"I'm fine, it's nothing," Harry said, sweat beading on his forehead, but he forced himself to stand up. "More importantly, we have to keep going. We can't let Snape—"
He clutched his left arm, trying to keep it from moving, but the intense pain made him want to cry.
"...Stop staring at me and open the door!" Harry said anxiously.
The next room was pitch black; they couldn't see a thing. But before Hermione could use magic, a series of wall-mounted oil lamps suddenly lit up, illuminating the room. The scene inside, however, made all three of them gasp.
"Oh—good heavens!" Ron exclaimed. "This—this is..."
It was no wonder they were surprised. The room was quite spacious, and it was almost entirely occupied by a giant chessboard.
What shocked them the most, however, was how unique this chessboard was.
"...Ron, is this the Wizard Battle Chess that Marcel gave you for Christmas?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide.
"I'm sure he gave it to more than just me," Ron said numbly.
Harry, clutching his arm, said with difficulty, "Ron, I remember you're brilliant at Wizard's Chess. Do you think..."
"No, not a chance. Absolutely impossible," Ron said loudly. "This battle chess that Marcel invented is terrifying. It's not a test of skill, but of luck!"
"But we have to pass this challenge—" Harry said, then suddenly stared at a square on the opposite side of the board. "Look, what's that!"
Hermione and Ron quickly looked up—bloodstains!
"Oh, Snape must have been injured when he was trying to get past this!" Ron said.
"Yes, even when Marcel isn't here, he's still helping us," Hermione murmured. "Marcel gave him a good one!"
But Ron shook his head. "Marcel gave him a good one, but he'll probably give us one too—"
"Alright, it's no use thinking about it anymore. We have to go!" Harry said firmly, though his voice trembled slightly. The pain in his arm was constantly sending signals to his brain.
"Well—there's no other way," said Ron. "I'm more familiar with it. You two follow my lead. It's the only way."
"We'll each take the place of a wizard piece! Remember, wizards are the most numerous but also the weakest pieces. We have to use the effects of various cards to boost our abilities and rely on terrain, positioning, and combined attacks to make sure we don't get killed."
"As long as we can break through the opponent's defensive formation with the help of the other powerful pieces and capture their castle while resisting their counterattacks, we'll win!"
"Let's do it, then!" Harry said, forcing himself to walk forward. "I trust you, Ron. You're always better at chess than I am."
"Oh, Harry, are you—alright?" Hermione asked worriedly.
"I'm fine. Alright, Ron, let's begin!"
"Okay, Wizard w5, move forward two spaces! Giant w3, move forward three spaces..."
As the game began, the various pieces on the board came to life. Dragons flapped their wings, giants brandished their clubs, griffins occasionally flew up and circled in place, and even the other wizard pieces had vivid expressions and movements.
If regular Wizard's Chess was just a moving version of international chess, then the battle chess that Marcel invented had the true feel of a fantasy movie.
"Roar—"
Under Ron's control, a Hebridean Black dragon dived, spewing crimson flames from its mouth and incinerating two wizard pieces in its attack range.
"Oh—" Hermione watched the scene in fear, not daring to imagine what would have happened if she had been there.
"Don't worry!" said Ron. "The difficulty level here doesn't seem to be set very high. They'll make mistakes too!"
In fact, Ron's chess skills were indeed quite good. After a while, they were finally close to the opponent's castle.
"Oh no!"
Just as Hermione was starting to relax, Ron's "oh no" made her heart leap into her throat again.
"What is it, Ron?" Harry could barely stay conscious from the pain. He tried to make his voice as loud as possible.
"I miscalculated a few steps, um—" he stopped after a few words. "No, it's fine, no problem!"
"Harry, go to the square in front of the castle. Every turn from now on, you have to attack the castle gate! No matter what happens, don't stop, no matter what!" Ron shouted.
After speaking to Harry, he turned to Hermione beside him. "Hermione, you go to the square on the side of the castle gate. While attacking the gate, prevent the opponent's wizards from attacking Harry."
"What about you?" Hermione asked.
"I have to lure away the opponent's last centaur archer," he said. "Don't worry, I still have an armored knight on my side. I'll be fine!"
Ron's words were brave, but the reality was not so simple.
The opposing centaur archer was indeed blocked by the armored knight and would need at least three turns to defeat it. But on the other side, a highly mobile Hippogriff was charging towards him. It was almost too late.
"The gate is broken!" Harry suddenly shouted. "I've captured it!"
At the same time, the Hippogriff knocked Ron into the air! Just before he was hit, he shouted one last thing.
"Keep going, Harry!"
"Levicorpus!" Hermione immediately raised her wand, but she was only able to catch Ron, who was already airborne.
"Oh—poor Ron. He's been knocked out."
Harry had now captured the castle. Ron had won, but he couldn't go on.
The opposing magical creature pieces turned back into stone statues, and the wizard pieces all took off their hats in a salute to Ron. Behind the chessboard, the massive stone door automatically opened.
Harry and Hermione gave Ron one last, sad look, then rushed through the door and down the next corridor.
"Will he be—"
"He'll be alright," Harry said, gritting his teeth, trying to convince himself as well. "What do you think is next?"
"We've passed Sprout's trap, the Devil's Snare; Flitwick must have bewitched the keys; McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive... That leaves Quirrell's spell, and Snape's."
As they spoke, they came to another door.
"Are you still okay, Harry?" Hermione asked, looking at him with concern.
"I'm fine. We have to keep going, at least for Ron's sake," Harry said bravely.
The moment they pushed the door open, they were driven back several steps by a familiar smell from inside. It was a nauseating stench. They had to pull their robes up to cover their noses.
Tears welled up in their eyes from the smell. Through their blurry, tear-filled vision, they saw a troll.
It was even bigger than the one they had seen before, lying motionless on the floor, unconscious, with a large, bloody lump on its head.
"Good, we don't have to fight this one," Harry said weakly.
They carefully stepped over the troll's thick legs.
"Let's go, I can't breathe."
When Hermione pushed open the next door, she didn't see anything more terrifying. In this room, there was only a table.
On the table, seven bottles of different shapes were arranged neatly.
"This must be Snape's," said Harry. "What do we do?"
The moment they crossed the threshold, flames shot up behind them, sealing the doorway. These were no ordinary flames; they were purple. At the same time, black flames sprang up in the doorway leading forward.
They found themselves trapped in the middle.
"Look!" Hermione said, picking up a roll of parchment lying next to the bottles. "This—it's a logic puzzle!"
Hermione read it quietly, then let out a long breath. Harry was surprised to see her smile. He certainly couldn't manage a smile himself.
"Brilliant," said Hermione. "This has got nothing to do with magic—it's logic! A lot of wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck in here forever."
"But what about us?" Harry asked, panting.
"Of course not," said Hermione. "Everything we need is on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire, and the other will get us back through the purple."
"But how do we know which to drink?"
"Give me a minute."
Hermione read the paper again several times. She walked back and forth in front of the line of bottles, muttering to herself and pointing at one or another.
Finally, she clapped her hands happily, looking absolutely adorable.
"Got it," she said. "The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire—towards the Stone."
Harry looked at the inconspicuous little bottle and couldn't help but say, "There's only enough for one of us."
Hermione looked at Harry, hesitated for a moment, then pointed to the round bottle on the far right. "This one will get you back through the purple fire."
"Harry, you have to drink it—"
"—No, I should be the one to go! I have to!" Harry stood up straight, trying to make himself look better.
"Harry!" Hermione raised her eyebrows and looked at him seriously. "Listen to me!"
"You're badly injured right now. Even if you go, you won't be able to stop Snape! But I'm fine. Even if I can't, I can run away."
"And you, right now, immediately! Go to the room with the flying keys and get a broom—if Ron wakes up, get him too—and then go to the Owlery and send a letter to Dumbledore! No matter what, I will do my best to stall Snape, using any means necessary. And you! Go!"
After speaking, Hermione grabbed the smallest bottle, downed it in one go, and then walked towards the black flames.
"I still remember that day in the library," she said as she walked. "Marcel said I was a Gryffindor, the cleverest Gryffindor. I don't think I'll let his confidence in me become a joke."
Harry couldn't quite figure out whether Hermione was talking to him or to herself.