When Wyzett laid eyes on the troll's corpse, he couldn't help but murmur, "Professor Sprout was right. The Devil's Snare's strangling power is incredible—it can even bring down a troll…"
The troll's bones were all but pulverized, its body reduced to a mass of flesh, with jagged ribs piercing through its hide—a gruesome sight.
And yet, the very Devil's Snare that had wrought such havoc now shrank away from the light, curling into a tight, quivering ball.
It was powerful enough to kill a troll, but still helpless before a simple Lumos charm…
For some reason, Wyzett suddenly thought of Jungle Chess: sometimes, a mouse can bring down an elephant.
The next chamber was much smaller. Inside, a table stood with seven different potions arranged neatly atop it, a riddle provided alongside for good measure.
As soon as the door closed behind them, purple and black flames sprang up, sealing both exits in a wall of fire.
Voldemort strode past Wyzett and rapped his knuckles lightly on the table.
The potion bottles immediately shuffled themselves, only to return to their original positions a few seconds later.
"Heh… How delightful. If it's a game you want, then let's play!"
In Voldemort's voice, Wyzett caught a note of disdain—and a dangerous, eager excitement.
"My student, these two challenges are far too dull," Voldemort said quietly. "Let's go wait for our other guests."
He spared not another glance at the potions. With a casual flick of his wand, the flames vanished as if they'd never been.
Wyzett followed close behind, just in time to catch a faint echo of Harry's voice from the corridor: "We don't have to fight the troll! Ugh… Let's get out of here, it stinks… oh, Merlin, it's awful…"
Forced to use the Full Body-Bind Curse on Neville, Harry, Hermione, and Ron finally made it to the fourth-floor corridor after a series of trials.
"The door's already open!" Harry said, his voice tinged with despair. "Snape must've figured out how to get past Fluffy!"
He hurried over, pulling out the flute Hagrid had given him and doing his best to play something resembling a lullaby.
Whether it was Harry's musical instincts or just Fluffy's generous definition of 'music', it only took a few notes before the giant dog's eyelids began to droop.
"He left a staircase? It must be a long drop—Lumos!" Hermione frowned, casting a light charm.
By the faint glow, Harry could just make out something writhing below. "Do you see that? What is it?"
Ron exchanged a glance with Hermione and lit his own wand.
"It's Devil's Snare! No wonder they used stairs," Hermione blurted out, quick as ever. "Let's go! Keep your wands lit—Devil's Snare hates the light!"
Harry and his friends made it through the room of flying keys, but were nearly stopped cold by the Wizard's Chess board.
Ron showed his true talent, sacrificing his own safety for victory—collapsing unconscious, but winning them passage to the next chamber.
By the glow of their wands, Hermione and Harry glimpsed the shattered remains of the troll. They both gasped, then doubled over, retching from the overpowering stench.
They reached the potions room. Hermione quickly solved the riddle and identified two bottles that would let them pass through the flames.
Staring at the tiny amount of potion, Harry made his decision. "Hermione, you take the other bottle and go find Ron."
"Grab a broomstick, fly back up, and have him send a message to Headmaster Dumbledore with Hedwig. And give that clue to Professor McGonagall—she'll believe us if you do!"
"But what if it's not just Professor Snape in there… what if it's—You-Know-Who?" Hermione asked, her voice trembling.
Harry brushed his hair aside, revealing his lightning-bolt scar. "I'm the Boy Who Lived, remember? I beat Voldemort once—maybe I'll get lucky again."
"Go on!" He managed a shaky smile. "The sooner you find Professor McGonagall or get Dumbledore here, the safer I'll be."
Hermione's lips trembled as she hugged him. "You're a brilliant wizard, Harry."
"I always count on you for homework!" Harry's ears turned pink. "Used to count on Wyzett too."
Hermione's eyes shimmered with tears. "I just memorize books… Being a real wizard takes more than that. Like courage…"
"Yeah." Harry turned away, a flicker of fear on his face.
He downed the potion in one gulp, making sure not a drop was left, then strode into the wall of black fire.
The potion sent a chill through his veins, freezing not only the flames but his fear as well.
Warmth washed over him, as if courage itself had wrapped him in a protective shield. For the first time, he felt truly fearless.
The final room was far grander than expected. In the center stood a towering, ornate mirror—its gilded frame stretching all the way to the ceiling.
"Just as I thought…" Voldemort let out a soft, knowing laugh. "There's a magical artifact hidden within this mirror. I can sense it—everything is going exactly as planned."
He guided Quirrell's body to stand before the mirror, examining it closely.
Wyzett pressed his lips together, steadying his breath, silently rehearsing the Soul-Cleansing Charm in his mind.
Everything was unfolding as expected: Voldemort could not yet unlock the mirror's secret, and Wyzett was ready.
It wasn't long before Harry burst through the flames and entered the chamber.
Voldemort's voice echoed across the room. "Harry Potter! I heard your touching speech—such a brave 'Boy Who Lived'!"
"Not Snape?" Harry scanned the room, his eyes widening. "Who are you?"
All his attention fixed on Voldemort, Harry hurried down the steps, demanding, "Who are you?!"
"Isn't this your claim to fame?" Voldemort made Quirrell pull back his hood, revealing a head twice the normal size. "And yet you ask… who am I?"
In front of Quirrell's paper-white face, a haze of black mist swirled, forming the vague outline of a mask.
"This is Gryffindor—reckless, so very reckless!" The mask twisted slightly, the lips seeming to move, Voldemort's voice buzzing from within.
Harry's eyes widened in terror as his scar erupted in a pain he'd never known.
He clenched his teeth, voice ragged and broken. "Pr… Professor Quirrell? No! You're… Voldemort! You're Voldemort!"
"At least you've got some sense…" Voldemort said offhandedly, his attention clearly elsewhere as he scanned the room for any sign of change.
"So, you're not coming out?" His voice was laced with disappointment. "Still hiding in the shadows, always watching—just as you did all those years ago…"
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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