Chapter 192: The Beating "Heart"
Time: 5:35.
In the penultimate room of the forbidden area of Hogwarts, the parchment next to the bottles left Harry and Draco scratching their heads.
It was a riddle—written by Professor Snape.
This puzzle would stump most wizards who rely heavily on emotions and ideals, as many spells do. But Harry and Draco had developed rational thinking—perhaps more than they realized.
> "The first sentence explains there are two potions we need," Draco said, eyes scanning the riddle. "One to move forward through the black flames—toward the last room—and one to go back through the purple flames. Back to the troll, or even Fluffy."
Harry nodded. "If the intruder only knocked out Fluffy and the troll temporarily, they'd be ambushed the moment they returned. That sounds exactly like Snape."
> "The next lines tell us that of the seven bottles, two are nettle wine, three are poison, and the remaining two are the ones we need—one to go forward, one to go back."
"Let's number them from left to right," Harry suggested. "First clue: The largest and smallest bottles aren't poison. So that's bottle six and bottle three."
"Second clue: The second from the left and second from the right taste the same. That's bottle two and bottle six—they're both probably nettle wine," Draco continued.
"Third clue: The poisons are all to the left of the nettle wines. So the only candidates for poison are bottles one, three, four, and five. But three is already ruled out—smallest bottle, not poison. So poisons are bottles one, four, and five."
Harry tapped his chin. "Fourth clue says the leftmost and rightmost bottles are different and neither of them help you go forward. So bottle seven—the rightmost—must be the potion to go back through the purple flames."
Draco's eyes lit up. "That means bottle three—the smallest—must be the potion that lets us go forward. But… someone's already drunk from it."
He picked up the bottle. There was less than a sip left.
> "Give it to me," Draco demanded suddenly, reaching for it.
Harry twisted away instinctively. "What are you doing?"
"You were planning to drink it and leave me here, weren't you?" Draco scowled, eyes flashing.
"What?! No—this is Snape's defense line! He might've laced these with something nasty."
"But if someone drank from it—if it was him—then how could he have messed up?" Draco argued. "Unless he tampered with the potions afterward…"
"Maybe he did," Harry said quietly, lifting the seventh bottle—the one for going back—and casting a small spell with his wand.
"What are you doing?" Draco asked, frowning.
"Something I picked up in Atlantis' First-Year Potions. A technique to detect potion properties."
Harry held his wand steady, watching the faint shimmer around the bottle. "Freeze protection… it's non-toxic."
He handed it to Draco. "Here. Safe to drink."
Draco took it slowly, still watching Harry. "You sure you don't want to go back? You're not going to ditch me and find a professor?"
Harry chuckled. "Even if I tried, we've only got 10 minutes before six o'clock. And by then, Crabbe and Goyle will do whatever you want them to do."
"Dumbledore left me a message," Harry continued, his voice quiet now. "Just in case. The defenses so far—they felt like child's play. Even Snape's. Maybe it really is a test from Dumbledore. No Voldemort, no Quirrell. Just a setup."
Draco's eyes filled with doubt. "Or maybe McGonagall was the only one who took it seriously. We just played wizard's chess—that nearly killed us. Maybe it's not a test at all."
"If Voldemort really is behind this, and he gets the Stone, I'll never be able to stop him," Harry said. "Which means I have to go now."
"No! Let me go with you—" Draco stepped forward.
But Harry was faster. He lifted the tiny bottle and drank the contents in one gulp.
"Harry!" Draco cried.
Harry winced. "It's not poison… but it's like drinking ice. Freezing."
He shivered, the cold spreading through his body. "I need to go—before it wears off."
Draco grabbed his arm. "Then let me—"
But Harry pulled free and took off running, not daring to look back. If he did, he might lose the will to go.
---
The sensation from the potion numbed his nerves. The cold crawled into his chest like frost, and his forehead—the cursed scar—throbbed like a second heart.
Beating. Beating. Beating.
His intuition screamed louder with every step: Voldemort is ahead.
Harry didn't slow down. He threw off his Invisibility Cloak—he couldn't risk Voldemort taking it—and cast the Disillusionment Charm he had failed to master a dozen times before.
But now?
> Now it felt natural.
Like flexing a hand, or blinking. His body shimmered and blended into the surroundings.
He couldn't see the black flames licking around him, but he felt them. They didn't burn. They didn't hurt. He passed through the wall of darkness like wind through curtains.
---
Draco's voice still echoed faintly in his memory:
> "Good luck, Harry. Be careful—"
---
Then—he was through.
In the center of the final room, the hooded figure turned slowly.
It was Quirrell.
Harry's scar pulsed like a drumbeat. His forehead ached so badly he nearly cried out.
> Voldemort was here.
Without hesitation, without a word, Harry raised his wand.
> "Periculum!"
He didn't say it aloud. He didn't need to.
His magic surged like a tidal wave—warm and familiar, like the embrace of his mother. It flowed from his core, to his arm, to the tip of his wand.
A bolt of scarlet light—not fireworks, not a red spark, but a new form entirely—blasted forward from the wand in the hand of the invisible Harry Potter.
---
To Be Continued…
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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