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Archer's guess had been correct.
Sure enough, halfway through the feast, Professor Quirrell burst into the Great Hall, shouting in terror, "Troll! In the dungeons!"
Then, as if the panic had drained him, he collapsed onto the cold stone floor.
The dining hall immediately erupted into chaos. Students stood up in alarm, voices rising in frightened chatter.
"Silence!" Headmaster Dumbledore rose to his feet, raised his wand to his throat, and repeated loudly, "Silence!"
The students gradually quieted down.
Professor Flitwick, seated beside Archer, paused for a moment. He sighed and muttered, "I take back what I said earlier. Maybe Quirrell isn't as stable as I thought… A Hogwarts professor fainting in fear of a troll... it's quite embarrassing."
At that moment, Archer's eyes flicked toward the head table and noticed Professor Snape quietly slipping out of the Great Hall.
"Prefects," Dumbledore commanded, "lead the students back to their dormitories."
The students moved at once.
While a troll wasn't too terrifying—let alone for the professors, even some of the older students could manage it—the younger students' safety came first. Having them return to their dorms was the right decision.
In the midst of the commotion, Archer scanned the Gryffindor table, looking for Hermione.
After all, this was the point in the original storyline where Harry and Ron rescue Hermione in the bathroom, forming their famous trio. If things were on track, she should be in the dungeons right now.
Sure enough, she wasn't at the table. Everything seemed to be unfolding as expected.
Once the students had all filed out, Dumbledore addressed the professors. "All professors, head to the dungeons and locate the troll."
The staff wasted no time. Archer also stood up and followed the others.
As they reached the stairwell leading to the dungeons, Professor McGonagall proposed, "Let's split up—it'll be faster. And if possible, ask the portraits; some of them may have seen where the troll went."
Dumbledore nodded. "Good idea."
Then, as though recalling something, he turned to Archer. "Professor Archer, please return to the Great Hall and attend to Professor Quirrell. We can't leave him lying alone on the cold floor."
Archer nodded. "Of course, Professor Dumbledore. I'll see to him."
He wasn't particularly worried about Harry and the others—not with Dumbledore around. So he didn't mind obeying the request.
But when he returned to the Great Hall, Quirrell was already gone.
Archer sighed.
Quirrell must have slipped away to the forbidden third-floor corridor. This entire panic was orchestrated to distract the professors so he could attempt to steal the Philosopher's Stone.
Without hesitation, Archer turned toward the fourth floor. He had no intention of letting Quirrell act unmonitored.
The corridor was dim and silent. Magical torches flickered along the stone walls, casting faint glows. Archer's footsteps echoed softly as he rushed forward.
He neared the entrance to the forbidden area—only to hear footsteps behind him.
He froze.
In a single motion, he cast a Disillusionment Charm and hid behind a nearby suit of armor.
From the darkness, a tall figure emerged. The black robe flowed like smoke behind him, casting long shadows across the corridor.
It was Professor Snape.
Archer's eyes narrowed.
So Snape was here too. Was he also after Quirrell?
Snape's expression was as grim as ever. His eyes scanned the corridor with predatory precision, wand already in hand—ready to attack at a moment's notice.
When he approached the armor where Archer hid, he stopped abruptly.
"Come out," he said coldly, "you rat."
So much for stealth.
Archer sighed and canceled the Disillusionment Charm, stepping forward calmly with wand in hand but pointed down.
"It's me, Professor Snape."
A flicker of surprise passed over Snape's face, quickly replaced with cold indifference. "Ah. Professor Archer. What, may I ask, are you doing here?"
"Same as you," Archer replied with a casual shrug.
Snape sneered. "Same, is it? I'm not a thief."
Archer blinked. "What?"
Snape's expression hardened. Before Archer could respond, he struck.
"Expelliarmus!"
A flash of red light shot forward.
Archer twisted sideways, wand flicking, deflecting the spell. The disarming charm zipped past his shoulder and exploded harmlessly against the stone wall.
"Professor Snape," Archer said evenly, now wary, "there seems to be a misunderstanding here. I'm not your enemy. Let me explain."
But Snape wasn't listening.
He lowered his wand only slightly, circling slowly, never taking his eyes off Archer. "A misunderstanding, you say? Then why are you sneaking around like a burglar?"
Archer's lips thinned.
Fine. If Snape wasn't going to listen...
"Incarcerous!"
Chains erupted from Archer's wand, writhing like serpents through the air toward Snape.
Snape was quick. With a sharp flick of his wand, he broke most of the chains, though one managed to wrap around his left wrist.
"Sectumsempra!"
A silver arc split the air. The chain disintegrated instantly.
"Hmph," Snape scoffed. "Is this your explanation, Professor Archer? Attacking with weak charms to clear your name?"
Archer's grip on his wand tightened. "You attacked first."
Snape's eyes narrowed. "Because I sensed something off—and clearly, I was right."
Tension hung thick in the air. Neither moved.
They were both capable duelists. Archer knew Snape wasn't someone he could defeat easily—but he couldn't back down either. Not when Quirrell might already be at the trapdoor.
Just then, a gust of wind echoed through the corridor. A door creaked open in the distance.
Both men turned their heads slightly.
Archer muttered, "We don't have time for this."
Snape, silent, gave a sharp nod.
Neither of them said a word, but a temporary truce formed between them.
They turned and sprinted toward the sound.
As they rounded the corner, Archer's heart pounded. If Quirrell got past the traps...
But when they arrived, the corridor was empty. The door leading to the forbidden section stood slightly ajar. Archer pushed it open.
Inside, Fluffy, the massive three-headed dog, slumbered heavily, charmed into sleep.
A harp stood nearby, strings still quivering from recent use.
"He's already inside," Archer said grimly.
Snape cursed under his breath.
Without hesitation, they stepped forward together.
One danger had passed, but another had just begun.
They still had to stop Quirrell—before it was too late.
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