After leaving the trial Charles had set up, Harry and his friends arrived at Professor McGonagall's chamber.
They now stood beside a massive chessboard. Ahead of them loomed a formation of black chess pieces—each towering higher than the children themselves, seemingly carved from obsidian or some other dark stone. On the opposite side of the chamber, the white pieces stood in silent formation. Harry, Ron, and Hermione trembled from head to toe—the blank faces of those tall white figures were unsettlingly featureless.
"Looks like we'll have to play our way across," Ron murmured, studying the board.
"How are we supposed to play?" Hermione asked nervously.
"From the looks of it," Ron said, "we'll have to take the place of the pieces ourselves."
He stepped up beside a black knight and touched the horse's flank. Immediately, the stone creature came to life—the hooves scraped against the floor, and the armored knight turned its helmeted head toward Ron.
"So… we have to, um, play alongside you to get across?"
The black knight gave a curt nod. Ron turned to Harry and Hermione.
"We need to think carefully…" he said. "I'm afraid we'll have to replace three of the black pieces."
The board was enormous. If they chose their positions poorly, all three of them might be wiped out before the end. Even if one of them survived, the match could still be lost.
"Now don't take this the wrong way," Ron said, trying to sound gentle, "but honestly—you two aren't much good at chess."
He wasn't wrong. Harry had never once beaten Ron in a match, and Hermione, after a few tries, had lost interest entirely.
"We're not upset," Harry said quickly. "Just tell us what to do."
Every move had to be made with care. A wrong placement could mean being taken by the opponent—and these pieces didn't look gentle about it. Ron would have to plan the entire match out in his head.
"All right. Harry, you take the bishop there. Hermione, that rook in the corner." He pointed decisively—those two had the best chance of survival in his strategy.
As soon as he spoke, the bishop and rook turned their featureless faces away from the white side and stepped off the board, leaving two empty spaces for Harry and Hermione.
"And I'll be a knight!" Ron declared with resolve, swinging himself up onto the horse. The black knight beside him stepped aside, ceding its place.
"The rules are the same—white moves first," Ron said, glancing toward the far side. "There—they've started."
A white pawn advanced two squares forward.
Ron began issuing commands. Harry and Hermione followed his directions without question.
"Harry—four squares diagonally forward, to the right."
But as soon as Harry moved, the white side struck back viciously. Their queen lunged across the board, striking down one of the black pieces. The blow was brutally physical—she slammed the knight to the ground and dragged him off the board, where he lay motionless.
All three of them turned pale as ghosts. The violence of the attack reminded them of the giants conjured by the dark wizard in the Forbidden Forest not long ago.
If a piece could do that to a person, the result wouldn't be pretty.
"We'll be smashed to bits!" Hermione's voice trembled on the edge of tears.
The match grew fiercer with every turn. The white pieces were ruthless; the black side's fallen bodies soon littered the walls in silent heaps.
Now the white queen turned her blank face toward Ron.
He understood at once what had to happen. There was only one way to win.
"I'll have to be taken."
"No!"
Harry and Hermione shouted together. The way these pieces struck—if Ron was hit, he could easily die.
"That's chess!" Ron snapped. "There's always sacrifice! When she takes me, you'll be able to checkmate the king, Harry!"
"But—"
"Do you want to stop Snape or not?"
"Ron—!"
"Hurry! We've already wasted time on the last challenge. If we don't move now, he'll have the Stone!"
Harry hesitated no longer.
"Ready?" Ron called, his face pale but determined. "I'm going now—when you win, move fast. Don't stay here!"
He stepped forward. The white queen lunged. Her stone arm came crashing down on his head; Ron fell from his horse to the floor with a heavy thud. Hermione screamed but didn't move from her square. The queen dragged Ron's limp body aside—he appeared merely unconscious.
Harry's whole body shook, but he moved three steps to the left.
The white king removed his crown and dropped it at Harry's feet. Then all the white pieces bowed and stepped back, opening a path to the door.
With one last sorrowful glance at Ron, Harry and Hermione ran through the doorway and down the next corridor.
Once their figures disappeared, Charles and Dumbledore lifted the Disillusionment Charm concealing them.
"That was far too dangerous," Charles muttered, turning to the Headmaster, who looked as rattled as he did.
"I failed to make it clear to Minerva that this test was meant for the children," Dumbledore sighed. He hurried over to check on Ron, finding him only stunned by the queen's blow—relieved, he straightened up.
"If something had truly happened to him, I'd never have been able to face Molly."
Leaving Ron where he lay, Charles let his Chansey use Heal Pulse to ensure there were no lasting injuries, then the two men continued forward.
Ahead lay Quirrell's chamber—reeking with a foul stench.
Originally it had held a group of trolls, but Quirrell had already dispatched them himself.
Next came Snape's trial. By the time Charles and Dumbledore reached it, the room was ablaze. Hermione, having drunk the potion, emerged from the purple flames, sprinting past the invisible forms of the two hidden observers.
Moments later, Harry drank his potion and stepped through the fire.
"Let's go as well," Dumbledore said. He didn't even draw his wand—he simply extended his hand. The flames leapt up and split apart before him.
Fire God's Path!The spell, famous from the legendary seven-part film saga, was in truth a powerful charm of flame control—so strong that, if one's magic was great enough, it could even command Fiendfyre.
——
Now, standing before Harry, was Professor Quirrell.
"I was just wondering whether I'd meet you here, Potter."
Quirrell was smiling broadly, his tone dripping with satisfaction. Gone was the timid stammer; gone was the nervous quiver.
"How—it's you? I thought it was Snape—"
"Yes, yes, Severus never looks trustworthy, does he? Like some giant bat flapping about the castle. Very useful, that. With him there as a distraction, who would ever suspect poor, stuttering Professor Quirrell?" he said, mimicking his old stammer mockingly.
He clearly believed he'd fooled everyone, and the pride of that deception swelled within him. Victory was near, and he could afford to gloat.
As he inspected the Mirror of Erised, trying to unlock its secret, he spoke freely.
The troll? His doing.The Halloween attack on the forbidden corridor? Also his.The attempt to kill Harry during the Quidditch match? His.The unicorns slaughtered in the Forbidden Forest? Him again.
But—
"You meddle too much, Potter!" Quirrell's face twisted suddenly. "If you hadn't interfered in the Forest, I wouldn't have suffered so much—or earned my master's wrath!"
He flicked his wand; ropes shot out, writhing like serpents as they flew toward Harry.
But Harry wasn't about to give in.
He dropped flat, rolled aside, and snatched a Poké Ball from his belt, throwing it forward with all his strength.
"Quirrell, you're not getting the Stone! Go, Elekid!"
A Pokémon that looked like a living battery appeared before Quirrell.
At once, Elekid crackled with boundless energy, discharging arcs of lightning across the room. Its vigor seemed endless.
Though Elekid's capacity to store power wasn't immense, Harry's was clearly well-trained—the sheer force proved it was high-level.
"Ha! Another one of those creatures!" Quirrell snarled.
He still hadn't forgotten Gengar.
He would never have guessed that the Gengar Charles Gold had given him would not only disobey orders, but attack him instead—hiding in his shadow, it had nearly destroyed him in an earlier test.
No wonder his rage boiled now. If not for Voldemort's direct intervention, Quirrell might have lost to that ghost outright.
And so, the sight of another Pokémon made his blood boil.
"You think you can stop me? Dumbledore and Charles Gold are in London! By the time they return, I'll be long gone—with the Stone!" Quirrell sneered.
"The next time we meet, they'll face my master himself!"
"So what? Even if your master's alive, he's no match for the Headmaster and Professor!" Harry shot back fiercely. "Elekid, use Thunder Wave!"
Elekid swung its arms and unleashed a burst of electricity toward Quirrell.
But the spellcaster merely flicked his wand, deflecting the lightning harmlessly aside.
"Crucio!"
The curse struck Elekid squarely, flinging it back and leaving it trembling from pain.
"Are you all right, Elekid?!" Harry shouted anxiously.
The Pokémon staggered, but stood its ground, sparks crackling defiantly across its body.
"These creatures are remarkable," Quirrell admitted coldly. "Any wizard hit by that curse would be wishing he was dead already." His tone was calm, but his attacks came faster—silent curses, dozens of them, darting from his wand.
"Elekid, dodge them!"
The Pokémon didn't need Harry's reminder—it had no intention of taking another hit like that.
But endless dodging wouldn't last forever. The best defense was offense.
"His attacks are too fast," Harry thought. "We need an opening!"
"Elekid—use Swift to intercept the spells!"
Rolling aside, Elekid unleashed a barrage of golden stars. They met the incoming curses midair with bright explosions.
"Now! Quick Attack!"
Quirrell had just begun to cast another curse when a streak of white light slammed into him. He hadn't even raised his wand before the blow struck.
Pain exploded across his chest, knocking the breath from his lungs.
"Good work, Elekid! Keep going—use Thunder—"
"Transfiguro!"
Harry's command was cut off as Quirrell completed his spell first.
A massive rock serpent materialized before him, its tail whipping out and smashing Elekid across the chamber.
"This ends here, Potter. You can't stop me."
Harry's face tightened—but then he exhaled in relief.
At least rock types weren't immune to electric attacks.
"Elekid, can you still fight?" he called. His Houndour was already down; only Elekid and Pikachu remained.
If Elekid fell too, he was finished.
But the Pokémon answered with a fierce cry.
"Elekid!"
It raised its arms high, lightning dancing around its body—and suddenly, its entire form began to glow.
"That's—evolution?" Harry gasped.
The glow grew brighter. Elekid's body lengthened and broadened, its arms thickening with muscle.
When the light faded, a new Pokémon stood before him—taller, stronger, and blazing with power.
Electabuzz!
(End of Chapter)