Extimum: "Isolamento!"
**Skeeeeeshhhh**
A screeching sound, like an abrupt brake, echoed—and then everything seemed to freeze for a moment.
Without hesitation, Extimum ducked down and picked up the lock that had fallen from the door, then ran to the other side.
As soon as he crossed over, Ron shut the door behind him, while Harry and Hermione pressed against it, uncertain of what would happen.
**Creak**
The sound of cracking glass came from the other side.
Acting quickly, Extimum took the lock he had picked up and placed it by the hole in the door, then pointed his wand.
Extimum: "Repligamen unionis."
The metal lock in his hand seemed to come to life and once again fitted into the hole in the door. A faint glow ran across the surface of the door, and then...
** Creak **
** Bam Bam Bam Bam Bam **
Loud, heavy banging came from the other side. The door trembled continuously, but it held until finally, everything went quiet.
Silence.
They all exchanged a glance, still on high alert, and only after a few seconds did they slowly step away from the door, releasing relieved sighs.
Besides relief, Extimum also felt a slight spark of satisfaction, mixed with guilt. It seemed that in an attempt to rush things, he had only made them worse—but luckily, he had managed to contain the consequences.
Which led to that bit of satisfaction. The spell Isolamento—one of his latest creations—was just as flawed as the others, but had a surprising effect. In theory, the spell was supposed to isolate space for a few seconds; however, so far, its results seemed to freeze everything in place.
It required extreme concentration and was impractical in a duel, but just like now, it had its uses.
Ron: "That was terrifying."
Harry: "You said it. Maybe... I should've tried to grab the key?"
Hermione: "It's hard to tell what would've happened if you had. Maybe the same thing."
Extimum: "That doesn't matter now. We're already here. Let's keep going."
Things hadn't gone as he expected, but based on what they'd seen so far, it wasn't safe to assume otherwise either. After all, the level of danger they had faced was quite high—nothing like what it was supposed to be.
They continued walking down the new hallway ahead of them.
Some doubts had begun to rise in their minds after only three trials, but none of them seemed willing to give up.
Soon after, large black iron doors appeared in front of them.
Approaching, Ron pushed the heavy doors open.
**Chirkkk**
A soft screech of rusted metal escaped from the doors as they gave way, revealing the interior of the chamber they had reached.
A dark hall, filled with what seemed to be tall figures, statues, and scattered rubble. The interior lighting was dim, the only illumination coming from the hallway behind them, making it hard to see properly inside.
They slowly entered the hall, alertly observing their surroundings. Even Extimum, who recognized where they were, didn't fully relax—it was impossible to know if everything would be the same.
**Chirkkk**
Once they were far enough in, the doors behind them screeched again and closed shut.
Hermione: "I don't like this... all those statues... it feels so eerie."
Harry: "Is this... a graveyard?"
Extimum: "As extravagant and magical as Hogwarts is, having a graveyard inside the castle would be a whole new level."
Ron: "It's not a graveyard... it's a chessboard."
The more Ron looked at it, the more he recognized the familiar layout. His eyes lit up as he took in the colossal pieces, and with excitement, he stepped toward the center of the board.
As he entered, flames roared across the frame of the board, lighting up the previously dark hall.
Harry: "There's the door."
With the darkness finally cleared, the outline of a large door on the other side of the board became visible.
Harry and Hermione were the first to attempt heading straight for it. They ignored how strange and easy it seemed that they could just continue forward, even with the whole scene already set.
Extimum: "Wait. You don't seriously think it's that simple, do you?"
Harry: "Uhh... isn't it?"
Extimum: "Of course not. This room literally screams that it's another trial. Look."
Reaching into the pouch hanging from his waist, he pulled out a stone and threw it toward the door.
The stone sailed through the air straight toward the door, but as it neared one of the statues, the statue suddenly came to life and moved immediately. Drawing the sword at its waist, it sliced through the stone with precision, letting two clean halves fall before it.
The trio stared in stunned silence at the two halves of the stone on the floor.
As for why Extimum carried stones in his bag... well, you never knew when you'd need to throw one, right? And since he had an expandable pouch, it wasn't much of a concern.
Hermione: "That's dangerous."
Harry: "So... what do we do now?"
Ron: "It's obvious. This is chess. We just have to play to get across". He said it excitedly, though his enthusiasm quickly faded as he frowned.
"The problem is we're missing three pieces: the bishop, the queen, and the knight."
"Hermione, you better not play. This'll be really dangerous, and you saw how that statue sliced the stone."
Hermione: "Alright... I'll wait for you to finish". Though a bit reluctant, she didn't try to argue. It really did seem very dangerous.
Ron: "Harry, you take the bishop. Extimum will take the queen. And I'll take... the knight."
Extimum blinked silently. This was an unexpected development—but thinking it over, it made sense. He had originally intended to watch from the sidelines, acting as a backup to intercept deadly attacks from the opposing pieces.
Now, however, his role had become that of an active piece, bound by the rules of the game.
Still, this wasn't necessarily a bad development. He didn't want Hermione to be in danger, and by replacing her, he kept her away from any threats during the game. At the same time, Ron would worry less about moving him during the match.
For that reason, he didn't object to Ron's plan.
With the decision made, he pulled a wooden sword from his pouch and walked over to the queen's square.
Ron: "Where are you getting all that stuff? And why are you carrying something like that?"
Ron couldn't help but ask. The stone still made sense, but the wooden sword was clearly way too big for the pouch—it shouldn't fit under normal circumstances.
Harry: "Yeah, I've seen you pull a bunch of stuff out of that bag, but pulling out a sword? That's kind of over the top."
Hermione: "It's an expandable pouch. It's enchanted to hold many objects inside. They're a bit rare, but they work just like some trunks used at Hogwarts. They're just more expensive."
Ron: "Oh, I've never seen one before, but... why a wooden sword?"
Extimum: "I practice fencing. Every morning, before most people wake up. Not many have seen me."
Harry: "That's brilliant—but can you fight with that? I mean, it's wood, right?"
Extimum: "It's not the best for cutting, but it shouldn't be a problem for smashing or breaking the chess pieces."
Hermione frowned slightly at that comment, but since they were just statues—and very dangerous ones at that—she didn't say anything.
Ron: "Alright, Harry, go to your position."
Harry and Ron went to their respective places and waited.
Hermione: "Nothing's... happening?"
Ron: "You have to be patient. White moves first."
As if to prove his point, just as he finished speaking, all the white statues began to tremble.
**Crack**
A low sound, like rocks grinding together, came from the statues, and then they began to move, standing tall on their towers, with a regal and deadly air.
Their features gained lifelike touches, and even their pale, metallic eyes seemed to take on a faint glow. Their stony exteriors also took on a realistic level of detail they hadn't had before.
** Hooo Hooo Hooo ** ** Battle cry **
All the white pieces raised their weapons and let out a fierce battle cry before returning to stillness.
Ron: "*Gulp* I didn't think... this version... would be so realistic."
Extimum: "Calm down. You won't get anywhere by panicking right now. Just do what you know—play well."
A second later, a white pawn made the first move. Its gaze was that of a true warrior marching into battle—fearless, even defiant toward the black pieces.
Seeing this left Harry momentarily speechless. Hermione even covered her eyes, only to peek between her fingers.
Ron focused as it became his turn. Since he was the best and most experienced player among them, he would be the one to command the pieces.
While Ron analyzed his next move, the black pieces also stirred and, like the whites, seemed to come to life.
** Hooo Hooo Hooo ** ** Battle cry **
That war cry gave Ron a bit more confidence.
Ron: "Hey you, Pawn, move to C5."
Pawn x: "Hail the King and glory in the blood of our enemies!". The pawn moved from its square, shouting out loud—a literal war cry.
Harry: "They can talk too...?"
Extimum: 'Yeah... this definitely shouldn't be like this. Sigh... Professor Flitwick must've helped McGonagall give the game this level of realism.'
Extimum tightened his grip on the wooden sword. Depending on how the game unfolded, these new additions could either make it more dangerous... or more convenient.
The game resumed with white's next move. No pieces had been taken yet, as Ron was being more cautious after seeing how realistic the statues were.
Relincho Relincho
One of the white knights jumped forward, leaping over the other pieces and landing noisily in position. The board didn't seem fazed by the heavy impact.
The white knight's new position threatened a black pawn on the next turn.
...
Bishop x: "My King, our soldiers are dying—you must aid them!"
...
Rook x: "My King, we've struck a great blow to the enemy troops. It would be wiser to corner them from the other side."
...
Pawn x: "I will serve my King even in death... agh..."
** Crash **
...
Ron did the best he could commanding the game. Some pieces gave advice, others made casual remarks. The realism was creating psychological pressure.
Fortunately, the pieces hadn't lost their spirit, and even in death, their cries were filled with loyalty. Otherwise, even though there was no blood, their deaths would have been far more disturbing.
** SmashCrash **
Each move brought new risks. The magical chess set seemed to be operating with an intelligence far beyond what they expected—so much so that even Ron, a skilled player, was struggling.
** Ahhhh ** "For the King!"
Another difficulty was that Ron hesitated to move the pieces occupied by Harry, Extimum, or himself. He had only moved them to threaten positions and would then pull them back, costing him turns and preventing certain strategies that might've sped up the game.
Extimum hadn't moved more than twice the entire match and served mainly as a deterrent. The game was dangerous, but at this pace, they might end up losing—and the gains wouldn't be worth the risk.
Extimum: "Ron, stop holding me back. Don't worry about me—send me in. The queen piece is the most versatile. You can't keep repressing your plays by just avoiding using it."
Hermione: "Are you crazy? Didn't you see what happened to the pieces that were defeated?"
Harry: "Yeah, it's too dangerous to go right into the front line."
Extimum: "Ron, don't listen to them. Just do it. I'm not here to throw my life away."
Ron: "Alright. Queen to Knight B5."
Extimum walked toward the knight. When he was in front of it, he gathered strength in his legs and leapt forward, brandishing his wooden sword through the air and shattering the knight's head along with part of its rider.
** Swish **
** Bam puff **
Extimum was fast. The realism of the game allowed the pieces to defend themselves, but so far, every piece that was supposed to die had died. So Extimum didn't know whether it was even possible to break that status quo.
Harry: "Wow... he broke it like it was nothing..."
Ron and Hermione were also impressed, remembering what happened that day they fought the troll. Extimum had shown immense strength, but they had simply dismissed it—after all, they hadn't seen him display that kind of power since then. And normally, his strength seemed a bit average.
After making his move, a white bishop advanced and directly threatened Extimum's square.
Extimum: 'Alright then, time to break this game.'
Feeling a surge of adrenaline, Extimum shouted:
Extimum: "Ron, ignore that bishop. Just keep playing!"
Ron: "No way—that's too dangerous."
Extimum: "Then I'll make the move myself."
Extimum: "Rook X to F4."
He spoke it tentatively. He didn't know if the game would respond to anyone other than Ron, who had initiated it—but luckily, the piece moved.
And just as they feared, the white bishop moved toward Extimum and stopped in front of him.
Extimum: 'I'll find out for myself whether I can break the game from within its own rules.'He only dared to try this trick because the situation allowed for it—but he wouldn't have rushed blindly into the pieces to clear a path. His attempt to do that with the flying keys hadn't ended well. But doing so during the game was different.
Besides, he trusted his strength and instincts to defend or dodge attacks without stepping off his square.
The bishop finally moved. Standing atop the small pedestal that held all the pieces, it brought its staff down in a powerful swing from above.
Hermione: "Aahh!". Hermione cried out, alarmed, as the bishop attacked.
Extimum waited for the moment the staff dropped and sidestepped it with a slight movement. He immediately jumped up, swinging his sword toward the bishop—but the bishop recovered its staff quickly and tried to strike Extimum from behind.
Using the tight space to his advantage, Extimum stepped on the incoming staff and thrust his sword through the bishop's head.
After finishing, Extimum landed back on his original square.
Harry: "Can he really do that?"
Ron: "Huh... That shouldn't be possible. It's... well, not against the rules, but it definitely breaks the usual logic of how a piece defeats another."
Extimum: "Alright, let's keep going. Ron, think you can finish this?"
Ron: "Yeah. Let's end this game. Pawn X to D3."
...
With this new method of defeating pieces, the game completely changed. An enemy move against Extimum became the equivalent of launching a suicide attack.
...
Ron: "Checkmate."
The white army had only one pawn and the King left when they were fully surrounded.
Ron: "Whew, that was intense."
Black Pieces: "The glory of our King has conquered our enemies!"
As the victory cheers ended, the doors behind where the white king had stood swung open.
Extimum: "That was actually a lot of fun."
Extimum had truly enjoyed destroying the white pieces. At first, he'd been a bit hesitant about his actions—but over time, he simply destroyed the enemies the moment they arrived. Although they fought back fiercely, none of them could match Extimum's speed.
At one point, even Harry had stepped onto the board—but Extimum had backed him up to prevent him from being attacked.
Harry: "Let's keep going."
...
They all moved toward the now-open doors and continued on.
Shortly after, they reached another chamber—but the moment they stepped inside, they were surrounded by a ring of fire.
It didn't look like normal fire. The flames behind them burned with a purple hue, while the ones ahead were black.
In the center of the room stood a table with seven bottles of different sizes and colors, along with a scroll.
Its contents were unknown, but Extimum could smell wine coming from the second and sixth bottles.
Ron: "There's no way out. That's magical fire created by elixirs."
The others gave Ron a curious look at his comment.
Ron: "Don't look at me like that, I do know things. This fire is different from regular spell fire. If you don't know what it's made of, there's no way to put it out... I know from experience. My brothers once played with elixir fire for a prank and nearly burned the house down when they couldn't extinguish it."
Hermione: "The scroll has a riddle". She commented after giving it a quick glance, then began reading it aloud.
"Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,One among us seven will let you move ahead,Another will take the drinker back instead,Two among our number hold only nettle wine,Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in a line.Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore.To help you in your choice, we give you these four clues:
First, however sly the poison tries to hideYou'll always find some on the left side of nettle wine; Second, different are those at the ends,But if you wish to go forward, none of them are your friends; Third, as you clearly see, all are of different size:Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides; Fourth, the second left and the second on the rightAre twins once you taste them, though different at first sight."
Ron: "I'm not good at riddles, so I'll leave this to you."
Harry: "Same here."
Hermione: "It doesn't look too hard. It's just logic. I'll figure it out with a bit of time."
Extimum: "It doesn't matter if we solve it. What's clear is that only two of us can leave—one goes forward, the other goes back—which suggests the other two have to stay behind or find another way out."
"However, I brought something that might help us get out."
He rummaged through his pouch and pulled out four fire-resistance amulets. He hadn't prepared many since he had little time.
Extimum: "Still, I don't know if they'll work—so it's better to test them before we use them ourselves."
Harry: "That pouch is seriously useful. You've got almost everything in there."
Extimum: "Well, not really. I just prepared some things I thought might be useful before we came. The space inside is also limited, but yeah—I've got a lot. Alright, let's test the amulets."
Extimum activated a talisman and guided it with magic toward the door ahead. As it reached the area of the black fire, a barrier formed around it, shielding it from the flames—but it didn't last long. It was quickly consumed by the black flames along with the amulet.
Ron: "We won't be able to get out?". Ron exclaimed upon seeing the amulet immediately destroyed by the fire.
While they tested the talisman, Hermione focused on solving the riddle.
Extimum: "Calm down. We haven't tested the exit fire yet."
Extimum repeated the process with the purple fire, but this time the barrier held.
Harry: "Nice... At least we can go back if something goes wrong."
Not far from them, Hermione observed the bottles on the table closely. She'd already checked them several times, scanning them visually. She didn't dare smell their contents since the scroll had warned that some contained poison.
Her brows were furrowed over her lovely face.
"Left of the wine... ends are different... the dwarf and the giant..."Her fingers moved from bottle to bottle as if they were chess pieces.
Her constant motion was making Ron uneasy, and the beads of sweat gathering on his forehead due to the heat didn't help. The only thing keeping him somewhat calm was the thought that Extimum's amulets might get them out.
Ron: "What if you're wrong?"
Hermione: "I'm not wrong". She said firmly, though her foot nervously tapped against the stone floor.
The fire crackled louder, casting dancing shadows across their faces. It was hot.
Extimum watched them silently. The heat was suffocating, but it didn't bother him too much.
He had smelled the wine the moment he entered the room, and after hearing the riddle, he had already figured it out on his own.
His attention was elsewhere: on the fire. Both the path forward and the one behind were completely engulfed in flames. Even though he knew the path they'd come from, it was hard to tell how far the flames ahead extended.
Hermione: "Alright..."—Straightening her back, she swallowed to soothe her dry throat and continued—"I think I've got it. The third one, the smallest, lets us go forward. The seventh, tall and thin, takes us back. The rest... wine and poison."
Ron: "Are you sure?"
Hermione: "I am"
The four exchanged a look.
Harry: "I'll go". He said without hesitation.
Ron: "We don't know what's on the other side. It could be a trap. I think Extimum should go—he's better at fighting than either of us."
Harry: "No. I'm the one who started this, so I should be the one to finish it."
Hermione pressed her lips together, looking between Ron and Harry. Extimum remained silent, though a faint gleam flickered in his eyes.
Hermione: "If you go, we'll head back,"—She said at last—"But... will you be alright?"
Harry: "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. Instead, send a message to Dumbledore—we need him to help us."
Ron wasn't fully convinced by Harry's decision, but he said nothing more.
Harry didn't give them time to argue. He took one of the potions from Hermione's hand, drank it, and then walked into the sea of black flames.
His figure was quickly swallowed by the fire, his silhouette blurring between the heat and the speed of his steps.
Ron: "So... who takes the other potion?"
Extimum: "Let Hermione drink it. The two of us can get through with my amulets."
No one objected. It wasn't a big deal since they'd all get out anyway.
Extimum: "Here, take your fire amulet."
Ron: "Thanks."
Hermione: "Let's go too."
Hermione gave one last look toward where Harry had disappeared before drinking the last potion.
A sudden coolness washed over her body, clashing with the suffocating heat of the room. Though still apprehensive, she followed Ron and Extimum toward the purple flames.
As they approached, she didn't feel the heat of the fire—but it was still daunting to simply walk through.
Extimum noticed her unease, so he took her hand to help calm her. Hermione didn't pull away—instead, she moved closer to him.
The flames engulfed them, consuming their silhouettes until they vanished. But just before stepping through completely, Extimum's eyes turned one last time toward the path covered in black fire.
He had his own considerations—but for now, he withdrew with Hermione and Ron.
.-.
Harry kept walking. At first, he was uneasy about touching the flames, but as he drew closer, he didn't feel any heat from them—in fact, they seemed to move aside and clear a path for him as he approached, allowing him to cross with ease.After making it through the path of flames, a completely silent corridor greeted him, leading to a long staircase descending downward.
As he went down, he felt a faint discomfort in his scar.
Finally, after walking to the end of the passage, he reached a round chamber. It was dark, but like the previous rooms, a skylight in the ceiling allowed light to filter in. At the center stood the Mirror of Erised—the same one he had seen before, back when Dumbledore had removed it.
In front of the mirror stood a man wearing robes and a turban.
Harry: "It really was you... You were suspicious... but I still had doubts that it was Snape."
Quirrell: "Ah, Harry, I didn't expect you to be so clever. Perhaps you should have been placed in Slytherin—you'd do wonderfully there. Then again, who would truly believe it was me? Next to Snape, who always gives off that... vibe, no one would suspect someone like me—the po-poor stu-stuttering Professor Quirrell—of being the culprit."
Harry: "I'd never be a Slytherin. Besides, I didn't figure it out on my own."
Quirrell: "Ah yes... your friends. Very... peculiar, and... unpleasant. Though one of them in particular is quite impressive... So maybe your judgment isn't that bad after all. Still, you should be careful, Potter. Getting close to a family as dangerous as the Enoch... you might end up dead without even knowing how."
Harry: "Extimum isn't like that."
Quirrell: "But... do you really know him? Do you know his family? Is he truly the person you think he is? Hahaha... you know nothing. By the way, that little prank of his... especially detestable. Ruined the perfect moment I could have killed you. Granted, it was mostly Snape who helped with a counter-curse... but his attack on me is what caused me to fail."
Harry: "Snape... tried to save me?". His tone clearly showed his surprise.
Quirrell: "I knew from the start you'd be a threat. So young, yet already defeating a troll—that clearly shows your talent". Quirrell ignored Harry's question entirely, more interested in continuing his monologue.
Harry: "Then... you're the one who let the troll in?"
Quirrell: "Very good, Potter. You really are bright. Snape, unfortunately, wasn't fooled by the troll. While everyone else was running through the dungeons, he went to the third floor to stop me. From that moment on, he stopped trusting me. He never let me out of his sight.But he doesn't understand... I'm never alone."
Quirrell turned slowly to face the mirror as he spoke, completely unafraid of showing his back to Harry.
Quirrell: "Now... what does this mirror do? I see what I desire... I have the Philosopher's Stone... but how do I get it?"
???: "Use the boy". A dry, rumbling voice echoed through the chamber.
Quirrell: "Step closer, Potter—now!"
Harry: "No". Harry immediately ran, since the stone wasn't visible and Quirrell clearly didn't have it—it made no sense to stay.
Quirrell: "Atabraquium!". Quirrell cast a spell, and the next moment Harry fell to the ground, his feet bound by an invisible force.
Harry: "Agh, ah!". Harry struggled to break free, but couldn't. His bindings weren't even physical.
Quirrell: "Come here, Potter". At his command, Harry was dragged across the floor to Quirrell, right in front of the mirror.
Quirrell: "Tell me—what do you see?"
At first, Harry resisted looking into the mirror—but then his head was forcibly turned, and he had no choice.
Harry: 'How is this possible?'. He couldn't believe what he was seeing—the mirror showed the stone in his pocket.
To his horror, after seeing it in the mirror, he felt that very pocket grow heavier.
Quirrell: "What did you see?"
Harry: "Uh... I was waving to Dumbledore. Looks like I won the House Cup."
???: "He's lying". The voice once again echoed through the room.
Quirrell: "Tell the truth."
???: "Let me speak to him."
Quirrell: "But... you don't have the strength". Quirrell sounded concerned as he spoke into the air.
Voldemort: "I have enough strength for this."
.-.
Extimum had left with Hermione and Ron.
With all threats behind them and their part of the task complete, their bodies finally relaxed enough for the toll of their efforts to become evident.
Their clothes and hair were disheveled, holes and tears marked their robes, and they bore scrapes and bruises.
And exhaustion—both mental and physical.
The Devil's Snare had been the main cause of most of the damage, but in the rush and stress of the other trials, they had hurt themselves further.
Among them, though Extimum had been the one most exposed, he seemed almost untouched aside from his messy clothing. His wounds had long since healed thanks to his unique physique, which gave him superior regeneration. He was only a little sore.
The whole ordeal had been stressful, but perhaps because of his latest adventure in the Muggle world, the situation hadn't weighed too heavily on him mentally.
At present, the three were walking back down another corridor that had opened when they crossed the purple fire.
Hermione: "Do you really think he'll be alright?"
Ron: "Hard to say. For now, we just have to trust him and send word to Dumbledore."
Hermione: "What about you, Extimum?"
"…"
Ron: "Extimum?"
Extimum was walking alongside them, but he seemed to ignore them, even when they called to him several times.
Ron: "Hey, what's wrong with you? Why aren't you answe—?"
Ron, annoyed, reached out to grab Extimum by the shoulder—but his hand went right through him.
Ron: "Ahh! I just went straight through Extimum!"
Hermione: "Calm down—look closely". She stepped forward, reached out her hand, and touched Extimum as well.
There was nothing there—no physical presence. Perhaps someone sensitive to magic might sense it, but otherwise it was nothing but an illusion, one that had been walking silently beside them the entire time.
Ron: "It's... an illusion?"
Hermione: "And a very realistic one. If we hadn't touched it, it'd be hard to tell it wasn't actually him."
Ron: "So he was never with us?"
Hermione: "No, he probably did leave with us—but at some point, he left and left his illusion behind."
Ron: "But... what did he expect to find if he went back? There's no way through the black fire, right?"
Hermione: "Maybe... he had a way... but couldn't bring us with him."
Ron: "He could've told us."
Hermione: "He probably didn't want to worry us or waste time arguing. Since he's already made that decision, we should keep going and get the message to Dumbledore. There's nothing we can do right now, even if we went back—and staying here waiting would be useless."
Ron: "Alright, let's go."
.-.
In fact, just as they suspected, Extimum had initially chosen to leave with them. But when he saw a new passage appear that looked like a direct route to the end, he changed his mind.
He didn't try to explain himself or leave a message—doing so would only slow him down and be troublesome.
Though he didn't have a guaranteed way to cross the black fire, he still had other tricks to try... ones he didn't want anyone else to see. It was, more than anything, an experiment.
Stopping in front of the flames, he paused.
The black fire surged violently before him, radiating a heat that was hard to ignore—one that seemed to pierce the skin and burn directly into flesh and bone.
He unfastened his expandable pouch from his waist and set it down on the floor.
"Alright..." he muttered to himself. "Let's make this quick."
He closed his eyes, focusing his mind. A pulse of magic ran through his body, and his skin began to darken to a charred shade. His muscles tightened and hardened, forming a rough, solid texture. Fine scales and plates of keratin overlapped like living armor.
Even his eyes changed—the sclera turning black, and the iris taking on a dull glow, protected by a transparent membrane that shifted with each blink.
He looked like a humanoid monster.
Opening his eyes, he gauged the sensation—the heat affected him less, though he could still feel it.
It wasn't the best transformation he could manage, but it was the safest and most stable he knew.
He raised his hand, conjuring a layer of raw magical energy over his body like a second skin, which tightened around his silhouette. Finally, he hung a fire-resistance amulet around his neck; its faint vibration told him the protection was active.
One step forward... the heat rose instantly, like crossing an invisible wall. The air scorched his throat as he inhaled, and the roar of the flames thundered constantly in his ears.
He launched himself in.
For the first few meters, the amulet held. The black flames slid around the barrier, hissing like angry snakes. But they soon grew stronger: a sharp crack signaled the barrier's collapse, and the amulet crumbled into glowing dust.
The heat spiked at once, a painful sting sweeping over his body. Gritting his teeth, he pressed on.
The flames surrounded him completely, the blazing path turning into a tunnel to hell.
Halfway through, a wave of heat bit into his left shoulder, then another seared his side. His breathing grew shorter—each breath felt like molten metal pouring down his throat. Sweat never even formed; it evaporated instantly.
'Come on... you have to last.'
When he was about seventy percent through, the energy field was consumed by the fire, leaving only his transformation to bear the brunt.
The heat became unbearable in an instant.
"AGHhh!"
A growl escaped his mouth as the fire finally began to eat away at his skin, visible cracks forming across it.
His vision blurred, warped by the heat waves—but he could already see the end of the path.
"Let's... go..." he growled.
Pouring everything into his legs, he jumped—and even midair, made a second leap forward.
** Fushh **
He felt the flames clawing at his back... and then he broke through the blazing path.
He landed on one knee on the other side, gasping. His clothes were reduced to charred rags, and his black, scaled skin bore reddish cracks that were already beginning to close.
The change was jarring—from the roar of fire to silence, from scorching heat to the cold stone floor beneath him, which only made him more aware of the burning pain in his smoldering skin.
He let himself drop sideways, one hand braced on the floor as he caught his breath.
The scales and chitinous reinforcement began to recede, melting back into his flesh until his natural skin tone returned—revealing the damage left by the flames: reddened patches, blackened spots, and irregular scorch marks across his arms, shoulders, and sides.
They were already healing, but the deep, constant burn remained—like embers buried under his skin.
Looking down, he realized he was practically naked; his clothes were nothing but charred scraps clinging to his body. Only a few bits of fabric had survived.
Clicking his tongue, he reached instinctively for his wand. To his relief, it was still intact in the holster at his side. The leather was slightly singed, but otherwise undamaged.
"At least it was worth the Galleons I spent on it."
With a quick motion, he repaired what was left of his clothing, creating a tattered but functional black robe. The burnt smell still clung stubbornly to it.
Then he paused to think.
Why hadn't the fire kept burning him after he crossed?
Elixir fire wasn't ordinary—if it caught you, it would keep consuming you until it burned out completely. And yet, once he crossed, it had vanished instantly.
He had made his preparations: the amulet, brief as it lasted, had given him an initial margin; the energy field absorbed most of the damage for more than half the way; the transformation reinforced his resistance; and his regeneration and physique had done the rest to get him through.
As for stopping the lingering fire—he had a few ideas: forcing his bloodline to boil and counter the flames, or using his defective spatial magic to separate himself from them, among others. But its sudden disappearance... was unexpected.
'Well... this is still a good thing. Better not to have to resort to those measures, even if it's strange.'
While he reflected briefly, his body had already healed considerably.
Curiously, his hair didn't seem burned at all, as if the flames couldn't touch it—but in his brief reflection, he didn't notice.
Looking at his soot-covered, burnt-smelling body, he flicked his wand, magically washing and drying himself. He couldn't afford to move forward leaving traces or a lingering scent of fire.
…
Cloaked beneath an illusion, Extimum advanced with measured steps through the corridor. The air grew heavier with each pace, as if the place itself were warning him that he was drawing near to something dangerous.
Even under the veil of illusion, he kept his breathing controlled, fully alert in case anything happened.
Soon, the silence around him was broken by echoes as he reached the entrance to the chamber.
He was about to step inside when, suddenly, a fierce burst of flame ignited mere centimeters from his face. The flash blinded him for an instant, and the heat stung his cheek like a slap, forcing him to step back. Instinctively, his wand traced a Protego before his mind even registered that he wasn't being attacked.
For a moment, he thought he had been discovered—until a booming voice filled the chamber.
Voldemort: "Don't be a fool... Why suffer a terrible death when you can join me and live?"
Harry: "Never!". He shouted, running to get as far away from Quirrell as possible.
He had been freed under the condition that he would move and hand over the Stone—but Quirrell had surrounded the room with fire to keep him from escaping.
Extimum: 'Damn, that almost scared me to death.'
Heart still racing, he quickly hid behind a pillar. Even hidden by his illusion magic, he wasn't going to take any chances. He observed Harry's struggle and the fire blocking his way.
'It's normal fire. If I move fast, it won't be a problem to get through.'
Voldemort: "Hahaha... bravery and stupidity... your parents were the same. Tell me, Harry—would you like to see your father and mother again? Together, we will bring them back. All you have to do is give me the Stone."
Taking advantage of Voldemort's attention being locked on his speech, Extimum slipped silently between the pillars, positioning himself at an angle where he couldn't be seen directly.
Once sure he hadn't drawn attention, he calculated his jump—and in one precise movement, darted through the fire and landed behind the mirror.
Voldemort: "That's it, Harry. There is no good and evil... only power, and those too weak to seek it. Together we will do extraordinary things. You need only give it to me."
Extimum: 'Tch... you're just scared to get close to Harry because he killed you once.'
Harry: "I won't give it to you."
Voldemort: "Kill him". Finally losing patience, Voldemort barked the order.
Quirrell obeyed instantly, lunging at Harry and pinning him to the floor, choking him.
Seeing his opening, Extimum raised his wand, gathering his energy. Without hesitation, he stepped out from behind the mirror and pointed it at Quirrell.
Extimum: "¡Foraminis in spatio!"
His first self-created spell. He hadn't perfected it in the short time he'd been using it... but curiously, he had found a way to make it more destructive when it failed. Most would expect to improve a spell—not find ways to make it worse…
Voldemort: "Behind you!"
The illusion didn't fool him; his perception and experience let him detect it. Quirrell barely had time to turn his head before a spatial distortion exploded against his back, tearing through fabric and opening a deep, bleeding wound.
** Aghhh **
Voldemort: "How dare you!?". Voldemort roared, but his host had bigger problems.
Quirrell was a brilliant scholar and a competent wizard—but no warrior. That lack of combat instinct explained why, instead of casting a spell, he had tried to restrain Harry with his hands like a back-alley thug.
The pain forced him to stumble back, losing his grip just long enough for Harry, who had been struggling, to strike him in the face.
** AGHHHHH! **
A shrill cry tore from his mouth as he staggered, clutching his face in agony.
The skin on his face had charred, crumbling into ashes. Panic stripped away what control he had left.
Quirrell: "M-my face...". He stammered, horrified, as the burning spread and the ashes clung to his hands when he touched his face.
In Quirrell's mind, Voldemort roared: 'Useless fool!'.
It was already humiliating enough to live as a parasite in another's body—and now, the vessel he inhabited was falling apart before his eyes.
Voldemort: "The Stone. Take it". Finally, he chose to prioritize the goal; Quirrell's sacrifice would be worth it—and perhaps even reversible.
Harry, free at last, gasped for air. His eyes caught the faint red glint of the Stone on the ground. But despite the pain and his weakened state, Quirrell still had the fanatic's persistence. Both lunged for it.
Extimum, however, had just been struck by a violent legilimency attack from Voldemort seconds earlier. His mind already had natural defenses, but even so, the blow had nearly knocked him unconscious. He regained clarity just in time to fire a blast of energy at Quirrell, who countered with a shield spell and kept charging.
He didn't get far—Harry struck him again, this time destroying what little was left of his face.
Quirrell: "AHHhhgg...". A piercing scream erupted as he was consumed by Harry's magic, turning to dust.
Voldemort: "Arggg, I will remember this!". He roared before lunging at Harry in an ethereal form, knocking him unconscious with a direct strike to the soul.
Extimum stood frozen for a few seconds. The room fell silent, broken only by the crackle of the dying flames. His mind was still spinning, his head pounding with both pain and exhaustion.
Finally steadying himself, he looked at the scene before him.
Extimum: "Damn... all this effort, and this is all I could manage... Was I expecting too much?"
He cast a long glance at the spot where Voldemort had vanished, then turned his attention to something more important.
With slightly unsteady steps, he approached Harry, confirming that he had fallen unconscious from Voldemort's attack. He checked his condition with a basic medical spell he had learned and, though he didn't gain much information, he confirmed that at least he seemed to be fine. Then, he shifted his gaze to a spot not far from there.
A crystalline red stone glimmered faintly.
Extimum: "It would be a real shame for you to be destroyed."
Drawing closer, he picked up the Philosopher's Stone from the floor.
It wasn't very large—just a bit bigger than his fist—ruby-red, with a crystalline structure, and radiating an almost imperceptible energy.
Extimum: 'Too bad I can't keep it whole.'
Extending his hand, his nails lengthened unnaturally, and with a simple slash, he cut off a considerable piece of the Stone.
Though his nails had their limits, they were incredibly sharp and hard—like the claws of a magical beast.
Extimum: 'I doubt they'll question a missing piece too much—it's enough that Voldemort doesn't have it. The traps were good, but the fact that both he and we reached this far only proves the incompetence of those in charge. As for this fragment... once I've studied it enough, I can get great use out of it. Wasting a limited object would be a real shame.'
He stashed the fragment in an improvised pocket in his robe and placed the rest into Harry's hand.
After that, he turned and approached the mirror.
Extimum: 'With that done... Mirror, mirror, now that we finally meet—why don't you show me what I truly desire?'.