Defeating the Final Boss

Harry: "There's a harp under Fluffy's paw. Looks like Snape already got through."

Oren: "What if it was Quirrell?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Who would suspect honest, stuttering Professor Quirrell?"

Hermione urged, "It doesn't matter who it was. Let's get past Fluffy quickly."

Harry took out a music box and started playing it. Fluffy lived up to expectations and promptly fell asleep.

Oren clicked his tongue. "Seriously? They sent something like this to guard the door? That's absurd."

Hermione asked, "If you were designing this challenge, what would you put here?"

"The fiercest dog possible, obviously. The kind that bites every rat passing by."

Hermione...

Harry and Ron worked together to move Fluffy's massive paw aside, then hesitated as they stared into the pitch-black darkness beneath the trapdoor.

Ron turned around and asked, "Hermione, would you be willing to jump first?"

"I absolutely would not." The little witch shook her head so hard it nearly became a rattle-drum.

Oren started egging her on. "Come on, Hermione, set an example for the brothers. Jump."

"No. You jump first, then I'll jump."

"Get out of here, you embarrassing lot. I'll do it." Oren shoved Ron aside and jumped straight down. He had great confidence in his fate, though he was also prepared for a hard landing and could cast a cushioning spell at any moment.

Bang! Oren felt a net catch him, only for it to start winding itself around him. A flash of deep blue flame burned a hole through it.

He still hit the ground, but thankfully the drop was short, so his only injury was a sore backside.

"Come on down. There's a net below, and it's pretty big." Oren stood beneath the hole he had burned, ready to cast a spell. If some unlucky idiot fell through here, it would be time to set the table.

Bang! ×3

Ron: "What is this thing?"

Harry: "It looks like some kind of plant."

Hermione: "Oh no, it's Devil's Snare!"

The three of them struggled like fish caught in a net, while Oren, the fish that had slipped through, watched to see what nonsense they would come up with.

"Devil's Snare is afraid of fire! Burn it!" Harry was nearly wrapped up like a mummy.

"But we don't have any firewood!" Hermione shouted.

Ron said, "Hermione, are you even a witch?"

In the end, Hermione used Bluebell Flames to drive back the Devil's Snare.

"Pfft, you lot finally decided to come down?" Oren couldn't hold back his laughter. "But we don't have any firewood! Hahaha, coming to Hogwarts really was a waste of your talent."

"Oren, why didn't you help us?" Hermione snapped, her hair puffing up like an angry beaver's fur.

"It was just Devil's Snare. Did you really need me to step in? If you got taken out by something like that, you'd definitely make the Daily Prophet. In the comedy section."

"Hmph. Ignore him. Let's hurry up and clear the next challenge." Hermione took the lead after saying that.

Harry cried out, "There's light ahead!"

They entered the room, where a tightly shut door stood alongside three broomsticks and a swarm of winged keys flying about.

Oren walked up to the door and muttered, "Tch, this lock is kind of interesting. Still, it's nowhere near as good as Snape's potion cabinet."

Then he began fiddling with the lock.

The three children did not sit idle either. They quickly deduced how to pass the challenge, mounted the broomsticks, and began chasing the correct key.

"Okay, done." Oren turned around and saw the three of them standing behind him, panting and drenched in sweat.

"You went looking for the key?" Oren looked at them as if they were idiots.

"That's right. We successfully got the key." Harry confidently displayed the key in his hand.

Oren gave the door a light push, and the tightly shut door opened directly with a crack.

The three children...

Silence was the final exam dungeon of the night.

The three children followed Oren into the next challenge with their heads hanging low.

The second room contained an enormous chessboard.

Oren said, "Ron, it's your time to shine."

"Can't be helped. You three are all terrible at chess." Ron shrugged and walked onto the board.

"I'm afraid we'll have to take the places of four chess pieces here."

"I'll be the knight. Harry, you be the bishop. Hermione, you be the castle. Oren..."

"Um, Ron, can I be the king? I looked around. That seems like a perfect spot to coast to victory."

Ron...

"Fine, fine."

Oren watched the show while eating potato chips. His judgment had been correct—he did not move a single step from beginning to end. It really was the perfect place to coast to victory.

"There's no other way. As long as I get taken, Harry can checkmate their king."

"No!" Harry and Hermione shouted.

Ron shrugged. "Can't be helped. You have to make some sacrifices in chess."

Oren tossed aside his potato chips and cast a Shield Charm on Ron. "Quit being dramatic. Ron, you've been buffed. Go feed yourself to them!"

The Shield Charm seemed to give Ron courage. He said firmly, "I'm going."

The opposing chess piece raised its arm and smashed it down onto Ron. Ron was a tough guy too—he did not make a sound before passing out.

After checkmating the opposing king, they hurried over to Ron.

Hermione asked worriedly, "How did this happen?"

"That was careless of me. The spell wasn't strong enough." Oren spread his hands. "Don't worry, though. Ron's still breathing. He just fainted."

The two children dragged Ron to a corner of the room and tossed him there before the three continued onward.

As they entered the next room, a foul stench assaulted them.

A troll lay sprawled inside. A huge lump sat on its head, and it appeared to be unconscious.

Harry said in relief, "Great. We don't have to fight it."

Hermione watched Oren pull a long blade from his pocket. "What are you doing?"

"What else? Sending it on its way. What if it wakes up later?"

"Wouldn't that mean we came here just fine but couldn't get back out?"

The two children had to drag Oren by force into the fourth room, barely saving the troll's life.

The moment they entered, black and purple flames cut off both their path ahead and their path back.

Harry looked at the bottles of potion on the table. "This should be the challenge Snape set up, right?"

Oren picked up the parchment on the table and stared at it with a face full of black lines. "What? What? What is this even saying? Since when did Snape become a riddle-speaker too?"

Hermione snatched the parchment away. "It's a riddle. Let me think..."

Oren directly applauded the little witch's brilliant reasoning.

Harry said, "So there are two potions. One lets us go forward and search for the Philosopher's Stone, while the other lets us go back and leave this place."

"That's right," Hermione said confidently. "That's exactly it."

While Hermione and Oren were not paying attention, Harry grabbed the forward potion and drank it in one gulp.

He said firmly, "I'm going to find the Philosopher's Stone. One of you go out and write to Dumbledore, tell him to come back and help."

"But Harry, what if that mysterious person is in there too?" The little witch's voice trembled slightly.

"I have to face him sooner or later, don't I?" Harry smiled at them before charging into the black flames.

Hermione looked at Oren. "Which one of us is going to write to Dumbledore?"

Oren yawned. "Obviously you. I still need to back Harry up."

With that, he took out a bottle of the same forward potion Harry had used.

"Wait." Hermione grabbed Oren. "How do you have that potion?"

"No! Snape must have given it to you, right? Dumbledore must have known about all this already, right?"

Oren!!!

At a time like this, he had to play dumb. Oren crossed his eyes at the little witch.

"The one stealing the Philosopher's Stone is definitely Quirrell, right?"

"Hm?"

"Headmaster Dumbledore told you long ago, didn't he?"

"Ah?"

"You were right that the mysterious person and Quirrell are the same person too, weren't you?"

"Wibble wobble?"

"You, you, you!" Hermione pointed at Oren furiously.

"Enough, let go already. If you drag this out any longer, Harry will get beaten to death."

"Hmph." Hermione huffed and released him.

"Take this phoenix feather. Pour magic into it, and you can call Headmaster Dumbledore."

After handing the feather to the little witch, Oren stepped into the flames as well.

The moment he entered the final room, he was completely dumbfounded. This is the final boss? What the hell kind of place have I been brought to? Is this still the wizarding world? Why aren't spells flying everywhere? Why are Quirrell and Harry in an unrestricted fistfight?

Quirrell was choking Harry, but his hand looked badly burned and was covered in blisters.

"It's you! The Black boy." Quirrell's mouth did not move, but a hoarse voice came from him. "Come help Quirrell catch Potter, and obey orders like your father and elders did!"

Oren raised an eyebrow. "When you have trouble and come to ask Young Master Black for help, Young Master Black is very pleased. But Young Master Black does not like your tone."

Harry struggled to look at Oren too, his expression pitiful like a beaten little sprite.

"Oof." Oren sighed. "I'll assist you!"

Under Quirrell's hopeful gaze, Oren delivered a left front kick followed by a right roundhouse, sending Quirrell flying several meters away.

"Harry, what are you standing around for? Don't gang up on him!"

It took Harry several seconds to understand what Oren meant. He grumbled inwardly, At a time like this, he's still fooling around.

The two began attacking Quirrell together. Harry's physical damage was low, but his attacks carried magical damage. Oren's pure physical strikes were explosive, every punch shattering armor and nearly every blow breaking one of Quirrell's bones.

"Aah!" Quirrell screamed. Just then, Oren's punch had smashed his wand and wrist into several pieces.

Without his wand, Quirrell used the two legs that were barely still intact to quickly widen the distance between himself and them.

"Oh, my! You scoundrel, don't run! Come back and fight me to the death!" Taking the opportunity, Oren pulled a long blade from his pocket. The goose-quill saber, nearly as tall as he was, gleamed coldly in the firelight.

Harry, carried away by the moment, lunged forward. A cloud of black mist flew out from Quirrell's body, slammed into Harry, and fled the scene.

"Harry! Harry!" Oren shook his shoulders. "Are you alive? Say something!"

"Cough, cough. Child, stop shaking him. Potter merely fainted." Dumbledore appeared at some point and stopped Oren.

"Oh, so he just fainted." Reassured, Oren directly tossed Harry back onto the ground.

Dumbledore...