Chapter 101. The Broken Challenge
When Ron and Hermione's feet touched the ground, they were startled to find it was soft beneath them.
However, before they could take a closer look at their situation—
Hermione suddenly felt something winding around her ankles.
And it was tightening and tightening.
"What is this?!" Ron cried out in panic.
"Incendio!"
A familiar voice came from nearby.
Harry was watching them from the corner; a jet of flame shot from his wand to the ground by Hermione and Ron's feet.
Ron looked down. By the light of the fire, he finally saw that what was twining round his legs was a mass of vines.
And those vines, under Harry's Fire-Making Spell, recoiled like frightened snakes.
Hermione and Ron seized the chance to run to Harry's side.
"It's Devil's Snare," Hermione said, watching the vines withdraw like the tide. "But it doesn't look quite like the kind Professor Wesson grows."
"Yes," Harry nodded, then said to them, "But didn't I tell you to go and inform the professors?"
"Do you think we'd slink off with our tails between our legs and leave you behind?" Ron thrust out his chest.
Harry was a little moved, but it also meant they no longer had help from the professors.
And when Harry looked up at the ceiling, the hole was quite far away. Without tools, it would be difficult to get back.
"Lumos."
With Harry's incantation, a beam of light shone from the tip of his wand.
Only then could they see their surroundings clearly: they were in a damp, dark corridor.
"Those vines were most likely prepared by Professor Sprout," Harry said as he moved along the corridor. "The professors must each have set up their own defences. I don't know what kind Professor Wesson designed. I hope they can keep the intruder out."
After walking for a while, they came to a large, open room, where hundreds—maybe thousands—of winged keys were floating overhead.
Ron looked up at the keys and couldn't help asking, "Are we supposed to find the right one among all these?"
Hermione shook her head and motioned for Ron to look at the door on the far side.
The lock was a jagged hole—as if it had been blasted apart by magic.
So they didn't need a key to pass this challenge.
After passing through that door, they came to another pitch-black room.
As soon as they went in, the torches flared to life. Inside was a gigantic chessboard, its black and white pieces taller than they were.
However, those pieces were battered and broken, and there was a great fissure across the centre of the board.
As with the previous challenge, it was obvious someone had come ahead of them and wrecked the place.
Behind the white pieces, the three of them found another door.
Before going in, Harry said gravely to Hermione and Ron, "Whoever came in before us must be very powerful. These defences haven't worked."
"Maybe tomorrow the Daily Prophet will run a story about three Hogwarts students being killed," Ron said uneasily.
Hermione thumped him hard between the shoulder blades. "Shut it, Ron! We—"
Her scolding cut off abruptly.
As they pushed open the next door, seven green shapes suddenly sprang from the corners, baring sharp teeth and hemming the three of them in.
"Chinese Chomping Cabbage!" Harry said in delight. There was only one person at Hogwarts who kept such a creature—Professor Wesson.
The seven cabbages glared at Harry, teeth bared.
Harry hurriedly pulled Gulu from his pocket.
Gulu hopped to the floor and put himself in front of Harry, rolling back and forth before the seven cabbages as if he were communicating with them.
A moment later, those fierce-looking cabbages slowly drew back.
"Before we arrived, did you lot see anyone else?" Harry crouched in front of one of the cabbages and asked.
"All right, I forgot you can't talk..."
In fact, these seven Chinese Chomping Cabbages had encountered Lord Voldemort earlier.
However, being sensitive to danger, they had sensed Voldemort's overwhelming aura at once and had hidden in the corners beforehand.
Useless lot...
In the next room there was only a single table. On it stood seven bottles of different potions and a sheet of parchment.
As they walked up to the table, black and purple flames suddenly sprang up before and behind them.
On the parchment was a simple logic puzzle, and the clever Hermione worked out the correct answer at once.
Pointing at the smallest bottle, Hermione said, "That's the correct one."
However, when Harry picked it up, he found there was only a trace left.
"Looks like only one of us can drink this potion," Ron said.
Harry shook his head, put the bottle down, and set the little pouch he always carried onto the table.
He groped around inside for a moment, then took out a bottle of orange-yellow potion.
"This is a Fire Resistance Potion," Harry explained. "If we drink it, we'll be able to pass through the flames."
Hermione took the Fire Resistance Potion from Harry, saying a little distrustfully, "I've never heard of such a potion."
"It's Professor Wesson's invention," Harry said. "He brewed this one himself. The ingredients were apparently a red mushroom and something called magma cream—come on, let's hurry up and try it. One swallow each."
At that, Hermione relaxed at once, unscrewed the cap, and drank a third.
Then Harry and Ron did the same.
After the three of them drank the Fire Resistance Potion, they suddenly felt a pleasant warmth spread through their bodies.
"Let's go."
With that, Harry charged first into the black flames.
Hermione and Ron followed close behind.
They passed through the fire unscathed, and what came into view was a huge mirror.
"This should be the last room. Oh—that must be the Mirror of Erised."
Harry looked around. There was no other door leading onward, and no other figure in sight.
As the three of them slowly approached the Mirror of Erised—
"Good evening—" a hoarse voice came from behind the Mirror of Erised.
Harry stopped dead, every hair on his body standing on end.
The sound was as grating as nails scraping a blackboard, raising gooseflesh on the back of his neck. "Who's there?!" he shouted, wand aimed behind the mirror.
A figure in black robes slowly stepped out from behind it, and the three of them felt their hearts leap into their throats.
The man had Quirrell's face, but it was covered in a web of cracks, as though it might shatter at any moment.
And when he looked at that face, Harry's scar suddenly throbbed with a stabbing pain.
He realised at once who stood before them.
It wasn't Quirrell, but—
"Voldemort..." Harry said under his breath.
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