Dudley pushed open the door guarded by the troll and stepped into the next chamber.
This was a circular room, brightly lit and eerily quiet. Dudley scanned his surroundings—no monsters lurked in the shadows, no sculptures stood sentinel. Only a simple table occupied the center of the space, its surface crowded with an assortment of bottles and vials.
"Potions," he murmured, already knowing who had designed this particular obstacle.
Snape, without question.
Dudley took a single step forward.
WHOOSH!
Brilliant purple flames erupted behind him with a roar, sealing off his retreat. Simultaneously, black fire shot skyward on the opposite side, blocking the path to the next door. The flames danced and writhed, casting shifting shadows across the stone walls.
"So I need to brew something here?" Dudley wondered aloud.
But as he examined the room more carefully, he found no cauldrons, no ingredients, no brewing apparatus—only those mysterious containers on the table.
Walking closer, he discovered a piece of parchment lying beside the bottles. After scanning its contents, understanding dawned.
"How considerate," Dudley said with dry amusement. "I don't even need to brew anything. Snape's already done the work for me—I just need to find the right antidote."
The parchment contained detailed descriptions of the liquids in each container, but it wasn't a straightforward answer key. It required logical deduction to solve.
In other words, Dudley didn't need any knowledge of potions whatsoever. Pure reasoning would suffice to identify which bottles would safely carry him through the black and purple flames.
"I've heard wizards struggle with logical thinking," Dudley chuckled, shaking his head. "Is this challenge specifically designed to stump magical minds?"
He focused his attention on the riddle:
Seven bottles stand before you: one grants passage forward, one allows retreat, three contain deadly poison, and two hold harmless nettle wine.
The poison always sits to the left of nettle wine.
Neither bottle at the ends contains the forward potion.
The largest and smallest bottles are poison-free.
The second bottle from the left tastes identical to the second from the right.
Dudley's eyes moved systematically across the seven containers. From left to right, the third bottle was clearly the smallest, while the sixth was the largest.
"Bottles three and six aren't poison," he reasoned aloud. "The second from the left and second from the right taste the same—that's bottles two and six."
"Therefore: bottles two and six contain nettle wine."
"Poison sits left of nettle wine, and the end bottles aren't the forward potion."
"Conclusion: bottle seven allows retreat through the purple flames."
"The smallest bottle—number three—isn't poison."
"Therefore: bottle three is the forward potion."
The logic unfolded effortlessly. Dudley selected the smallest vial and held it up to the firelight, examining the clear liquid within.
"Cheers," he said with mock formality, raising the bottle like a toast before draining it in one smooth motion.
"Ugh..." A violent shiver ran through his body as the potion hit his system. It felt as though he'd been plunged into an arctic lake, ice crystals forming in his veins.
"Terrible vintage," he commented, then strode confidently toward the wall of black flames.
Without hesitation, he stepped directly into the inferno. The dark fire engulfed him completely, yet he felt no heat whatsoever. The flames licked harmlessly at his skin and clothes, leaving everything perfectly intact.
"Excellent," Dudley murmured with relief. "At least I won't have to continue this adventure naked."
Beyond the flames lay another door—unlocked, as expected. Once someone solved Snape's logical puzzle, no further barriers remained.
He pushed it open and stepped through.
The final chamber was massive, dwarfing all the previous rooms combined. Dudley's gaze swept the circular space, finding no exit doors, no further passages.
"This is it, then. The end of the line."
His attention focused on the room's center—a sunken area surrounded by blazing torches that cast dancing crimson shadows across the walls. There, on a small raised platform, sat a dark red stone that seemed to pulse with inner light.
"The Philosopher's Stone."
Even without his enhanced senses, Dudley would have recognized it instantly. But with his spiritual vision active, he could see the dense magical energy swirling around the artifact like a miniature storm. If this were a sealed artifact from his previous world, it would rank among the most powerful.
The ability to transmute base metals into gold or to brew the elixir of immortality—either property alone would make this stone priceless. And unlike the dangerous sealed artifacts he'd encountered before, this one appeared to have no negative side effects.
"But what's the test here?" Dudley didn't rush forward. Instead, he studied his surroundings with careful attention.
Near the platform, he could detect traces of complex magical workings—spells far beyond his current understanding, woven with a sophistication that spoke of true mastery.
"My intuition says there's danger here," he mused, "but nothing immediately life-threatening."
"In all the previous challenges, I could identify each professor's handiwork. Sprout's Devil's Snare, Flitwick's flying keys, McGonagall's chess set, Quirrell's troll, and Snape's logic puzzle. But Dumbledore's contribution was notably absent."
"Which means this final test bears the headmaster's personal touch."
"I wonder what surprise awaits me."
Dudley began his descent down the stone steps, moving toward the platform with measured steps.
BUZZ!
The world around him suddenly shifted. Light dimmed dramatically, and thick mist began pouring from nowhere, filling the chamber with supernatural speed. Within moments, Dudley could see nothing beyond the gray wall surrounding him.
Simultaneously, he felt the space itself expanding, stretching outward like taffy. The room that had seemed large before now felt vast as a Quidditch pitch, its boundaries lost in the swirling fog.
It was profoundly isolating—like standing alone on an endless, mist-shrouded plain where direction had no meaning and the horizon offered no comfort. The sensation was designed to make a person feel utterly abandoned, insignificant in the face of infinite emptiness.
But Dudley remained motionless, unshaken. He'd faced far stranger situations in his previous life. This psychological pressure, while expertly crafted, wasn't enough to break his composure.
"Impressive," he said softly, genuine appreciation in his voice. "Worthy of the most powerful wizard in the magical world."
"I'm actually looking forward to seeing what comes next."
Then his expression sharpened. Deep within the mist, something was watching him. He could feel its presence like a weight against his consciousness—ancient, patient, and utterly focused on his every move.
The real test was about to begin.
[Chapter Complete]
***
Want more? Check out my Patreon for:
✓ Advanced chapters of all my stories
✓ Exclusive novels & fanfics
✓ Early access content [email protected]/meowthtl
💪 Community Goal: 500 Power Stones unlocks a bonus chapter!
Thanks for reading and supporting the story!