A Simple Line of Defense

Time: 5:15.

Harry and his two companions were now standing in another room.

They were colorful keys, hovering on the ceiling like birds.

Oh no, so many keys! Just dodging their attacks is a problem enough. Harry has only recently mastered the Protego Protective Charm.

This is a spell that even some senior students and some Ministry of Magic staff don't know. Am I really good enough?

Harry couldn't help but think this sadly.

Draco, standing to the side, also wore a bitter expression. The curses he knew were mostly for playing pranks on others; they really wouldn't cause any problems using the key.

"Alohomora!" Ron's chant interrupted Harry and Draco's reverie.

"Ron, how did you get there!" Draco said before Harry could, pointing to Ron, who was already on the other side of the room, next to the heavy wooden door.

"Just walk there." Ron looked at Draco with a puzzled expression, wondering why he asked such a simple question.

Then, Harry and Draco cautiously followed.

The two of them covered their faces with their arms, as if they thought sharp mouths and claws would tear them apart at any moment, but they were unharmed.

Fortunately, Ron didn't notice this. He pulled and pushed, but the wooden door didn't budge.

"Looks like we need a key, but how do we get up there?" Harry frowned, while Ron, oblivious to his embarrassment, shook his shoulder.

"What do we do? Ron, stop messing around—where did this come from?!" Harry stared in disbelief at the flying broom that Ron had handed him.

"There are three of them in the corner, one for each of us," Ron said smugly.

Harry and Draco exchanged another glance. By now, he was seriously doubting whether Voldemort or Quirrell really existed.

Could all of this be a test from Dumbledore? Perhaps the final challenge will be Dumbledore himself?

Harry started to give up. "I'll do it. I saw a silver key with drooping wings. I'll try it— Protego!—Oops!—That's it?"

Harry stared at the struggling silver key in his hand, a look of utter disbelief on his face. Had he wasted his Protego?

Ron below was already clapping, while Draco had a complicated expression on his face.

"Perhaps the key will attack us when we open the door?" Draco reassured him.

"Malfoy, you're still jealous of Harry at a time like this?" Ron helped Harry down from his flying broom and walked to the wooden door.

Draco had no choice but to suppress his emotions and try to understand—to understand Ron, who was just thick-skinned.

Harry took a deep breath; the simplicity before was likely just a ploy to lower their guard.

Harry carefully inserted the key into the lock and gave it a hard turn—the door opened.

Then, with a click, the lock popped open, and the key flew away again.

However, to Harry and Draco's disappointment, it simply flew away and did not summon its friends to attack Harry with a bunch of keys.

"Are you ready?" Harry gripped the doorknob, looking at Ron and Draco with a half-laugh, half-crying expression.

"Harry, this is the third level already, cheer up," Ron comforted him.

Harry didn't answer, but when Draco nodded, he pushed the door open.

The room was pitch black; nothing could be seen.

But Harry wasn't afraid of anything. The flying broomstick he'd just used had already revealed the identity of the professor who set up this defense— Professor McGonagall, who loved Quidditch the most.

Even Professor McGonagall's strictest defenses are like this, so what else is there to fear? Harry thought to himself.

Sure enough, the lights came on as soon as I stepped inside.

A large Wizard's Chess?

I guess I should just hurry over there; it can still attack—oops!

Harry suddenly crouched down, and the white pawn nearly hit his head.

"That's awesome!" Harry and Draco exclaimed in unison.

"Harry, have you and Malfoy gone mad?" Ron asked with concern, believing that his two friends had been overwhelmed by the pressure.

Now, it's up to him to take the lead, and this is his specialty, Wizard's Chess. "It's obvious that we have to play chess to get to the other side of the room."

Ron's current chess skills are far stronger than in the original timeline.

Whenever Harry got annoyed with Ron and tried to change the subject, he would mention Ron's excellent chess skills, which made Ron consciously hone his chess skills.

Logically speaking, he shouldn't have had to sacrifice himself like in the original timeline, getting hit on the head by the White Queen.

However, he unfortunately said something—that the silver-eyed wizard was Voldemort.

"How could I possibly be that ugly Voldemort!" thought Ryan, who had taken control of the white faceless piece.

And so, Ron sacrificed himself once again, struck on the head by the White Queen's stone arm, Ron seemed to be knocked unconscious.

Trembling, Harry moved according to Ron's instructions before his sacrifice. The White King removed his crown and threw it at Harry's feet.

They won.

The white pieces bowed and stepped back, making way for them to reach the door.

Harry and Draco dared not turn back, fearing that turning back would mean starting the game all over again, and they could not let Ron's sacrifice be in vain!

They gave Ron one last worried look before rushing through the door and down the next corridor.

"I was wearing Protego! How could Ron have fainted!" Harry said, trembling, in the corridor.

Ryan, who was hiding nearby, nodded.

Indeed, Ron would have been fine, because unlike the original timeline, Harry used Protego.

But that wouldn't be fun, so Ryan increased his strength slightly to just knock Ron unconscious.

It can't be too heavy either, after all, Ron is also Ryan's friend.

"With your protective charm, Ron will be fine." Draco called out Ron's name, partly to reassure himself.

"Yeah, it's okay." Harry nodded.

For the first time, he began to feel regret; perhaps things wouldn't have turned out this way if he hadn't thought the levels were too easy.

Perhaps the levels can sense their attitude; if they are prepared, things will be easy; if they dislike something being easy, then it will be difficult.

Although it was just Harry's imagination, he still couldn't shake it off.

So much so that when they reached the next level, where a stinking, unconscious troll with a Troll on its head appeared, Harry still didn't react.

Draco was the same; they breathed freely. How could this little bit of stench bother them after a semester of Defense Against the Dark Arts, or affect their concern for Ron!

Soon, they arrived at the next room.

They need to be quick; someone has already gotten there before them.

There was nothing scary in the new room, only a table with seven bottles of different shapes on it.

"This must be the defenses set up by Professor Snape." Harry forced a slight smile; he was quite skilled with Potions.

As soon as the two stepped across the threshold, a burst of flames suddenly rose behind them, sealing off the doorway.

This flame was unusual; it was purple.

At the same time, black flames shot up from the doorway leading to the front.

They were trapped in the middle.