Tver keenly sensed a faint stir coming from the nearby staircase.
If it was a patrolling caretaker or professor, he could simply hide inside.
But if it was someone with the exact same objective, that wouldn’t do.
After a moment’s thought, Tver decided it was safer to hide near the doorway.
Looking left and right, he noticed a recess in one of the walls.
He stepped over into the alcove.
The instant his back pressed against the wall, the stone slowly stretched outward around him, completely encasing Tver inside, leaving only a translucent membrane over his eyes.
A remarkably useful piece of Transfiguration.
Just as everything returned to normal, a furtive figure appeared around the corner.
Though the gloom obscured the man’s face, the prominent, bulky turban on his head immediately gave away his identity: Quirrell.
Tver hadn’t expected him to be so impatient.
Quirrell no longer cowered or twitched as he did in his usual facade.
He strode decisively down the corridor and recognized its oddity right away.
“Lumos.”
The wand tip flared with light, illuminating Quirrell’s eager face.
“Alohomora.”
A door guarding the Philosopher’s Stone could actually be opened with a simple unlocking charm?
How was that any different from leaving a vault at Gringotts unlocked?
Talk about an obvious trap—straight hook, heavy bait.
The wooden door yielded so smoothly that Tver couldn’t help but groan internally.
Even Quirrell paused, hesitating for a couple of seconds before pushing the door open and stepping inside.
What happened next was beyond Tver’s line of sight.
His Transfiguration could only alter the outer surface layer of the wall.
Tampering with the load-bearing stone structure itself would affect the whole framework—something beyond his current capabilities.
He estimated that in the entire wizarding world, only Dumbledore could transfigure a load-bearing wall like that.
Tver didn’t have to wait long before he heard the sounds of spellcasting from within, accompanied by the violent snarls and snapping jaws of a beast.
That had to be the three-headed dog.
Legendary Cerberi were creatures of the underworld, tasked with guarding the gates of Hell.
The magical world’s three-headed dogs were hardly mythical demons, but they were still far beyond the capabilities of an ordinary wizard.
They possessed an immense resistance to magic, making it almost impossible to leave a spell mark on them.
Combined with their colossal physical strength, endless stamina, and boundless energy, they were virtually invincible in an enclosed space. The source of this chapter is g.com.
When faced with a three-headed dog, most wizards operated on the logic of *if you can’t beat it, run*.
Fortunately, Tver happened to know its weakness.
Meanwhile, the battle inside drew to a close, ending with Quirrell fleeing in panic.
Yet Quirrell’s strength somewhat surprised Tver.
The movies had never detailed his true ability; in the end, he had just engaged in melee combat with the Savior and turned to ash without even needing fire.
But just now, Quirrell had gone toe-to-toe with a three-headed dog for several minutes, emerging with nothing more than disheveled robes and no visible injuries.
It seemed his prowess wasn’t to be understated.
Tver sighed internally as he opened the door.
Fresh off the fight, the three-headed dog was about to curl up and rest when, before its three heads could even turn back, it saw another intruder enter.
Who blatantly put a finger to his lips in a shushing motion.
“Shh.”
A harp materialized out of thin air right in front of it and began playing on its own.
The moment the soothing music drifted through the air, the beast’s eyelids began to droop.
It tried to resist, but after its heavy heads nodded off twice, it gave up and collapsed heavily onto the floor.
Tver nudged aside the dog’s paw blocking the trapdoor and pulled it open, staring down into an abyss far darker than the corridor outside.
“Lumos.”
A bright orb of light formed at the tip of his wand, detaching at its peak luminosity.
As the glowing orb descended, its light revealed a tangled mass of writhing vines below.
Devil’s Snare.
It thrived in dark, damp environments, extending snake-like tendrils to entangle anyone who drew near, strangling them to death before devouring them.
But the vines seemed terrified of the light.
Before the orb could even touch them, the tendrils parted hastily, letting the sphere sink freely.
Using a Levitation Charm on himself, Tver drifted smoothly through the gap in the Devil’s Snare, landing softly on the stone floor deep below.
Before him stretched a long, damp, straight corridor, accompanied by the faint trickling sound of subterranean water.
He was likely deep underground now.
The corridor remained pitch-black, but a bright radiance glowed further ahead.
Tver strode forward with his Wand-Lighting Charm leading the way.
Each chamber protecting the Philosopher’s Stone was crafted by one of the professors.
As a teaching assistant, Tver naturally hadn’t been invited to contribute. Find the original chapter at g.com.
The Devil’s Snare was the handiwork of Professor Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff.
The next chamber was Professor Flitwick’s masterpiece: a flock of glittering, silver-winged “birds” flitting about the room.
The door on the other side could no longer be unlocked with magic; a seeker had to catch the one correct key among them to unlock it.
A broomstick had even been thoughtfully provided on the side.
Seeing it, Tver couldn’t help but twitch his lips slightly.
Over the past few years, he had been entirely focused on mastering magic.
Combined with his complete lack of talent for flying, he had rarely experienced a smooth ride on a broomstick.
But he had his own methods.
Casting a spell directly on the key was useless, but what if he used magic to physically seize it?
Tver scanned the swarming keys until he spotted the large, antique silver key that matched the door lock.
Waving his wand, a small stream of purple fire shot from its tip, darting forward like a rope toward his target.
Sensing the sinister aura within the purple flame, the keys—including the correct one—scattered in panic.
But the flame pursued it as if alive, looping around twice to bind the key tightly.
Strangely, the purple fire showed none of its scorching heat; like an ordinary rope, it merely tied up the key.
Key in hand, Tver unlocked the door to the next stage.
Such an almost childish obstacle course invited criticism, yet it was an open trap—a ploy laid out in full view.
Even knowing it was bait, Tver had no choice but to step into it.
The next room contained a giant chessboard.
The black and white pieces stood in strict formation on opposing sides, waiting for Tver’s commands.
The problem was, Tver didn’t know how to play chess.
As mentioned before, his relentless focus on magical studies over the past few years left him woefully inept at recreation and games.
Still, this was within Tver’s expectations.
He had come today simply to confirm whether the trials matched the ones in the movie.
It seemed his small butterfly wings hadn’t altered the layout here.
With time growing late, Tver retraced his steps through the familiar route, returning to his office.
Still, the chessboard problem needed solving.
Brute force was the easiest solution, but it was hard to believe Professor McGonagall hadn’t left behind some subtle warning charm.
Explaining himself then would be tricky.
It seemed he’d need to learn how to play Wizard’s Chess.