Chapter 230: The Real Hell
In the end, Harry and Neville stuck with their plan. They would hand over Norbert to Charlie and have the dragon sent to Romania on Saturday—even if it meant punishment, imprisonment, or even being sent into the Forbidden Forest.
Phineas didn't object. This wasn't his business, and he had no interest in getting involved.
If anything, there was nothing to gain. If events followed the path of the original story, Harry and the others would encounter Professor Quirrell attacking a unicorn in the Forbidden Forest. Phineas could then collect unicorn blood and other rare materials.
But Phineas didn't need any of that. As a member of the Black family, he had both wealth and status, allowing him to purchase such rare magical materials easily. If necessary, bounty hunters or freelance wizards would even capture a live unicorn for the right price. In the wizarding world, money could buy almost anything.
Not to mention, the System Mall sold unicorn ingredients—but Phineas rarely used them.
Unicorn tail hair was most commonly used in wand cores. Unicorn blood could be used in certain rare potions, such as Baffy's Awakening Elixir. However, taken raw and unprocessed, unicorn blood acted more like a poison. While it could prolong life and strengthen the soul, it carried a terrible curse and induced extreme dependence—like an addiction. It was both dangerous and deeply unethical.
So Phineas wasn't bothered by the dragon transfer. As long as Harry and the others weren't in mortal danger, he didn't care.
After all, Phineas still needed Harry alive to fulfill his role as the Chosen One. It wasn't smart to step in and confront the Dark Lord himself, shouldering all the risk without any guarantee of reward. Who would do something so thankless?
And yet, when Saturday arrived, Phineas couldn't sleep.
He worried that his presence might have altered too much. Though everything seemed unchanged—Hagrid still received the dragon egg, Quirrell was still possessed, and Voldemort still sought unicorn blood—Phineas had already disrupted several key events. He'd freed Sirius early. He'd destroyed most of the Horcruxes. As someone who didn't exist in the original timeline, his actions could have created unexpected ripple effects.
Tonight's weather was dreadful—dark clouds blanketing the sky, the moon hidden, the air heavy and tense. In other words, perfect for smuggling a dragon.
Phineas knew Dumbledore was aware of what was happening. Otherwise, Charlie and his team would never have been allowed to fly over Hogwarts undetected. After seeing Dumbledore's control room in the lounge, Phineas was even more convinced.
He waited in Hagrid's hut, where the others arrived later than expected.
Apparently, Peeves had been playing tennis in the main hall. Phineas hadn't seen him when he came through, but it explained the delay.
Dragons were immune to most ordinary spells, but Phineas had prepared a special tranquilizer developed for dragon sanctuaries. He laced the potion into raw meat and fed it to Norbert.
Once Norbert passed out, Hagrid gently placed him into a slatted wooden crate.
"All set," Hagrid said hoarsely. "I packed him some mice and a bit of brandy—enough for the journey."
His voice was low and strained.
"I even gave him his teddy bear... so he won't feel lonely."
Phineas shook his head. He doubted a dragon cared for teddy bears. Besides, the sedative he'd used was strong enough to knock out an adult dragon from Hogwarts to Romania. Norbert wasn't even fully grown.
Still, Phineas didn't correct Hagrid. Given his bloodline, Hagrid often seemed more like a giant-hearted child than an adult. Best not to disturb his sentimentality. Phineas never believed a dragon could truly bond with a human, anyway.
"Goodbye, Norbert," Hagrid choked, wiping his tears with a grimy handkerchief. "Mum'll never forget you."
Harry and Neville hurriedly covered the crate with the Invisibility Cloak, then climbed beneath it themselves.
Phineas watched, then sighed.
"Wait."
Harry peeked his head out from under the cloak, puzzled.
"You're planning to carry this to the Astronomy Tower like that? Through corridors? Up several staircases? This crate is massive."
Harry scratched his head. "Er... yeah, we weren't exactly sure how we'd manage that."
Phineas sighed and raised his wand.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
The box floated smoothly into the air.
"You've learned this spell already—you used it on the troll, remember?"
Harry and Neville exchanged sheepish glances. They'd completely forgotten magic was even an option.
"Go on," Phineas said. "My charm will last long enough, but don't forget—you'll need to maintain it yourselves soon."
They nodded. With the box levitating under the cloak, they set off.
Phineas waited in the hut. He had no way of knowing whether they'd succeeded. Thanks to the cloak, he couldn't even tell how far they'd gone.
He could have helped. Puff could have taken the box and apparated straight to the tower before Draco and Professor McGonagall arrived.
But Phineas didn't. At the end of the day, this wasn't his problem. If Harry hadn't come to him about Ron's injury, Phineas wouldn't be involved at all.
He hadn't even interfered in his own cousin Draco's affairs.
So, he returned to the Room of Requirement. He had more pressing matters.
He still hadn't taken the bloodline potion he'd refined in Hufflepuff's secret chamber. Nor had he collected his system reward for completing the quest. There were also pieces of Hufflepuff's legacy he wanted to sort and give to George and Fred—tools that would suit them well.
He stared at the small pink potion vial in his hand. Then, bracing himself, he drank it in one gulp.
He was gambling—trusting that the knowledge Hufflepuff had left him was real, and that she had let him go because of his Slytherin ties.
It was the most helpless Phineas had felt in his life. In Hufflepuff's presence, he hadn't even been able to take his own life. He could only listen as she spoke, transferring knowledge directly into his mind. Even now, he wasn't certain how she'd disappeared afterward.
And he wasn't sure the legacy was trustworthy.
The quest was marked "complete," but that didn't prove anything. He was entirely at the mercy of someone long gone. That powerlessness... he never wanted to feel it again.
He took a deep breath as the potion's effects began.
His body seized up. Pain exploded through every limb.
He collapsed, curling into a ball, shuddering uncontrollably.
Sweat poured from his skin. The pain had hit within seconds—and it was already unbearable.
But in Hufflepuff's memory, the potion required full consciousness to achieve maximum effect. He had to stay awake through all of it.
The pain felt like being sliced apart—cut after cut, piece by piece. Each slice was shallow enough to avoid death, but deep enough to make him scream inside.
After half an hour, it finally eased. His clothes were soaked. He could barely breathe, let alone move.
But then it began again.
This time, it wasn't his skin—it was his blood.
His veins throbbed like they were filled with molten iron. With every heartbeat, it felt like his vessels were being torn open. His brain grew hazy. His senses dulled. Consciousness slipped.
But he couldn't afford to pass out.
If he did, all his pain would be wasted. And if he couldn't survive this, how could he hope to survive the path to godhood?
The strongest never stopped walking—no matter how many tried to block the way.
Still, this time, no external pain could wake him. The agony had numbed everything else. Only sheer willpower kept him conscious.
Finally, the pain faded once more.
Phineas couldn't feel his body anymore. He could move—but it felt distant, disconnected.
"Puff," he whispered.
The elf appeared, carrying food. Phineas needed energy—high-calorie meals, plus saltwater to restore what he'd lost.
Puff fed him bite by bite.
But as Phineas took a third bite, it struck again.
He choked on the food, fell to the ground, and began convulsing.
Puff rushed to him in panic.
"No—Puff... don't... mind me... go... prepare... more... quickly..."