The Farce Must End, Tom

Professor McGonagall snapped, "Sophistry! Hand over the Philosopher's Stone! Now!"

Almost simultaneously, Quirrell hissed, "Give me the stone! My master needs it!"

McGonagall and Quirrell's gazes instantly locked onto Caesar's clenched right hand.

That deep red gem had become the eye of the storm.

Hermione's heart pounded wildly. She stood slightly ahead of Caesar.

She could feel Caesar's increasingly unstable aura behind her, as well as Professor McGonagall's resolute will and Quirrell's greedy killing intent ahead.

Logic told her she should help Professor McGonagall reclaim the Philosopher's Stone—it was Hogwarts' greatest treasure, entrusted to Dumbledore's protection.

But... from the corner of her eye, she could see Caesar's pallid face, could feel his life force draining like sand through an hourglass.

The One-Winged Bird pendant pressed against her chest, now cold and lifeless, suddenly sent a series of faint but sharp stabs of pain.

As if the connection on the other end was snapping, carrying echoes of despair and farewell.

Caesar...

Just as Professor McGonagall decided to deal with the primary threat first, her wand glowing again as she prepared to forcibly take the Philosopher's Stone from Caesar's hand, And Quirrell, grinning viciously, gathered dark magic, ready to snatch it in that instant—

Hermione moved.

Not an attack, not a defensive spell.

From the tip of her wand erupted a dazzling silver light, as if she had torn apart the starry river itself!

The light wasn't a direct attack. Instead, it transformed into countless fine, hair-thin yet unyieldingly tough silver threads, exploding outward in a spherical burst centered on her!

These silver threads weren't physical, but the manifestation of highly condensed magic and some kind of protective will.

They didn't directly attack McGonagall or Quirrell, but precisely and densely wove around Caesar's body, forming a constantly flowing, rotating Silver Cocoon Barrier.

At the same time, more silver threads, as if alive, nimbly wrapped around the Disarming Charm and Binding Spell McGonagall had shot at Caesar, as well as several dark magic arrows Quirrell had sneakily fired.

When the silver threads met the spells, there was no violent explosion. Instead, a strange sizzling sound arose, like ice melting or metal grinding.

McGonagall's spells were weakened layer by layer, deflected, and finally dissipated into nothing.

Quirrell's dark magic was entangled, decomposed, and absorbed by the silver threads, as if they had met their natural nemesis.

"Is this... a variant of the Ancient Guardian Spirit? Such powerful psychic magic externalized..." Professor McGonagall halted her follow-up attacks in shock, staring at Hermione in disbelief.

She recognized part of the magic's essence.

But the scale, precision, and power of what Hermione had cast completely exceeded the limits of a student, or even most adult wizards!

Hermione didn't respond. She maintained this massive spell, her face turning pale at a visible rate, veins faintly bulging on her forehead—clearly, the drain was immense.

But she held her ground, her brown eyes fixed firmly on McGonagall and Quirrell, silently declaring through her actions: No one would get past her to touch Caesar or the Philosopher's Stone easily.

After a few tentative probing attacks, Professor McGonagall realized with shock.

She couldn't break through this strange silver defense in a short time without actually harming Hermione!

Hermione's control over magic was so exquisitely precise that the defense even carried properties of reflection and absorption, leaving McGonagall with a frustrating sense of having no angle to attack.

"Hermione Granger!" Professor McGonagall's voice carried a note of heartache.

"Do you know what you're doing? You're protecting a traitor, someone who might drag Hogwarts into the abyss!

Give me the Philosopher's Stone. It's not too late to turn back! I don't want you to fall because of this!"

"Fall..."

If you like this book, to avoid losing it next time, remember to add it to your bookshelf.

Hermione savored the word, a faint, almost bitter smile appearing on her pale face.

"Professor... if holding onto a trust, protecting someone who—even if he might be wrong, might be heading toward darkness, but means everything to me—counts as falling..."

She didn't finish her sentence, but the resolve in her voice made Professor McGonagall's heart sink to the bottom.

On the other side, unable to get the Philosopher's Stone for so long, Voldemort's face on the back of Quirrell's head twisted to the extreme. A hoarse roar nearly tore through Quirrell's throat:

"Useless! All of you are useless! Since you can't get it... then I'll take it myself!"

Quirrell's body suddenly convulsed violently, letting out an inhuman scream.

The skin on the back of his head split open, and a thick, inky black mist, condensed from all the malice and cold in the world, burst forth!

The black mist rapidly coalesced, no longer dependent on Quirrell's body, forming a vague, twisted, formless shadow in the air.

Only two points of scarlet light, like eyes from hell, locked onto Caesar behind the silver barrier, and the Philosopher's Stone in his hand!

Quirrell collapsed like a pile of mud, alive or dead unknown.

Voldemort, risking enormous danger, had forcibly projected more of his true will and power here!

A terrifying pressure instantly enveloped the entire chamber. The very air seemed to freeze. Hermione's silver barrier rippled violently, emitting a strained hum.

Just at this moment of despair.

"I think this farce should come to an end, Tom."

A calm, aged voice, yet one carrying undeniable power, rang out.

The air at the entrance to the stone chamber rippled like water, and the figure of Albus Dumbledore appeared silently.

He wore a deep blue night robe patterned like a starry sky, his gaze sharp as an eagle's behind his half-moon spectacles. The Elder Wand in his hand seemed casually held, yet it appeared to contain the power to quell a storm.

Severus Snape followed like a silent shadow, his black robes billowing, his face its usual sallow and sullen pallor.

But his dark eyes swept rapidly across the scene, and when they landed on Voldemort's shadowy form and the collapsed Quirrell, his pupils contracted almost imperceptibly.

"Albus..." Professor McGonagall's tense nerves eased slightly at the Headmaster's arrival, but a flicker of doubt crossed her eyes when she saw Snape.

Voldemort's shadow let out a piercing hiss: "Dumbledore! You've finally come! A pity, it's too late! The Philosopher's Stone will be mine!"

"I'm afraid not, Tom."

Dumbledore stepped forward slowly, his gaze sweeping over Hermione and Caesar behind the barrier. A deep understanding and a faint trace of regret flickered in his eyes before finally settling on Voldemort's shadow.

"Severus?"

Snape stepped forward expressionlessly, raising his wand—not at Voldemort, nor at Caesar, but at the shadowy mass in the air.

In a cold, clear, utterly emotionless voice, he rapidly chanted an extremely complex and obscure incantation.

As the spell sounded, the surrounding magic began to resonate at a specific frequency. The ancient runes on the stone chamber walls and floor seemed to awaken, emitting a faint glow, subtly forming a field of binding and purification.

Clearly, this was no spur-of-the-moment action, but a pre-arranged plan!

Voldemort's shadow let out a roar of shock and fury: "Snape?! You dare!"

"I was never loyal to you, Tom." Snape's voice remained icy. "I am loyal only to... a promise, and to averting a worse outcome."

Hermione stared at the scene in shock, a sudden flash of insight striking her.

Dumbledore had known all along!

He knew about Caesar's potential problem, knew about Voldemort's coveting of the Philosopher's Stone.

He might even have used all of this, setting up the chamber as a trap—using the Stone as bait to lure out more of Voldemort's true power and strike it down!

And Snape, who had always been a double agent, had now finally and completely revealed his allegiance!