After hearing their request, Lewis hesitated for a moment—then agreed.
"If I can get a close look at Nicolas Flamel's Philosopher's Stone… that's worth it."
He thought to himself.
"And with my current strength, I probably don't need to be so cautious anymore."
After obtaining the druid inheritance, Lewis's confidence had grown significantly.
Level 6 Wizard.
Level 4 Psion.
Level 5 Druid.
Combined—
his overall combat power was already above Level 10.
And with his unconventional spell set, far beyond what native wizards expected,
he could even contend with a Level 15 wizard under information advantage.
A Level 15 wizard—
was already a major figure in the magical world.
At this point, there was no need for him to act timid anymore.
Not to mention—
he was no longer alone.
Auror Tonks.
The huntress Cirilla.
The unicorns.
The centaur tribe.
All were forces he could potentially call upon.
(Granger… still not strong enough to count.)
With that in mind—
even Dumbledore didn't seem that intimidating anymore.
"Alright. Let's do this."
They agreed to meet that night, then split up to prepare.
Though in truth—
Lewis wasn't sure what he needed to prepare, aside from stacking buffs on himself.
Speaking of buffs, after becoming a druid, his pre-battle options had expanded:
Tree Skin—hardens the body like bark.
Pass Without Trace—erases one's presence.
He wasn't planning to kill Voldemort anyway.
With seven Horcruxes, Voldemort couldn't be killed outright.
Late that night, Lewis cast Invisibility and slipped out of the Ravenclaw dorm, arriving at the fourth-floor corridor.
The forbidden door was tightly shut.
The others hadn't arrived yet.
Less than five minutes later—
footsteps echoed up the stairs.
Lewis stayed hidden.
From the sound, it was one person.
An adult.
The first challenger of Hogwarts' grand dungeon crawl—
had arrived.
He concealed himself behind a pillar.
Even with invisibility, caution was necessary.
Especially against the Dark Lord.
Sure enough—
it was Professor Quirrell.
Even now, he looked nervous and twitchy, peeking around before finally opening the forbidden door and slipping inside.
Lewis crept closer.
From inside—
the ferocious barking of a three-headed dog erupted.
But Quirrell was prepared.
He pulled out a magical harp.
Though no one played it,
soft music flowed from its strings.
"Perfect… I'll just borrow that."
Lewis grinned and memorized the melody.
Soon, the barking ceased.
The trapdoor opened.
Quirrell advanced.
Lewis made no move to stop him.
He wasn't here to interfere—
just to see the Philosopher's Stone…
and maybe earn some points for Ravenclaw.
After all—
if Dumbledore planned to shamelessly dump points onto Gryffindor later,
he couldn't exactly ignore Lewis's contribution, could he?
Unless—
he planned to give each Gryffindor 150 points.
Lewis smirked.
"Let's see how thick your skin really is, Headmaster."
About ten minutes later,
loud whispering echoed down the corridor.
Harry and Ron—
trying very hard to be quiet.
And failing.
"See? Snape already got past Fluffy," Harry whispered.
(…Lewis silently corrected him: Not Snape.)
They saw the half-open door.
Reality hit them.
Harry removed his invisibility cloak.
"If you want to back out, I won't blame you."
"Don't be stupid!" Ron said.
"We're going together," Hermione added, then glanced around.
"I suppose Lewis agrees, right?"
"…How did you know I was here?"
Lewis revealed himself.
Harry and Ron jumped.
Hermione smirked.
"I guessed. You scared me like that last time. I know your habits."
…She had grown.
Lewis felt oddly defeated.
With everyone present, Harry pushed the door open.
A low growl greeted them.
Fluffy was awake.
Three heads stared at them, snarling.
"What's that by its feet?" Hermione whispered.
"A harp," Ron said. "Snape must've left it—did you see him, Lewis?"
Lewis shook his head.
(Nope. Wrong professor.)
Harry pulled out his flute—
but Lewis stopped him.
No way he was listening to that.
"Let me."
"Minor Illusion."
A perfect replica of the harp's melody filled the room.
Fluffy's growls softened.
Then—
the massive beast collapsed into sleep once more.
"How long will that last?" Harry asked.
"As long as I want." Lewis shrugged. "Worst case, I loop it."
They moved toward the trapdoor—
but then paused.
Lewis had taken out three bottles and approached Fluffy's drooling mouths.
"Lewis! What are you doing?!"
He calmly collected the drool.
"Three-headed dogs in myth guard the underworld. Their saliva is toxic—can grow wolfsbane. Valuable potion ingredient."
He sealed the bottles, satisfied.
Then joined them at the trapdoor.
Ron opened it.
Pitch black.
"Lumos."
Hermione sent light drifting downward.
Eight or nine meters below—
a mass of writhing vines.
"What is that?!" Ron shuddered.
"Devil's Snare," Hermione said immediately.
"It strangles prey. Likes darkness. Fears light and fire."
"Then burn it!" Harry said.
Lewis gave him a look.
"And then what? Fall to our deaths?"
…Good point.
"I'll go first."
"No—I will!" Ron stepped forward.
Lewis raised an eyebrow.
Impressive.
But unnecessary.
He jumped.
Wind rushed past—
then—
a soft landing.
"I'm down!"
The vines began to wrap around him.
"Come on! I'll handle it!"
Hermione jumped next.
Then Ron.
Then Harry.
"IT'S TRYING TO EAT ME!" Ron yelled.
"Relax."
Lewis waved a hand.
No wand.
"Blight."
The vines withered instantly.
Dry.
Lifeless.
Collapsed into brittle husks.
"What kind of magic is that?" Hermione asked, astonished.
"Incredible…" Harry whispered.
Ron stared at his red marks.
"…You could've done that earlier."
"And turn Harry into a pancake?" Lewis replied.
Then looked ahead.
"This won't last. It'll regrow. We move."
Hermione guided the light forward.
"There—this way."
And together—
they stepped into the next trial.
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