Seeing that Harry had already gone into the next room, Neville hastily used the Levitation Charm to float Ron into a corner by the wall, then chased after Harry into the new challenge.
When Neville entered, he found the room brightly lit. Harry stood at the front, his body trembling slightly.
Following Harry's line of sight, Neville was taken aback by what he saw.
They were standing at the edge of a giant chessboard. In front of them was a row of black pieces, seemingly carved from stone or something similar, towering even taller than they were.
On the far side of the room stood white pieces similar to the black ones. The white pieces looked harmless at first glance—yet this eerie chess set was clearly what had frightened Harry so badly.
Neville hurried forward to ask Harry, "Should we try skirting around the side, and then you can break through another wall?"
Jolted by Neville's words, Harry swallowed and offered his suggestion.
After hearing him out, Neville strode forward without a hint of worry.
He wasn't worried about the situation at all. Since Gran hadn't stopped him, there couldn't be any danger—and he'd noticed earlier that Loren was watching, which made Neville feel even safer.
Seeing Neville move, Harry forced down his fear and followed.
No sooner had they reached the center of the board than the white pieces opposite them came to life, raising their weapons and striking battle poses.
Startled, they spun around, only to see the black pieces behind them animating as well, mirroring the whites.
"Looks like we're supposed to fight them?"
"No… maybe we have to play them at chess."
Harry shook his head and voiced his guess.
"Uh, if it's chess, I'm no good at it."
"If only Ron were here—he's great at Wizard's Chess."
Harry found himself missing Ron. If Ron hadn't had that accident, he would certainly have won this game for them.
Hearing that, Neville flushed—after all, Ron had gotten hurt because of his own rashness.
With Ron absent, Harry had no choice but to force himself into the role.
Once they stepped back, the pieces returned to lifeless stone, making no further move.
Studying the board, Harry murmured, knowing full well his skill was far worse than Ron's. "Maybe we have to take the places of the pieces ourselves. Neville, you go to the knight's square, and I'll take the bishop's."
The pieces seemed to understand. As soon as Harry spoke, one knight and one bishop turned, walked off the board with their backs to the white army, and yielded two empty squares.
Once the two took their places, a white pawn advanced two squares.
Harry's play—far below Ron's—fell behind from the start. When the first black piece was captured, the white piece smashed it to fragments without mercy and hurled the shards off the board, making Harry's knees knock together in fright.
Afraid Neville would suffer the same fate, Harry grew even more cautious, sacrificing quite a few pieces to protect him.
But his efforts were in vain. The White Queen swept up in front of Neville, raised her stone arms, and brought them crashing down toward Neville's shoulders.
In that perilous instant, Neville forgot this was supposed to be a game of Wizard's Chess. By reflex he drew out the spiked mace Gran had long since prepared for him and swung it up.
The White Queen might have been hewn from stone, but before Neville's monstrous strength she was no match.
With that single swing, Neville not only blocked her strike but countered in the same motion, shattering the White Queen.
Harry had already clapped both hands over his eyes, unable to watch the carnage he expected. But after a loud crash, Neville's delighted voice rang out across the board.
"Harry! I think I know how we're supposed to play this!"
Harry whipped his head around and saw Neville unhurt—and the White Queen reduced to rubble.
Seeing the mace in Neville's hand, Harry understood Neville's idea at once. He changed his approach and had Neville charge straight across the enemy's ranks and go directly for the White King.
Neville's rule-breaking enraged the remaining white pieces. They swarmed him to drive him off the board.
Neville stood his ground, unafraid, brandishing the mace and preparing to counter while defending.
With every sweep of the mace, wind howled; white pieces were wounded if they were merely grazed and smashed if they were struck. What should have been a dignified game of Wizard's Chess turned into a street brawl.
Just as Harry was cheering Neville on, the black pieces suddenly slipped out of Harry's control.
The unexpected strike from the black pieces caught Neville off guard; he took a few nasty blows, frightening Harry into drawing his wand and rushing forward to help.
But Neville's hide was thick, and he barely felt it. The hits only fired him up. Abandoning his static defense, he hefted the mace and charged the pieces down.
By the time Harry reached him, every piece on the board had been smashed to rubble, leaving only a carpet of stone fragments.
Neville, for his part, was merely a bit spent, leaning on his mace and breathing hard.
Harry moved to help him up.
"Harry, don't come over. I'm fine—just a bit winded. Give me a moment."
Startled by the shout, Harry froze, not understanding why Neville didn't want him near.
The truth was that, without the auto-training suit to assist him, Neville's control over his strength was normally fine in everyday situations. But during that furious onslaught, to topple the pieces as quickly as possible he'd been forced to go all out, smashing them to powder and exhausting himself to the point he couldn't stand steady.
In his current state, his strength control was poor. If Harry touched him now to help, Neville could easily hurt him by accident.
Seeing Harry stop, Neville relaxed. Still gripping the mace in one hand, he reached into his robe with the other, pulled out a potion, and downed it.
The draught took effect quickly; the weariness drained from his limbs.
After a little while, once he could control his body again, he stowed the mace and called to Harry to go open the door.
Harry, who had been standing there at a loss, hurried after him. They soon reached the door.
It wasn't locked; it swung open with a light push.
Harry had worried that, because they hadn't won the game the proper way, the door would be sealed.
They exchanged a look, then dashed through, racing down the next corridor until they came to another doorway.
This time Neville took the lead and pushed the door open.
But the instant it opened, a nauseating stench rushed out. The two clapped their sleeves over their noses and mouths.
Through watery eyes, they saw a mountain troll sprawled nearby—bigger than any troll they had seen before.
It lay motionless on the floor, unconscious, with a bloody gash on its head.
"Good—no need to fight this one," Neville said, carefully stepping over the troll's thick leg to avoid getting its smell on his clothes. "I could beat it, but its stink would beat me even easier."
Harry gave Neville a push from behind. "Hurry up—I can hardly breathe."
Urged on, they quickly crossed the room. Whatever came next had to be better than this.
The next room surprised them. Inside, there was nothing threatening—just a table with seven bottles of different shapes arranged upon it.
"This is Professor Snape's challenge. What do we do?" Neville turned to Harry.
"We got through Professor Sprout's obstacle—the Devil's Snare—and Professor Flitwick's enchanted keys. The chessboard must be Professor McGonagall's; she bewitched the pieces. Professor Quirrell left that troll. And Snape set this one. This should be the last test—once we pass it, we'll reach the Philosopher's Stone."
Harry's voice grew louder and steadier as he spoke, as if to cheer himself on. Then he grabbed Neville and stepped into the room.
As soon as they crossed the threshold, purple flames roared up behind them, sealing the doorway. At the same time, black fire sprang up at the door ahead. They were trapped between.
Neville, whose eyesight was better than Harry's, spotted a parchment on the table, hurried to it, and Harry followed. Together they read:
"Danger lies ahead, safety behind.
Among us are two that can help you.
Drink them: one will lead you forward,
the other will send you back where you came.
Two of us hold nettle wine,
three are killers waiting in line.
Here are some clues to help you choose:
First, no matter how slyly the poison hides,
it always stands to the left of the nettle wine;
Second, if you wish to go forward, none of us will harm you;
Third, you'll find the bottles are of unequal size—
neither the giant nor the dwarf hides death inside;
Fourth, the second from the left and the second from the right…"
After finishing the parchment, Harry and Neville looked at each other, both seeing only confusion in the other's eyes. Neither knew what to do next.
//Check out my P@tre0n for 20 extra chapters on all my fanfics //[email protected]/Razeil0810