Wyzett recalled, "The Parkinson family attacked me before I even started at Hogwarts. If it weren't for Professor McGonagall showing up in time, I might not be here at all."
"And ever since I arrived, Slytherin hasn't exactly welcomed me with open arms. So honestly… I don't have much fondness for them."
"The Parkinsons, hmm?" Voldemort sneered, cold amusement flickering in his eyes. "On to the next room. I'm giving you an 'O' for this one—you did exceptionally well!"
Wyzett nodded. "Mm…"
"That's your attitude toward your professor?"
"Thank you for the compliment, Professor."
"It's well deserved."
Beyond the door lay a massive chessboard—each piece towering, clearly modeled after Hagrid's size. Both black and white pieces loomed like armored giants, robed and weaponed, eerily lifelike.
Voldemort surveyed the scene. "Wizard's Chess—surely a Ravenclaw specialty… Or perhaps you don't have any weak points? How do you plan to get through?"
"Wizard's Chess just happens to be my weak spot," Wyzett admitted with a slight cough. "I know the rules, but I never actually play."
Voldemort looked surprised. "Never?"
Wyzett nodded. "Studying takes up all my time. If my roommates want to play, I just serve as referee."
"Ha!" Voldemort let out a sharp laugh. "Ravenclaw indeed. Still, I wouldn't mind seeing you stumble for once."
Wyzett replied smoothly, "If it were you, Professor, how would you handle this room?"
"I'd unleash the Obscurus on the chessboard," Voldemort replied, his tone tinged with dark humor. "Wipe the whole thing out."
"Well then…"
Wyzett stepped forward, only stopping when the white pieces raised their weapons in warning.
"My student, brute force won't work here!" Voldemort chuckled. "I could give you a lesson on the spot—there are several Dark Arts spells that would be perfect for this."
Wyzett didn't answer directly. He studied the enormous chessboard, pondering his approach…
The rules of Wizard's Chess were much like Muggle chess, with one crucial difference—the pieces themselves. They moved on command, and "capturing" meant one piece smashing another to bits and dragging the wreckage away.
"Are rules really so important to a wizard?" Wyzett murmured to himself.
He felt on the edge of inspiration, but the answer was just out of reach.
"Pro—Professor, you just said… destroy the whole board?"
Voldemort looked intrigued. "Care to try? Some aggressive Dark Magic?"
"Destruction… actually sounds promising." Suddenly, Wyzett had an idea. He walked up close to the white pieces, examining them intently.
After a long moment, he returned to the back ranks and took the black king's spot, commanding his pieces to begin the game.
As in standard chess, white moved first.
After a few chaotic moves, the white pieces utterly wiped out the black side. Wyzett surrendered without hesitation.
Voldemort was delighted, his tone almost gleeful. "Remarkable… Are you aiming for a Troll grade, my student?"
Wyzett remained calm, pulling out his notebook to jot down observations. "The pieces are agile… powerful… incredibly responsive—they obey instantly." At the end, he drew a five-pointed star, marking it as key intelligence.
"So, you're not going to play by the book?" Voldemort asked, clearly entertained.
"You know, there's a Slytherin saying: 'Contempt for laws and regulations is a Slytherin's instinct.'"
"Is that so?" Wyzett replied lightly, pulling a piece of parchment from his bag and crumpling it into a ball, practicing Transfiguration over and over.
Voldemort watched the shifting forms, then regarded Wyzett with a glint of admiration. He already understood what the boy intended.
After a while, Wyzett exhaled, tucked the parchment ball away, and declared, "That should do it! Let's begin."
This time, instead of taking the king's position, he stepped forward as a mere pawn.
As soon as the white side made its move, Wyzett strode to the center, pointed his wand at the white king, and declared, "Mutatio Rationalis!"
The white king's color deepened, transforming into the image of the black king.
Wyzett spun around and cast again. "Mutatio Rationalis!"
Now the black king shifted, its dark hue turning pure white—becoming a white king deep within enemy lines.
He let out a long breath. "Now it's my turn. Check!"
Boom!
All the black pieces whirled around, weapons raised. The black queen lifted her scepter and slammed it down on the white king.
Shards flew; the white king was left in ruins, dragged off the board by the queen.
A heavy silence followed, broken only when the white pieces rumbled into motion, retreating to the sides and clearing a path.
"Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!" Voldemort's voice soared with approval. "Another 'O', my student!"
Wyzett exhaled. "Rules really are meant to be broken."
"I'll give you a hint for the next challenge, Wyzett," Voldemort said, clearly in high spirits. "The next room is Quirinus's doing—a mountain troll, even stronger than before."
"Shouldn't be a problem, right? You could use the Obscurus, or the Wasting Curse—either would finish it. Of course, if you'd rather join me, I'd be happy to stretch my legs…"
"I've got a better idea!" Wyzett smiled, holding up the shriveled Devil's Snare. "That's why I've been carrying this. No harm in being prepared!"
As soon as Wyzett pulled open the iron door, a wave of stench hit him, accompanied by thunderous snores.
"Pitch black—perfect for sleeping… and a feast for the Devil's Snare!"
He crumpled the oil-paper parcel to the size of a Quaffle, lobbed it into the darkness, and slammed the door shut.
The battle between Devil's Snare and the mountain troll erupted.
Even through the floor, the tremors, the sound of shattering stone, and the troll's furious roars left no doubt how fierce the fight was.
At last, after a series of sickening bone-crunches, the ground stilled and all fell silent.
"Lumos!"
Wyzett lit up the room before entering the troll's chamber.
Dust from collapsed walls danced in the beam of light, swirling thick as gnats—an eerie, mesmerizing sight…
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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