing in front of the gate, couldn't help but be stunned.

This scene was not unfamiliar to him, and the picture when the monster tide hit was ten times more chaotic than this, but he couldn't figure out how these stupid big fat guys managed to get in under Dumbledore's "everything under control" attitude.

However, the situation did not allow him to think about it, and the two-headed troll in the foyer brandishing a stick and beating a screaming plaster statue spotted him, and his eyes the size of mung beans circled between the "grotesque-looking white stone" in front of him, which had been half smashed by them, and the little flesh man who had just appeared, as if comparing which one was more tactile to smash.

"Great, you're comparing me to a work of art on opposite ends of the same scale? I don't even know if I'm going to feel honored." Neil was not angry, he had heard that there were a handful of trolls who were smart enough to learn

Human language can even master simple magic, but it is clear that these two are not among them. They look at themselves with nothing but an endless thirst for violence...... Damn, I still have an appetite!

Neil's face sank suddenly, and he was not even in the mood to say a few witticisms to them. It took a lot of effort to distinguish between monsters and magical creatures defined by the Ministry of Magic, because in his opinion, things like Hidden Monsters, Chimera, Manticores, Sphinxes, and Fire Dragons (phew!) Such "magical creatures" are no different from monsters in terms of danger.

In the end, the compromise point that was finally reached was that anyone who would maliciously kill humans out of non-survival necessity would be treated as monsters.

…… In this way, the position of the centaurs on this blacklist is actually in jeopardy, but we'll talk about that later.

Wordlessly, Neil pulled the wooden sword from his sleeve and slowly raised it above his head, his left hand pinching it in front of his chest, his legs staggered and positioned. These trolls were no longer like Hagrid's pets, and he had to be careful not to kill them every time he tried to quiet them.

The two-headed troll also saw his movements, but instead of being vigilant, they hugged their stomachs and laughed. Instead of holding sticks, the meat man fights with a small wooden stick that can shoot thunder, but the little meat man's thunder is very weak, and the lone little meat man is not terrible at all.

As for the wooden sword, which was three times the length of an ordinary wand, it seemed to them that it could be classified as an error.

The troll giggled and pounced. They had been locked up for months in that cramped, stuffy room, so crowded that the fleshy men with fluffy heads were not allowed to fight, and they were almost suffocating to death. Trolls like to eat, trolls like to sleep, but trolls have to smash too! The little meat man is gone, but there is still one little meat man left, pinch him! Smash him!

Their extremely intelligible expressions made the corners of Neil's mouth twitch.

"The wind and clouds, the dragon, the sword, the sea......"

The troll, who had no armor on it and only had a dirty rag on its waist, was running slightly faster than its companion, and it saw what Neil whispered at the end, but the fleshy man's language was stinking and long, and mostly meaningless, it just needed to know that the sound of a funny voice was begging for mercy.

The little meat man's little stick was covered with a layer of silver light, but so what? The cavern was filled with glowing moss, and the smell was no different from ordinary ones. But after eating the glowing moss, the things that are pulled out are also shiny, and it is always interesting.

If you swallow the little meat man and his glowing little stick, maybe you can pull it out and shine as well?

"-Good, I hate sometimes that I can guess what these inferior creatures are thinking."

Neil dodged the big stick being slammed at him—mostly not wanting to be touched by the dirty mass—and swung a sword horizontally, the blade wrapped in silver light slicing through the front of the troll's abdomen, leaving a slender cut in it. The big belly stuffed with fat and organs burst open in an instant because it couldn't withstand the internal pressure, and colorful things flowed all over the ground. The troll screamed in a frightened voice, and subconsciously reached out to hula its bowels—their sluggish minds couldn't even produce pain in time like this, making it think that it would be all right if it shoved everything back that had leaked out.

But that's a good thing in a sense, because at least it died in a painless state.

The heavily armed second troll seemed to froze, and its bulky armor slowed its movements, indirectly saving its life. But the little meat man smashed the troll (chop?) Trolls don't understand what "chopping" means)? It has never been in a situation like this. The complexity of the problem was beyond the limits of what the gooseberry-sized brain could handle, and it stood there stupidly with its own spiked stick in both hands, not knowing what to do.

But there's no need to think about it.

Neil sprang back with a quick leap on tiptoe to keep the troll's blood from splattering onto his robes, then leaped over the still-stunned troll's head, slicing its head open with a sword along with his helmet.