Dumbledore's Fishing Game

Tver keenly noticed a faint sound coming from the stairway not far away.

If it was a patrolling caretaker or professor, he only needed to hide inside.

But if it was someone with the same goal, he could not do that.

After thinking for a second, Tver decided it would be safer to hide near the doorway.

Looking around, he spotted an indentation behind one section of wall.

He moved into that recess.

The instant his body pressed against the wall, the wall behind him gradually stretched apart to either side, concealing Tver within it and leaving only a translucent membrane over his eyes.

A very useful Transfiguration spell.

Just as everything returned to normal, a furtive figure appeared around the corner.

Though the darkness obscured his face, the conspicuous large turban on his head was enough to identify him as Quirrell.

Tver had not expected him to be this eager as well.

Quirrell no longer moved with the timid, shrinking manner he usually affected. Instead, he strode into the corridor decisively and immediately noticed what was unusual about it.

"Lumos."

Light flared from his wand, illuminating Quirrell's anxious face.

"Alohomora."

The door holding the Philosopher's Stone could actually be opened with a spell. How was that any different from leaving Gringotts' doors unlocked?

The bait was practically dangling in plain sight.

The wooden door opened so smoothly that Tver could not help complaining inwardly.

Quirrell froze for a moment, then hesitated for two seconds before pushing the door open and entering.

What happened next was beyond Tver's sight.

His Transfiguration could only alter the surface layer of a wall. Walls bore weight; changing one part would affect the whole structure. He was not capable of that yet.

As for someone who could transform an entire wall like this, Tver suspected Dumbledore might be the only one in the wizarding world capable of it.

Still, Tver did not have to wait long before he heard the sounds of spellcasting and an animal biting inside.

That should have been the three-headed dog.

The legendary three-headed dog was a creature of Hell, said to guard the gates of the underworld.

The wizarding world's three-headed dogs were naturally not like that, but they were still no match for ordinary wizards.

Three-headed dogs possessed extremely high resistance to magic, making it nearly impossible for spells to leave any mark on them.

Combined with their immense strength, boundless energy, and stamina, they were practically invincible in a confined room.

When facing a three-headed dog, wizards generally subscribed to the attitude of, "If you can't beat it, can't you just avoid it?"

Fortunately, Tver knew the three-headed dog's weakness.

At that moment, the battle in the room gradually came to an end, with Quirrell fleeing in panic.

However, Quirrell's strength somewhat exceeded Tver's expectations. The films had never given a detailed portrayal of his abilities; even at the end, he had still been fighting the Savior in close combat, turning to ash without even needing fire.

Yet just now, he had actually held his ground against the three-headed dog for a while. Aside from his disheveled clothes, he did not appear to be injured.

It seemed his strength could not be underestimated.

With that thought, Tver opened the door.

The three-headed dog had just gone through a battle and was about to lie back down to rest. Before its three heads had even turned away, it saw someone else approaching.

And that person arrogantly made a silencing gesture at it.

"Shh."

Then a harp suddenly appeared before its eyes and began playing on its own.

As the beautiful music began, the three-headed dog's eyelids drooped.

It tried to struggle twice, but after its heads bobbed a couple of times, it resigned itself and collapsed onto the ground.

Tver moved aside the three-headed dog's paw blocking the trapdoor. When he opened it, he found darkness below, even blacker than the corridor outside.

"Lumos."

A bright orb of light appeared at the tip of his wand, then detached at its brightest moment.

By the light cast by the orb, Tver saw tangled vines below.

Devil's Snare.

It preferred dark, damp environments and could extend snake-like tendrils to entangle anyone who came near, strangling them before feeding on them.

But the vines seemed deeply afraid of the light orb. Before the detached orb even reached them, the tendrils automatically parted and allowed it through with ease.

Using a Levitation Charm to carry his body, Tver slowly passed through the Devil's Snare and reached the ground below.

Before him stretched a long, straight, damp corridor, with the murmur of running water coming from both sides.

He had probably reached deep underground.

The corridor was still pitch-black, but bright light shone through from ahead. Tver strode forward with the Lumos Charm lit.

Every obstacle guarding the Philosopher's Stone had been set up by the professors. As a teaching assistant, Tver clearly had not been qualified to take part.

The Devil's Snare had been Professor Sprout's handiwork, the head of Hufflepuff.

The room beyond the next obstacle was Professor Flitwick's masterpiece. A flock of "birds" glittering with silvery-white light fluttered about inside.

This time, the door ahead could no longer be opened with magic. The visitor had to catch the one correct key in order to unlock it.

Brooms had even been thoughtfully prepared nearby.

At the sight of them, Tver's mouth twitched.

He had focused on studying magic these past few years, and he had no talent for flying to begin with, so he had barely ever experienced the joys of riding a broom properly.

But he had his own method.

Casting a spell directly on the keys would naturally have no effect, but what if he used magic to catch one?

Tver looked up and searched through the cluster of keys, finding the large, antique silver key that matched the door.

With a flick of his wand, a small stream of purple flame shot from its tip like a rope, racing toward his target.

Sensing the ominous aura within the flame, the keys—including the correct one—scattered in panic.

But the flame chased after them as if it were alive, winding around the key twice before binding it.

Oddly enough, the purple flame displayed none of its scorching nature. Like an ordinary rope, it merely tied the key up.

With the key in hand, Tver opened the door leading to the next obstacle.

This childish method of guarding the place was hard not to criticize, but it was an open trap. Even knowing it was a trap, Tver still had to step into it.

The next room held an enormous chessboard. The black and white pieces stood in clearly divided ranks on either side, waiting for Tver's command.

The problem was that Tver did not know how to play chess.

As mentioned before, he had spent the past few years focused on studying magic, leaving him extremely inept at many things—especially entertainment.

But Tver had expected this as well. He had come today to confirm whether the obstacles here differed from those in the movie.

It seemed his little butterfly effect had not been enough to alter the arrangement here.

It was getting late, so Tver retraced his familiar path and returned to his office.

But he still had to solve the chessboard problem.

Brute force was the simplest solution, but it was hard to believe Professor McGonagall would not have left behind even a small warning spell.

That would be difficult to explain.

It seemed he needed to learn how to play wizard chess?