Chapter 188: The Magic Stone Obtained
After he left, the troll that had just turned into nothingness, along with the stench in the room, reappeared as if nothing had ever happened.
"A troll? How could anyone use such a tasteless creature?" the young man muttered, still visibly displeased by the previous line of defense.
He turned to the new room. There was only one table, with seven differently shaped bottles neatly arranged on it. Suddenly, purple flames roared up behind him, sealing the path he came from, while black flames flared to life at the entrance to the final chamber.
"A logic puzzle," he scoffed, lips curling. "As if someone capable of seizing the Philosopher's Stone would need a fireproof potion to walk through flames. What a boring, condescending setup."
"It's just another way to show off superiority," he sighed, walking straight through the black flames.
The final room.
A young man dressed in moon-white stepped out of the flames, completely unscathed. The black fire still danced lightly around his fingertips, as if lingering out of nostalgia.
"A mirror?" he mused, gazing at the tall, ornate object before him. "A mirror that tests the heart?"
"A clever idea. It even sees through Occlumency."
He traced a fingertip along the mirror's surface. Strange symbols appeared where he touched.
"The act of looking into the mirror signifies a willingness to reveal one's inner thoughts. Use Occlumency, and you'll see nothing—just air. But… what if I change my heart?"
He faced the mirror properly for the first time.
His expression shifted. The usual amused detachment vanished. In its place was a calm, resolute aura—a sense that he would follow his chosen path, even if he walked it alone.
In the mirror, the young man reached into his pocket and pulled out a crimson stone. Then, with a small smile, he tucked it back inside.
Outside the mirror, his gaze briefly lost focus. The image inside flickered to a field of stars before vanishing entirely, as if no one had ever stood before it.
"That was close. Almost gave myself away."
"The fourth prerequisite for a magician," he said lightly, "is to keep a poker face—always."
From his pocket, he drew the real prize: the Philosopher's Stone.
He grasped it in his left hand. Moonlight gathered around him, coalescing into a second crimson stone in his palm.
It was indistinguishable from the real one, but this duplicate recorded everything that had occurred within the chambers.
"It's hard to get it in, but easy to take it out," he murmured.
Another figure appeared in the mirror—his reflection, smiling as he pocketed the fake stone.
He gave a final smirk. "No extra charge for the performance. Farewell."
Then, both he and the true stone turned into moonlight, vanishing into the void.
---
Back at Hogwarts…
In the corridor on the fourth floor, all seemed untouched. Every room looked as though no one had ever entered.
Meanwhile, far away in the Nottingham Forest, moonlight poured through a window at the top of an ancient castle tower.
This window faced a massive desk in a library so vast it couldn't be perceived from outside. Behind the desk stretched endless rows of bookshelves, their ends lost in darkness.
A figure slowly became visible behind the desk: a handsome boy wearing Hogwarts robes. In his hand, he played with a crimson stone.
This was Ryan.
"Truly powerful, yet so fragile. The stone that grants immortality… but only through the will of a wizard."
"Jack, store it in my room," Ryan instructed the house-elf who had just appeared.
Though Ryan could have teleported directly, he knew Jack enjoyed receiving orders. It gave him purpose, and Ryan allowed it for simple tasks.
Yes—the man in the moon-white robes was Ryan.
He had never forgotten the trouble Dumbledore caused for his family's potion business.
Knowing the Philosopher's Stone was destined for destruction under Dumbledore's watch, Ryan had acted first. The creator of the Stone had already died, another victim claimed by Death.
So Ryan took it—not for greed, but out of reverence. Such a masterpiece of alchemy should not vanish.
No thanks necessary. Frugality, after all, is a fine Chinese virtue.
---
Three days later. June 6th, 1991. Noon.
By the Black Lake, Harry and his friends sprawled across the grass, enjoying the sun. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were splashing near the giant squid.
"So good to be done with exams," Ron sighed, limbs stretched. "Harry, lighten up! We won't know how badly we did until next week."
"I thought results came out this week," Neville said uncertainly, fumbling with his Remembrall.
"They delayed ours to make space for O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. testing," Hermione added. "Some classes are still being tested this week, but we won't get our results until summer."
"Which means…" Anton Lu counted on his fingers. "They'll arrive by owl in the third week of June."
Ron's eyes widened in horror. "Merlin's beard—I'm doomed!"
He turned to Harry in panic. "You know I messed up Transfiguration and Potions. My parents are thrilled I got into Ravenclaw, but what if they find out I'm the worst Ravenclaw?"
"I'd like to help," Harry said, rubbing his forehead, "but my scar's been hurting more lately. It's weird—it's happened before, but never this often."
"It hurt before?" Ron asked, face turning pale.
"Could it be… You-Know-Who?"
Then, just as quickly, Ron smiled.
The strange shift in expression left Harry too confused to keep worrying about his scar.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you like the story please give it some power stones and reviews. And if you want to read 40+ advance chapters or just want to support me please join my patreon at [email protected]/Translatingfanfics