October 19 – The Library (Restricted Section, 1:42 A.M.)
Rowan moved like shadow between shelves.
The air in the Restricted Section was still—thick with spells that hadn't been rewritten since the days of the Founders. His wand lit the path with a single wordless charm. The cube in his pocket pulsed again.
Three trials. One remains.
He had the ring and the mirror shard.
Now, the cube began unfolding.
Glass panels separated from its corners like petals, revealing a third slot—still empty. And along the new panel etched a fresh rune: ᛇ (Eiwaz) — yew tree, symbol of death and rebirth. Transformation.
A map emerged from the unfolding cube—this time not of Hogwarts.
The Forbidden Forest.
Specifically: a hidden clearing deep past the Acromantula nests, beyond where even centaurs feared to tread. A location ancient and warded by Druidic magic—too old for Hogwarts, but somehow… connected.
He stared.
And realized the third trial wasn't within the castle at all.
October 20 – Gryffindor Tower (Morning)
"I want to help," Hermione said firmly.
Rowan had barely explained half of it when she sat up, face pale but resolute.
Ron, next to her, had gone unusually quiet.
Harry sat cross-legged on the floor, staring at the sketch of the cube, the map of the forest projected in glowing lines above it.
"You've been doing this all alone?" Harry asked.
"I had to," Rowan said. "Until now."
"You should've told us," Ron muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean—these scrolls, the ring, a mirror trial?"
Rowan glanced between the three. "I'm telling you now. But I can't ask you to come. This next part… isn't protected by Dumbledore or the school. I don't even know what we're walking into."
"That's why you shouldn't go alone," Harry said quietly.
Hermione nodded.
Ron sighed. "If I die, I'm haunting you."
Rowan almost smiled.
October 21 – The Forest Gate (Twilight)
They left after dinner, using an enchanted stairwell hidden behind the fourth-floor tapestry of Boudica the Brash. Hermione had traced a path that would avoid the patrolling teachers. Harry cloaked them in a Disillusionment charm they'd practiced for weeks.
At the forest's edge, the map flared.
Rowan touched the cube to a twisted oak trunk. The bark groaned and split, revealing a narrow trail no one else could see.
They stepped through.
The forest swallowed them whole.
The Druid Circle
The deeper they walked, the older the magic became.
The trees whispered in tongues not spoken aloud in centuries. Branches bent toward Rowan as he passed, brushing his shoulders as if in recognition.
Hermione clutched a protective charm around her neck. Ron had both hands on his wand. Harry moved like a hunter, eyes sharp.
Finally, they emerged into a stone circle.
Thirteen standing stones—each carved with runes that shimmered faintly in the fading light. The center was bare… except for a single stone table.
Upon it: a box of white ashwood, bound in silver wire.
Rowan stepped forward.
But the cube in his pocket screeched.
The forest shivered.
And a voice, ancient and cold, whispered from the shadows:
"Before the third may open, you must give your name."
The Naming Trial
Rowan looked around. "My name is Rowan Ambrose Weasley."
Silence.
Then the voice said:
"Not the name given. The name beneath.
Not the name spoken. The name carved."
Harry whispered, "What does it mean?"
Rowan's heart thundered.
He stepped to the center and placed both hands on the box.
"Show me."
The runes on the stone circle flared.
The box opened.
And inside… was not an object.
It was a memory.
The Origin
A room. Small. Stone-walled. Not Hogwarts.
A woman—red-haired, pale-skinned—cradling an infant in her arms.
A man beside her, dark-eyed, with the faint trace of a wandmark across his palm.
The baby cooed.
"Rowan," the mother said.
"Rowan Ambrose," the father whispered. "May he be stronger than we were."
Then something knocked at the door.
A man in gray robes entered. His face hidden beneath a hood. His wand older than any Rowan had seen.
The father handed over a pendant—the same symbol etched into the cube.
"We did what you asked. The charm is in place."
"And the boy?"
"Will never know—unless the seal breaks."
The vision shattered.
Rowan stumbled backward.
Hermione caught him.
"You alright?"
"I think…" He looked down at the cube. "My middle name… Ambrose… isn't from Mum's side."
Ron frowned. "You mean you're adopted?"
"No." Rowan shook his head. "But someone rewrote something. Hid a part of me. For my protection."
Harry stared at the pendant now projected from the cube. "And someone knew."
The Third Trial: The Wordless Flame
The box was now empty.
But beneath it lay a stone tablet with a single inscription:
To pass, the third must give without wand, without word, without shield.
A circle of fire erupted around them—white-blue flames that hummed with soul-burning heat.
Rowan stepped forward.
"Don't," Hermione warned. "We don't know what it—"
"I do," Rowan said. "It wants me."
He walked into the fire.
No screams.
No burning.
Just… a pull.
Memories flowed through him.
All the times he'd held back.
Hidden his gift.
Dimmed himself to make Ron feel taller, to avoid the twins' teasing, to stay unseen.
Now—he let it go.
The fire devoured the false quiet.
And in its center, Rowan opened his eyes.
A third object lay in the ashes.
A stone key—black, veined with gold.
The final piece.
He placed it in the cube.
The Philosopher's Door
The cube reassembled itself mid-air—ring, shard, and key glowing within. It pulsed once, twice…
Then projected an image.
Hogwarts.
But beneath it—a hidden vault.
And a single message:
"Only three may enter.
One of Heart.
One of Mind.
One of Memory."
Harry. Hermione. Rowan.
Ron groaned. "Of course I'm the one who gets left out."
"You're the one who gets to keep watch," Hermione said. "You know we'll need backup."
Rowan nodded.
The vault's location was clear.
Underneath the Third-Floor Corridor.
And now… they had the key.
Back in the Tower
The four returned under cover of darkness, silent and heavy with new understanding.
The Philosopher's Stone was no longer a puzzle for Dumbledore to handle.
It was a door—and they were the only ones holding the key.
But they weren't the only ones watching.
Far below, in a chamber hidden from even Dumbledore's magic, a man with two faces stirred.
And whispered, "Soon."