When Madam Pomfrey suddenly had to treat so many injured students, she initially thought that a dark wizard army had invaded Hogwarts. Fortunately, for wizards, broken limbs were a relatively minor issue, and she quickly took care of them.
The real problem was Harry Potter, who remained unconscious. After discussing with Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey arranged a private room for him.
Wade shared the packed food with the others—it was only then that they realized just how starving they were. As the young wizards devoured their food, they filled Wade in on what had happened beneath the trapdoor.
To protect the Philosopher's Stone, the school's professors had set up numerous traps.
The first was a Devil's Snare beneath the trapdoor, which cushioned their fall and prevented them from dying on impact. Unfortunately, Neville landed badly and broke his leg, so he had to stay behind while the others continued.
Next, they had to capture the correct flying key from a flock of enchanted keys. Harry, using his Seeker skills, managed to catch the key, but Theo got cut up badly by the other keys while trying to protect the group.
Then came a dangerous game of Wizard's Chess. Ron won the match but was knocked unconscious by a heavy blow to the head from one of the opposing pieces. He still hadn't woken up.
Following that, they faced a giant troll, larger and more ferocious than the one they had encountered during Halloween. The young wizards used every trick they knew to defeat it, but Ryan broke his arm in the process, and the others suffered various injuries.
Wade was surprised. "A troll?"
"Yes, a foul-smelling troll," Theo sighed. "I can't believe you lot defeated one without a scratch half a year ago!"
"If the troll was part of Quirrell's trap, then the one we faced at Halloween must have been released by him to cause chaos," Michael added. "I heard he even pretended to faint back then!"
Wade frowned but didn't say much.
—The original trio didn't encounter a troll.
Is this a butterfly effect, or...?
"The final challenge was a room filled with fire," Hermione said, and her lips trembled slightly. "Professor Snape had left two potions—one to move forward, one to go back, and the rest were either poison or nettle wine."
"I solved Snape's riddle, and Harry chose to move forward. The rest of us each took a sip of the potion and went back to find Ron and Neville. After that... well, you know the rest."
She tightly twisted her fingers, her voice still calm, rational, and organized. However, her hair seemed to stand slightly on end, and her body was as tense as a fully drawn bowstring.
"Hermione!" Padma suddenly leaned over and hugged Hermione. "Don't worry... and don't blame yourself. Facing that person was Harry's choice. It's not your fault... and he will recover, right?"
She gently pulled Hermione's hands apart, revealing that the back of her hands was covered in scratches, self-inflicted.
"You don't understand, Padma."
Hermione leaned against Padma's shoulder, and without warning, tears started to fall.
Choking on her words, she said, "The trapdoor led to a bottomless drop, and Harry jumped in first without knowing that the Devil's Snare would catch us... He even said... if anything happened to him, we should immediately go back... I really..."
Padma gently stroked her back, slowly realizing why Hermione was crying now.
It wasn't just the worry over their unconscious friend... but also the overwhelming fear and helplessness that had been buried deep within, now surfacing after returning to safety, from watching a friend willingly face death...
She glanced around at the others—the boys weren't crying, but there was something different in their expressions... as if, silently and unnoticed, they had all gone through some kind of transformation...
Suddenly, a commotion came from the door—
"No, Potter hasn't woken up yet. No visitors allowed!" Madam Pomfrey said sternly.
"Ma'am, we came to see Theo and Ryan—we're all from Hufflepuff," someone at the door pleaded.
"...Alright, but no noise," Madam Pomfrey relented.
A bustling crowd squeezed in through the doorway—likely students who had seen Theo and the others, injured, flying through the corridors on broomsticks, and had rushed over to find out what had happened.
While the injured were surrounded by the "visitors," Michael exchanged a glance with Wade—since both of them were unharmed, they were largely ignored by the others, who assumed they were mere spectators.
Taking advantage of this, the two quietly slipped out of the hospital wing.
"I want to go back to the chamber."
Once outside, Michael exhaled and said to Wade, "Now that Dumbledore has brought Harry out, the flames blocking the path might have disappeared... I want to see what happened in the final chamber."
Wade said, "We'll go together."
"Of course." Michael smiled. "I figured you'd be curious as well—about how Harry Potter managed to escape danger once again."
In truth, Wade wasn't particularly curious. He just… wanted to see for himself.
The traps under the trapdoor had been almost completely destroyed. The two of them, riding broomsticks, easily passed through the stone corridor and the brightly lit rooms, reaching the final destination.
It was a fairly spacious room, with an arched ceiling and tall stone columns embedded in the walls. Remnants of flames still flickered around the room.
In the center stood a massive mirror with an ornate golden frame, carved with inscriptions, supported by two clawed feet at its base.
"Look, Wade."
Michael suddenly crouched down and poked at a wizard's robe lying near the steps with his wand. He said quietly, "If I'm not mistaken, this is Professor Quirrell's robe—look, the scarf's still here—"
His words abruptly stopped. His eyes widened in shock as he stared at the ash wrapped within the robe, and took stiff steps backward.
Wade, on the other hand, stepped forward. He conjured a cylindrical bottle and collected some of the ash from the ground.
"Wade!" Michael's scalp prickled, and he exclaimed in a high-pitched voice, "Do you know what that is?"
"Professor Quirrell's remains—also the vessel of the Dark Lord."
Wade sealed the bottle and looked at the grayish ash inside. "Who knows, it might come in handy."
Suddenly, as if something had been awakened, a chilling voice echoed from all directions—
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust..."
"Disturb the dead, and the living shall die... the nameless dead receive no reward..."
"Wade Grey... Michael Corner... do you wish to embark on the journey to eternal rest?"
Michael's legs went weak, and goosebumps covered his entire body. He grabbed Wade's arm, and his face went pale as he stammered, "W-Wade... y-you should just throw that stuff away… right now..."
Wade, too, felt a chill down his spine for a moment, but then he realized something.
"Weasley?"
Wade called out softly.
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