Ron took a deep breath, adjusted his mental state, and began playing chess.
Though called Wizard's Chess, it was actually similar to international chess—not only were the pieces alike, but the rules were extremely similar. The only difference was that wizard chess pieces moved on their own, and—
CRASH!
A white knight struck down a black pawn with its sword, turning it into scattered fragments.
Ron's breathing became rapid, his face slightly flushed, and his palms sweated nervously. If a sword with that much power hit the chess pieces so hard, what if it hit them...
His reaction was calmly caught by Malfoy: "Don't panic, Ronaldo! Calm down! You can do this!"
The name "Ronaldo" made Ron's blood pressure spike, but it actually calmed him down. He began commanding the black knight to similarly smash white pieces.
'This is just a game of wizard's chess, this is just a game of wizard's chess. Ronald Weasley, this is just a game of wizard's chess—ptui!'
Ron kept hypnotizing himself mentally.
Whether Ron's self-hypnosis worked or not, under his command the black pieces unleashed their power, sweeping forward like a broken dam as countless white pieces fell. Perhaps sensing the crisis, the white pieces' attacks became increasingly ruthless, and many black pieces turned to fragments as a result.
'We're going to win! Just checkmate the king, and victory is ours.'
Following his commands, the white pieces' territory was gradually compressed, and the white king's movement range grew smaller and smaller, until now only...
"Just one more move to checkmate."
Ron's face was full of excitement. However... The White Queen approached Malfoy expressionlessly. This meant that on the next move, he would be taken.
"Wait..." Ron's face went as pale as a sheet.
He realized the problem—a very serious problem. If Malfoy moved away now, the black knight couldn't checkmate the white king, but the white queen could checkmate the black king, which meant they would lose the entire game. If he didn't move and directly checkmate the white king, then Malfoy would be taken.
"There must be a way, there must be a way. Damn it! How could I forget?!"
Ron was frantically sweating, racking his brains for a solution.
"There is no way!"
Malfoy's voice interrupted Ron's words. His expression was very calm: "This is the only way out. Sometimes sacrifice is necessary."
"Remember Slytherin's creed? Victory above all, glory above all."
"Remember what the Sorting Hat said? Those cunning and ambitious will use any means to achieve their ends!"
"We must win! We must be victorious! We are not dead weight!"
"Go, black bishop, seize the final victory!"
Malfoy took command from Ron, having the black piece checkmate the white king.
Dudley had once told him that Gryffindor and Slytherin had originally been very good friends—life-and-death companions who could trust each other with their backs. Though they might have some ideological differences, this didn't mean their feelings weren't genuine.
He longed for such feelings and yearned for true friends. He remembered that Ron was best at wizard's chess, but he hadn't mentioned that he was also quite skilled at it—his technique was no worse than Ron's.
The White Queen walked expressionlessly toward Malfoy. Ron painfully closed his eyes. Harry and Neville closed their eyes. Hermione closed her eyes, unable to bear watching what came next. Malfoy also slowly closed his eyes, accepting the fate awaiting him.
'Now, Ron, Potter, everyone—we're good friends too.'
THUNK!
It wasn't the violent scene they expected. The White Queen just lightly tapped Malfoy's head, and with a thud, he collapsed unconscious.
"He should be alright, shouldn't he?"
Seeing he wasn't chopped to pieces, Harry and the others sighed in relief.
Neville thought for a moment, "The force was lighter than Big D usually uses. Not fatal, but he'll definitely be unconscious for a while."
"Let's hurry to the next challenge."
The white king removed his crown and threw it at their feet, declaring their victory. The remaining white pieces all bowed and retreated, clearing a path.
The group immediately followed this path, and the door to the next challenge slowly opened. Then a nauseating stench hit them.
"It stings the eyes!"
Harry vigorously rubbed his eyes, squeezing away tears caused by the irritation. Otherwise he couldn't see ahead at all. It could no longer be described as simply smelly—it was practically a weapon. Yes, just like the biological weapons Big D often mentioned.
A strange roaring came from inside the room, and the stench became even more intense. Hermione acted again, waving her wand to reduce the smell considerably—at least enough to see what was in the room.
"It's a troll!"
A massive creature reeking of foul odors was charging at them with claws bared. The young wizards calmly pulled out their wands, aimed at the creature, and each cast a spell.
Then... the troll collapsed.
After the Halloween troll incident, the professors had specifically taught the young wizards how to deal with trolls and had them practice on a real troll. So now all the Hogwarts students knew how to handle a troll.
This challenge wasn't much harder than the Devil's Snare for them—if anything, it was even easier. Poor troll—it had barely appeared and done nothing before collapsing.
Covering their noses tightly, the young wizards hurriedly left the room. It was simply too smelly—staying there was torture.
The next room was simple, containing only a table with seven differently shaped bottles arranged on it, and a wall of fire blocking the path forward. A roll of parchment on the table contained many clues.
"Is it a logic puzzle?"
Harry asked, looking at the contents. He'd seen similar problems when attending St. George's Primary School. However, because he hadn't studied seriously, he couldn't remember the answers, let alone the solution method.
So he silently looked toward the only academic genius present—Hermione. With Big D not here, we can only rely on you.
"No, it's also a Potions problem."
Hermione picked up one of the bottles and sniffed it gently: "There are two ways to find the correct potion."
But these potions came from Snape, the Potions master—ordinary wizards couldn't distinguish them unless they were also Potions masters. Fortunately, he had provided sufficient clues.
Hermione quickly solved the puzzle based on the hints.
"The potion in the bottle is only enough for two people."
Hermione looked at the amount in the potion bottle, frowning with dissatisfaction: "That means only two of us can drink it."
Then she paused slightly, her brow furrowing as she turned to look at Harry with a serious expression.
"I think this potion should be given to you and Neville."
[Chapter Complete]
***
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