The six of them continued down the corridor until it ended at a thick, heavy wooden door, inscribed with intricate magical runes.
Charlie stepped forward to push it open,
But before his hand touched the handle, a strange fluttering noise came from above.
"Fffft, ffft, ffft"
Everyone looked up.
Tiny black shapes flitted about near the ceiling.
"Birds?" Harry squinted.
Hermione shook her head. "No… those are keys. Winged keys."
Sure enough, the fluttering swarm was made up of flying keys of all shapes and sizes, each with a pair of delicate, buzzing wings.
"The door's locked tight," Fred muttered, giving it a hard shove, it didn't budge.
George raised his wand. "Alohomora!"
Nothing.
"Unlocking spell didn't work," he said, frowning.
Hermione pointed to the airborne key swarm.
"Looks like we'll have to find the right one among those."
"There's dozens," Ron groaned.
Harry glanced at the room's far side. "There are brooms over there, we can fly up and catch it."
"Wait." Charlie raised his wand.
"Why bother?" he said simply.
He pointed his wand at the sky and spoke clearly.
"Finite Incantatem Maxima."
A pulse of invisible magic surged from the wand's tip, sweeping across the ceiling.
In an instant, all the keys froze midair, then dropped like a shower of metal hailstones.
Clink, clink, clatter!
The room fell silent.
Harry gaped. "What spell was that?"
Hermione stood speechless. She'd read dozens of books and never seen magic like this.
The Weasley twins looked at each other in open disbelief.
"Finite Incantatem Maxima?" Fred's voice wavered.
"Isn't that a Seventh Year spell?" George swallowed.
They'd heard Charlie beat a troll, but now… now it was hitting them.
This wasn't just a strong first-year.
This was a walking magic anomaly.
When they were first-years, they were still struggling to pronounce "Lumos" without summoning a buffalo by accident.
Charlie walked calmly into the heap of fallen keys and, after a few seconds, picked one up.
"This one fits."
He slid it into the lock and pushed open the door.
As they stepped into the next room, Charlie frowned.
These traps are way too flimsy. This is supposed to protect the Philosopher's Stone?
And the next challenges did little to help his skepticism.
A life-sized chessboard sprawled across the room. Under Ron's command, they won quickly.
Ron, flushed with success, puffed out his chest. Even Fred and George gave him a rare word of praise.
Next came a riddle with seven bottles.
A classic logic puzzle: one bottle would allow them to pass through fire. The rest would harm or trap them.
Hermione solved it in under a minute.
They shared the correct potion, stepped through the flame, and entered the final chamber.
This is too easy, Charlie thought.
If you had the Philosopher's Stone and knew someone wanted it, what would you do?
A: Keep it on your person at all times.
B: Hide it in a place no one could ever find.
C: Give up and let the villain have it.
D: Destroy it so no one could use it.
The correct answer?
Apparently, place it at the bottom of a trap gauntlet so obvious it might as well come with an invitation card.
"Is this a joke?" Charlie muttered.
Then, something clicked in his mind.
The first trap: flying keys. Harry's a Seeker, trained to spot and catch fast-moving targets.
The second: wizard chess. Ron's a chess prodigy.
The third: a logic riddle. Hermione could solve these in her sleep.
Charlie's expression twisted.
These weren't defenses… they were tests.
"Did Dumbledore design this on purpose…?"
He felt a chill run down his spine.
And now I've brought everyone through it, am I going to be in trouble?
Can I still run?
They entered the final room.
In the center stood a majestic mirror, ornate frame, smooth glass glowing faintly.
Harry gasped. "The Mirror of Erised!"
Hermione blinked. "The what?"
Harry explained, "Over the holidays, Ron and I found this mirror. It shows your deepest desire."
Fred and George slowly turned to glare at Ron.
"Oh, and you didn't think to share this magical wonder with your loving older brothers?"
"Disgraceful," George muttered.
Ron turned pink. "You never share your stuff with me either!"
"Ohh… the betrayal," Fred said dramatically.
While they squabbled, the rest moved to the mirror one by one.
Fred was first.
"Whoa. I'm holding the Philosopher's Stone… turning gold into prank items… I opened the biggest prank shop in the world!"
George shoved him aside. "Where's my dream?"
George's reflection showed an even bigger shop, bustling with customers.
Hermione saw herself acing every subject, holding the House Cup, and becoming Head Girl, all while inventing a new Philosopher's Stone.
Harry… saw his parents.
James and Lily Potter smiled, waving at him lovingly.
Ron… saw himself as Quidditch World Cup captain, holding the Stone, while Fred and George knelt at his feet polishing his boots.
Damn, that's satisfying.
Hermione suddenly frowned.
"Wait… wasn't the Philosopher's Stone supposed to be here?"
Everyone stopped.
"…Right. Where is it?"
"Did someone already steal it?"
"Or was it never here at all?"
In the shadows, hidden by a spell, Dumbledore watched, chuckling to himself.
Oh, how brilliant he was.
He'd hidden the Stone inside the Mirror of Erised.
Only someone who truly desired the Stone, but not for selfish reasons, could obtain it.
Each of these children had wanted to use it.
Make money. Fulfill dreams. Bring back family.
Even Harry, kind-hearted as he was, couldn't have resisted the temptation.
Only when he stood before Voldemort and sought only to protect the Stone would the spell activate.
Yes, it was all according to plan.
…Until Charlie stepped up to the mirror.
Charlie's reflection calmly took the Stone… and slipped it into his pocket.
Charlie felt something drop into his real pocket.
He reached in.
And pulled out a smooth, warm gemstone.
The Philosopher's Stone.
Dumbledore blinked.
…Wait.
Wait.
His spell hadn't triggered.
The enchantment hadn't blocked him.
Charlie had just… taken it.
For the first time in a very, very long time.
Albus Dumbledore was stunned.
Did… did my magic just get outplayed?
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