The darkness of the hollow was suddenly shattered as two hulking, misshapen silhouettes peeled themselves away from the far wall. They were massive, their skin the color of moldy lichen, and their shoulders were so broad they seemed to scrape the ceiling of the earthen lair.
"Two of them! There are two!" Lee Jordan's voice hit a register usually reserved for high-pitched tea kettles. It was a miracle of sheer willpower that his knees hadn't locked up entirely, given that the nearest troll was currently scratching its massive, lumpy belly with a club the size of a tree trunk.
"Keep your voice down unless you want to be dinner!" Albert hissed, his voice barely a breath of wind inside his shimmering bubble. "The Disillusionment Charms are still holding. Trolls aren't exactly known for their keen deductive reasoning or their twenty-twenty vision. If we stay still, we're just part of the scenery."
George had his wand leveled at the lead troll's chest, his knuckles white. "What's the play, Albert? We can't just stand here and wait for them to stumble over us. My trust in your 'scenery' theory is currently at an all-time low."
"We back away from the entrance. Quietly," Albert commanded, drifting backward with the grace of a ghost. As he moved, he reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a small, brightly colored bundle—a Screaming Inflatable Skeleton Man he'd picked up from Zonko's during a particularly bored Hogsmeade trip.
He tossed it toward the mouth of the lair and whispered a quick activation charm.
The effect was instantaneous. The skeleton hissed as it inflated, its bony limbs flailing wildly while a piercing, magical shriek erupted from its painted jaw. In the pitch-black woods, the combination of the high-pitched noise and the frantic movement was like a flare in a coal mine.
Albert had read the situation perfectly. Trolls were creatures of instinct and aggression, and their tiny, walnut-sized brains were currently being overloaded by the sudden appearance of a noisy, glowing intruder. They completely ignored the four invisible boys crouching in the shadows, their dull eyes fixated entirely on the screaming toy.
The lead Forest Troll let out a guttural roar, raised its massive wooden club, and brought it down with enough force to crack a boulder. The ground beneath their feet shuddered, and the inflatable skeleton was reduced to a spray of colorful plastic and silence.
"Don't just admire the handiwork! Take the opening!" Albert shouted, the time for stealth having officially passed.
Before the first troll could even process that its "prey" had vanished, Albert flicked his wand with a sharp, downward motion. A massive, magically conjured wooden mallet materialized in the air above the troll's head and slammed home with a sickening thud. The giant swayed, its eyes rolling back into its head, before it collapsed face-forward into the dirt like a felled oak.
The second troll roared in confusion, but the Gryffindors were ready.
"Stupefy!" Fred, George, and Lee shouted in unison. Three jets of red light streaked through the gloom, striking the remaining troll squarely in the chest and neck. The beast stumbled back, looking more drunk than defeated, its thick, magically resistant hide soaking up the impact.
"Their skin is like dragon scale! Hit it again, aim for the soft spots!" Albert called out. He didn't wait for them to find a rhythm; he sent a second mallet crashing into the back of the second troll's skull. It folded instantly, joining its companion in unconsciousness.
"I... I can't believe that actually worked," Lee panted, leaning against a mossy rock to steady his shaking hands. "We just took down two full-grown Forest Trolls. That's got to be worth some kind of extra credit."
"These things are even uglier up close," George noted, stepping gingerly around a massive, splayed hand. "And the smell... Merlin, it's like they're made of concentrated swamp gas. Bill always said the Goblins use these things to guard the deep vaults at Gringotts. I honestly don't know how the Goblins stand it. Do they give them a bath once a century or just hold their breath for a living?"
"I don't think a bath would touch this," Lee said, gesturing vaguely at the nearest troll. "This is a deep-seated, ancestral kind of filth. It's like they were born in a sewer and haven't left since."
"Let's not get poetic about it," Albert interrupted. He was busy waving his wand, weaving the thick, thorny vines from the forest floor into heavy, enchanted ropes. He bound the two giants together, looping the vines around their ankles and wrists with enough strength to hold a dragon.
"Just a precaution," he added. "I'd rather not have them waking up while we're elbow-deep in their trash."
"Did you bring the camera, Albert?" Lee asked, his eyes suddenly lighting up with the prospect of fame. "Please tell me you brought the camera. If we get a picture of us standing over two tied-up trolls, we'll be legends. We could sell copies to the Daily Prophet!"
Fred and George turned to Albert, their expressions hopeful. "Yeah, tell us you've got the Omniocular or something in that bag of yours."
"We're on a treasure hunt, not a holiday to the seaside," Albert grumbled, though he felt a quiet satisfaction. The "Fearless Challenger" notification had just pinged in his mind, confirming the mission was complete. He'd cleared a hurdle he'd expected to take another year to jump. "No camera. Besides, we have a job to do."
"What a waste," George sighed. "Beating trolls in second year... that's prime bragging material. We could have put it on a poster."
"Focus," Albert said, though he was smiling. "The map is pointing right into the back of that pit. In every story I've ever read, the trolls always sit on the good stuff. Let's see if these two have been hoarding anything more interesting than deer bones."
"Are we actually going into the hole?" Lee asked, his newfound courage beginning to flag as he looked at the dark, reeking entrance. "It looks... damp. And very, very sticky."
"If there's nothing in there, we head back to the castle and I'll buy the first round of Butterbeer," Albert said, pulling out the Treasure Map. The golden marker was practically vibrating now, centered directly on the lair.
"I have a better idea," Fred suggested. "Albert, since it was your map and your plan, why don't you go in first and give us a shout if it's clear?"
"Nice try," Albert chuckled, giving Fred a light shove toward the entrance. "Since you were the one complaining about wanting to find Galleons, you get the honor of the first look."
"Merlin's beard, you lot are ruthless," Fred muttered, though he gripped his wand tight and stepped inside. George and Lee followed closely, not wanting to be left alone with the unconscious giants outside.
Walking into the troll's den was an assault on every sense. Even with the Bubble-Head Charms, the visual horror was enough to make them gag. The floor was a carpet of half-chewed remains and things that were best left unidentified. The light from their wands danced off slimy walls and piles of "nesting material" that looked suspiciously like old rags and animal fur.
"If I find out this was just a prank by some ancient Gryffindor, I'm going to haunt his portrait," George grumbled, kicking aside a ribcage. "There's nothing in here but misery and smells."
"Wait," Fred called out from the very back of the hollow. He was crouched over a section of the floor where the dirt seemed to have been cleared away. "Come look at this. It's not a chest, but it's definitely not a bone."
Albert and the others gathered around. Poking out from the filth was a jagged, grey shape. As Albert cleared away the grime with a quick Scourgify, the objects were revealed.
"It looks like... pieces of a statue," Fred said, frowning.
He reached down and pulled out a heavy, stone hand, broken at the wrist. Beside it lay a segment of a face—a stern, noble eye carved from granite, staring up at them through the muck.