Chapter 115 Sacrifice and Ascension
Quirrell!
In fact, before meeting him at this moment, Harry had imagined the scene of meeting him more than once in his mind, wondering what it would be like.
Strangely, he couldn't even imagine it.
Quirrell was undoubtedly the ultimate goal of all his actions today; he had entered this painted world to stop the other party.
To get the Philosopher's Stone before Quirrell!
He is Quirrell's rival, and they are enemies. This seems to have been destined from the beginning, but upon closer inspection, it doesn't feel very real.
In his memory, Quirrell had always been a submissive figure. He had only known Quirrell's true colors for less than two days, and there was no time to change the perception that had been ingrained in his mind for the past few months.
He thought he would be angry, afraid, and yell at the guy with the turban.
But when they actually met, Harry found himself very calm, watching as the other man gave him a slick, chilling smile: "Ah—Harry Potter, dear Saviour, I was just talking about you with your sidekick Weasley not long ago!"
That gloomy expression was completely different from the Quirrell we usually saw; there was no stuttering, no timidity, only a coldness like that of a venomous snake.
"Hello, Professor Quirrell!"
Harry couldn't believe he could greet his enemy with such a calm tone.
But he said it with a straight face, and very politely: "You look terrible. Were you the one who got struck by lightning before? I heard that doing too many bad things will make you like this. You really should reflect on yourself."
Next to Quirrell, Ron, whose face had turned red upon hearing the word "follower," suddenly puffed out his cheeks as if he wanted to laugh.
This method of humiliation was something Harry learned from Vaughn: using sharp and sarcastic language to mock and expose weaknesses, which can easily cause someone to lose control of their emotions.
But Quirrell was clearly much stronger and more patient.
He still smiled. "Don't try to provoke me, Potter. If I were so easily angered, I wouldn't have put on a stuttering act for months in front of you. And, according to Weasley, you once sympathized with me? Sympathized with poor, stuttering Professor Quirrell?"
"I heard you even felt guilty towards Snape? Hahaha—"
Quirrell's shrill laughter made Harry's head throb.
He suddenly realized that he hadn't grasped the essence of Vaughn's sharp tongue. If it were Vaughn, he would probably look at the other person with the eyes of someone looking at an idiot and casually say, "Your smile is really ugly," making the other person swallow their laughter.
But he couldn't do it; instead, he was easily provoked by Quirrell's feelings of shame and anger.
Because he had indeed sympathized with Quirrell and felt guilty towards Snape, all of that made him seem even more like a clown at this moment.
"Harry!"
Hermione called his name anxiously.
Ron shouted, "Listen to me, Harry, calm down. We're now just pawns in Chessboard Town. The only way to get through this is to continue the endgame. Remember what I taught you? Never get impatient when playing chess."
"Listen carefully to what I say in a moment, and follow the steps I teach you..."
"Weasley!" Quirrell's gloomy gaze fixed on Ron. "If you're not deaf, you should have heard that we're still a team… Or are you trying to break the rules?"
"So what!" Ron retorted, his bravado masking his inner fear. "Go ahead and chant that curse if you dare!"
"...Hmph, the Savior's incompetent lackey." Quirrell sneered, looking at Harry again: "However, you are still somewhat useful, Weasley. I think you'd better reconsider. As a pawn of the Savior's adversaries, have you considered what will happen if you fail?"
As he spoke, he tilted his head slightly and looked at the "knight" holding a greatsword not far away: "Go, take out the enemy's pieces!"
It was a taciturn chess piece. Its horse neighed loudly, and its heavy stone body moved forward with thunderous steps, arriving in front of a white piece, raising its greatsword high.
"Damn it! You stupid chess player, what bad luck did I have to play against you..."
The white piece cursed at Harry, but could only watch helplessly as the black "knight" swung his greatsword.
Amidst a deafening roar.
The wargaming pieces were smashed to pieces by a single sword strike, causing Harry, Hermione, and Ron to turn pale with shock and horror!
yes!
This isn't your average Wizard Chess game!
They are not just chess players, but also pieces in the game!
...
The start of the game finally managed to distract Vaughn, who was engrossed in the structure of the world depicted in the painting, and draw his attention to the "plot" below.
He chuckled as he watched Ron, filled with fear and hesitation, Harry and Hermione, struggling with anxiety, and Quirrell, who was laughing shrilly and enjoying the fruits of his "instigation."
"You're such a bad guy, Albus!"
Ron is the strongest wizard chess player among them. Normally, if he were to get serious, Harry, who has only been learning wizard chess for a few months, Hermione, who is terrible at chess, and even Quirrell would definitely not be his match.
In a normal game of chess, Ron, as a player, would definitely go easy on his opponent, since he wouldn't lose anything anyway.
But at this moment, they are not only players, but also pieces. Their friendship will put the trio in a difficult dilemma: should they choose victory or the safety of their friends?
Harry and Hermione will be constrained as a result, trying their best to prevent the course of the game from affecting Ron.
Meanwhile, Ron was also facing a tough challenge. He not only had to protect himself, but also had to figure out how to deal with Quirrell's malice and find a way to protect Harry and Hermione!
Unless they abandon friendship and resort to any means to achieve victory.
Dumbledore, who was watching the "drama" below with great interest, replied with a smile: "It was all your inspiration, Vaughn. The Muggle trolley problem you mentioned last time fascinated me. I went to Muggle society to find some similar moral dilemmas for reference and set up this challenge."
"How was it? Not bad, right? What do you think they'll choose? Will they choose friendship? Or will they pursue victory, get ahead of Quirrell in the progress of the challenge, and continue to prevent him from obtaining the Philosopher's Stone?"
Vaughn couldn't answer.
There is no right or wrong answer to moral dilemmas. Everyone has their own reasoning when they are in a situation, and there is no right or wrong.
Dumbledore clearly hadn't expected Vaughn to answer from the trio's perspective. After a pause, he asked again, "Vaughn, if it were up to you, what would you do?"
Vaughn glanced at him. "I'll draw my wand and, even if it means punishment, kill Quirrell!"
Dumbledore paused for a moment, then clapped and laughed!
"Hahahaha—darling, I must say, this is an unexpected answer, yet it's the most fitting for a wizard!"
As Dumbledore once said, magic can change the variables of fate, and it can also overturn the chessboard!
This is a typical mindset of attributing great power to oneself.
"Unfortunately, Harry and his friends still don't understand what their most important asset as wizards is."
"Dumbledore said regretfully."
Vaughn found it understandable: "They are still first-year students, and they would subconsciously think that they cannot win in magic when facing a professor."
"But you're a first-year student too."
"Uh…" Vaughn was speechless.
Dumbledore sighed: "In the end, they are not confident enough, do not understand magic enough, and do not know how to create conditions that are favorable to themselves. The punishment for using magic in the rules is actually a loophole that I deliberately left for them. As long as the three of them take turns to break the rules and take advantage of the time difference, I can definitely guarantee that Quirinus will be hit by at least one evil curse."
"All it takes is one curse to take effect, and with the time difference, a vicious cycle can be created…Quirinus saw this, which is why he didn't even take out his wand when he met Harry, because he knew that once he cast a curse and was punished with an electric shock, he would be unable to protect himself for a period of time."
Hearing this, Vaughn asked curiously, "Is this also a test? Is it one of the reasons you arranged for the two groups to meet in this round?"
"Yes, the result was not ideal," Old Deng sighed.
The worst is yet to come!
Vaughn thought to himself that Old Dumbledore had probably been away from teaching for too long and hadn't noticed how quickly Hogwarts students' practical combat skills had declined in recent years.
He could never have imagined that, a few years later, graduating students would be seeking out Harry to learn the Disarming Charm!
Thinking of this, Vaughn couldn't help but ask, "Albus, what is your educational philosophy?"
"Hmm?" Dumbledore was a little puzzled by the question, but after thinking for a moment, he replied, "I want students to have a wonderful childhood and youth. You know, I grew up in a dangerous era. Now it's a peaceful time, and the Law of Secrecy is on track. There's no need to put so much pressure on students..."
Vaughn had to interrupt Dumbledore, pointing to Quirrell below and staring at him: "You think this is a time of peace?"
"..." Dumbledore paused, stroking his beard.
Vaughn shook his head: "I don't know if you've also been deceived by the illusion of peace in the wizarding world. What I need to tell you is that the students' combat skills are worse than you think. If you have the chance, I suggest you hold an exam similar to OWLs, with all seven grades participating, and have them use all the spells they've learned."
"I guarantee that many students can't even use the Levitation Charm properly, which they should be able to master in first grade!"
Dumbledore shook his head repeatedly at Vaughn's statement, chuckling, "How could that be? Levitation is such a simple spell..."
Vaughn interrupted him again: "Yes, it is indeed very simple, but the problem is that, apart from the first year, the advancement exam no longer tests the Levitation Charm. Since it's not on the exam, naturally no one practices it anymore!"
Old Deng was stunned.
But Vaughn continued to press him: "It's not just Hogwarts. I've heard Crouch complain before that many of the Ministry of Magic's staff, apart from the Aurors, don't even know the Iron Man Charm... As the largest official institution in England, do you think they're capable of handling Tom's return?"
Dumbledore's lips moved a few times, and Vaughn gave him a deep look: "Albus, you've focused too much attention on me and Harry, seemingly ignoring that the circumstances are no longer what they were 12 years ago!"
"..."
After a moment of silence, Lao Deng had to admit that he had indeed been negligent.
However, this is not the time to think deeply.
"Thank you for reminding me, dear." Dumbledore took a deep breath and said, "When we get back, I will conduct a spell test for the entire school as you suggested. As for now, let's keep an eye on Harry and the others!"
Vaughn remained noncommittal but said nothing more, and looked down with him.
"Oh—it seems they chose friendship!"
As the two were talking, the game below had already begun. According to the rules of Wizard Chess, the white side goes first and is generally more aggressive.
But at this moment, the two saw that Harry and Hermione—mainly Harry, Hermione's level was too bad—adopted a conservative strategy, not expanding their territory much, and basically guarding the white side's half of the board.
Because Wizard Chess has a rule that restricts the number of squares, if they attack too aggressively, they may lock up Ron on the other side.
Ron, meanwhile, was responding passively and constantly causing trouble for Quirrell.
"Black Bishop, move two squares to the right!"
"Black Bishop, move three squares to the left and forward!" (The bishop moves diagonally, with no limit on the number of squares.)
The drastically different orders left the black bishop bewildered. He looked around at Quirrell and Ron, the two players who controlled the wargaming pieces, scratched his head, and complained, "Can't you two agree on something? Who should I listen to?"
Quirrell and Ron glared at each other. "Of course, you listen to me!"
The Black Bishop was caught in a dilemma, but ultimately decided to listen to Ron and move three squares to the left and forward.
But it was a trap. The Black Bishop had barely left when Harry's excited shouts echoed through the air: "Left Chariot, devour the Black Bishop!"
On the white side, a massive chariot leaped a full 50 feet, landing in the black side's half of the territory. With a thunderous roar, its stone wheels crushed the black bishop who had come to its doorstep into dust.
Harry and Hermione cheered. This was their first attack, and they had successfully liberated the left chariot. The result was quite good.
Ron also raised his fist.
Only Quirrell had a sinister look in his eyes, seemingly becoming the sole victim.
But Dumbledore and Vaughn, who were looking down at the situation, knew that things were not so simple.
"Quirinas did it on purpose. He knew Ron would cause trouble for him, so he sacrificed the bishop to lure the chariots into attacking."
"Yes." Vaughn nodded. "Most importantly, through this, Quirrell has shown the black pieces that Ron is not a competent player, and they will no longer obey his commands!"
The two continued to watch the chess game below, which was gradually escalating into a fierce battle.
As expected, the subsequent developments in the situation validated their judgment.
After the Black pieces were sacrificed by the Church of Self-Reliance, they no longer obeyed Ron's commands. On the other hand, the attacking chariots also made it impossible for Harry to simply defend.
That chariot piece acted like bait, drawing Harry's forces in continuously, maintaining the negligible advantage he had built up.
This is inherently determined by the nature of endgames. When Dumbledore redesigned the level, he invited Professor McGonagall to carefully select an attacking endgame. Once the attack begins, the situation will force both black and white to use the most aggressive and fierce methods to turn the knife towards the King.
With the sacrifice of pieces from one another, the Queen, the most aggressive and free-form piece in Wizard Chess, was finally liberated!
It transforms into a terrifying slaughter machine.
boom--
Amidst the rumble of the stones, the Black King expressionlessly sheathed his greatsword. A white chariot collapsed before him, leaving only its head, glaring resentfully at Harry: "Foolish chess player, I told you not to go this way! I should have just smashed a chariot over your head!"
Harry was covered in sweat.
He felt like his head was about to explode. Although he had some talent for Wizard Chess, he hadn't been playing it for very long. He only learned it last Christmas and hadn't even figured out many of the strategies yet.
The current situation has changed far beyond his experience.
So far, it's all thanks to a flash of inspiration and Ron's assist.
"Harry…"
Hermione watched him anxiously from a distance, then glanced at Ron, who was not far from her.
Ron was pale, but not from fear. He was racking his brains, his tiptoes trembling slightly, his blue eyes scanning the situation on both sides as he muttered something to himself.
At one point, Ron, who had been standing still, suddenly moved forward two squares (in a game, you can only move forward, but the first move can be two squares).
Across from him, Harry paused, stunned: "Ron..."
Quirrell's eyes widened even more: "Damn Weasley!"
Ron ignored him completely and shouted urgently to Harry, "Harry, this is the last resort! The other pieces are no longer obeying me, so I have to move them myself to regain control. Listen to me, take this opportunity and follow my steps as quickly as possible... Harry Potter! What are you waiting for?!"
"I..."
"Give me back what?! You must win the game, Harry! You must get the Philosopher's Stone! That thing absolutely cannot fall into the hands of that damned Dark Lord!"
Ron roared with all his might, his face flushed red.
Tears welled in his eyes, and he had to roar to mask his fear, because not far ahead lay the white-controlled territory. Just a few more steps and he would enter the king's circle, into the attack range of the white bishop guarding the king, and be "forced to his death"—this was the mechanic of Wizard Chess.
But as he said, this is a last resort.
He could only buy Harry time to fight back by sacrificing himself!
"Ha—" Dumbledore clapped his hands and let out a loud laugh: "Look, Vaughn, you have a brother of noble character!"
Vaughn remained expressionless.
"What, aren't you happy? What a good boy! He's willing to sacrifice himself for his friends and for his responsibilities!" Dumbledore wiped his eyes with emotion. "It seems I misunderstood him before. Just before today, I thought he was the one who led Harry astray."
"Excuse me, but I only see reckless courage. In my eyes, this behavior is foolish!"
"Don't be so harsh. Although he is indeed a bit slow, this test is not about intelligence, but about friendship, thinking, and a sense of responsibility. Ron has at least two of those qualities, right? Even if he is a fool, he is a fool with noble character."
"Heh, still a fool!"
"Well..."
Below, Quirrell's eyes narrowed dangerously when he heard Ron mention "the Dark Lord".
His sinister gaze swept over Ron, Harry, and Hermione, his thoughts unreadable.
Harry, however, was already in tears.
But he still gave the order while crying, taking advantage of Ron's own movement to invade the black side with most of the white pieces, including himself and Hermione.
Launch a full-scale attack!
One by one, the white stones were destroyed during the attack, but the result was that even more black stones were destroyed.
The White Queen, like a war goddess, chopped the Black pieces to pieces. This piece, which can move horizontally, vertically, and diagonally without any grid restrictions, is truly a crusher.
With Ron deliberately causing trouble, Quirrell was exhausted and covered in sweat in his efforts to regain control.
But this sharp attack had to be stopped.
Harry, seeing the situation improving and feeling victory was within his grasp, directed the White Queen to smash another black pawn. He turned around and stopped Ron from advancing further: "Don't go any further, Ron. Watch me now!"
At this moment, Ron was only one square away from the White Bishop's attack range. This was only because Harry took a moment to make the bishop step back two steps to create enough space.
Looking at the bishop's enormous scepter, almost as thick as his own waist, Ron's courage quickly turned into cold sweat.
"Okay, Harry!" Ron heeded Harry's advice; if the situation allowed, he certainly didn't want to die.
However, such situations are usually followed by a "but"!
but...
"They've been fooled," Dumbledore exclaimed.
Vaughn nodded silently.
Harry was too young and inexperienced. He thought he had the upper hand and could manipulate Quirrell at will, but he forgot that Quirrell's greatest strength was his patience.
Endure until Ron stops causing trouble, endure until you regain control, endure until Harry shows a weakness!
When Ron stopped advancing and Quirrell regained control, he immediately moved a pre-arranged piece to the right front of the White Queen.
Harry, who was closing in on the second line and cornering the Black King at the bottom line, couldn't help but laugh when he saw Quirrell so overwhelmed. He ordered the White Queen to press forward and eliminate this soldier who had come to their doorstep.
Next, if the White Queen continues to advance, she will be able to defeat the Black King...?
"Black Queen, advance one step!"
Quirrell cried out in a shrill voice.
Harry's laughter suddenly subsided, and he stared blankly at the chessboard.
Beads of cold sweat slowly seeped from his forehead!
He suddenly realized that with Quirrell's move, the black queen, who had been huddled at the edge of the board and hadn't moved an inch, had instantly become the most powerful weapon to protect the king.
There was also an unremarkable black chariot huddled in the corner of A8, and a G7-ranked black bishop guarding the black king!
These three moves have almost completely blocked all his options. Once his piece moves forward, it will be immediately captured by the black rook or the black queen. The white queen is completely locked down. Moving forward will be captured by the black bishop, and moving to the side will expose the black queen's attack route.
what to do?
The sudden turn of events not only terrified Harry, but also left Ron speechless with surprise—his attention had been so focused on the power struggle with Quirrell that he hadn't noticed this.
Even Hermione, who was terrible at chess, noticed Quirrell's three traps at this moment, and she couldn't help but look at Harry and Ron: "Isn't there any other way?"
Is there no other way?
Ha vigorously rubbed his glasses, his sweat soaking the lenses, his face flushed red, as he tried desperately to think of a solution.
On the other side, Ron was pale and kept swallowing. There was actually a solution—
By letting Quirrell lose the initiative and allowing him to regain control, he made a terrible move!
However, if he took another step forward, he would fall into the White Bishop's attack range, and the White Bishop was already at the bottom line and could not retreat any further, and might even have to eat Ron.
That was its duty; it had to protect the king!
"The king's circle in Wizard Chess automatically captures pieces, which costs one move, but this rule applies to both sides, and can be taken advantage of!"
"As long as I take one more step forward, I must not let Quirrell take the initiative!"
Large beads of sweat soaked through Ron's clothes. He looked at the white bishop's cold gaze from the angle, and at the enormous scepter.
Looking at the scattered pieces on the chessboard.
Fear gripped his heart. Who wouldn't be afraid in the face of such a cruel scene?
But...
Ron suddenly remembered Quirrell's earlier use of the word "lackey," and the contempt and sarcasm the other person had shown when he mentioned it.
From childhood to adulthood, he seemed to have always been surrounded by similar gazes.
When he was very young, he was Vaughn's sidekick. Although they were twins, he was known to everyone, including his parents, brothers, neighbors, and relatives of the Weasley family who rarely visited him.
Everyone only had eyes for Vaughn, and intentionally or unintentionally ignored him.
Now that he's grown up, he's Harry's sidekick. Although they entered school together, he's seen differently by other students and professors.
People still only see Harry, and their knowledge of him is limited to "Harry Potter's sidekick" and "the red-haired Weasley".
He didn't blame those people for ignoring him; he had always known that compared to Vaughn and Harry, he was just an ordinary kid.
He never achieved anything remarkable; he didn't have Vaughn's talent, nor did he have Harry's accomplishment of killing the Dark Lord.
He is just an ordinary person. Only by acknowledging his ordinariness can he find his place in this world, even if it's just as a follower!
But... ordinary people have dreams too!
Just like Harry once said, everyone has a dream of becoming a hero hidden in their heart.
"I want to be a hero!"
Thinking this, Ron Weasley, the freckled boy who usually seemed unremarkable, met the bishop's cold gaze and shouted, "Hermione, move forward one step!"
Harry, who was still deep in thought, suddenly turned around and reached out to stop her, but Hermione, who had more faith in Ron's chess skills and was more composed, had already moved forward one square as instructed.
As she finished walking, facing the white bishop who had already slightly raised his scepter, Ron's expression was resolute. Before Quirrell could issue the order, he jumped with all his might!
Thump!
The black pillar, under his control, slammed heavily onto the chessboard, the sound striking Ron's ears and Harry's heart.
"No--"
Harry's piercing screams came from afar, distorted as if they were drifting from a distant world. Ron gently closed his eyes.
He heard the wind whistling as the bishop swung his scepter, felt the heavy object tearing through the air, and sensed the impending gust of wind pressure.
With all his might, he screamed his last words in a hoarse, strained voice:
"Harry, this is all I can do for you. Hermione will protect your back. As long as you move the White Queen diagonally one space, the Black Queen will have to eat the White Queen in order to protect the King, and Hermione can then eat her. At that point, you can move up to the bottom line and level up!"
Boom—
With a deafening crash, the White Bishop's heavy scepter slammed down, sending up billowing dust.
Harry, bound to his spot by the rules of the chessboard, could only watch helplessly as Ron, like a doll, was flung out of the smoke amidst a terrifying shockwave and shattered rubble.
He rolled around a few times on the smooth chessboard surface and lay there motionless.
Ron...
Harry reached out his hand in confusion and in vain, only to see the chessboard square suddenly melt like asphalt, swallowing Ron up.
"Ron—!"
Pain and regret gripped his chest, then transformed into hatred!
He knew why Ron had sacrificed himself, he knew who had caused it all. He turned around abruptly, his eyes, filled with tears and bloodshot, fixed on Quirrell.
He had never hated anyone as much as he did at this moment!
I wish I could eat its flesh raw!
...
"Waaaaah, this is so touching!"
Dumbledore wiped his eyes and blew his nose loudly.
Vaughn, standing next to him, rolled his eyes in disgust. "He's not dead, why are you crying?"
"Don't you find this kind of sacrifice for friendship incredibly moving? Merlin's beard, is your heart made of iron?"
Dumbledore sobbed in protest, but Vaughn ignored him, unfolding the "key" to the world in the painting that he had been holding and turning a few symbols.
With a twist of space, the unconscious Ron was teleported over and slammed onto the soft magic carpet, kicking up a cloud of dust.
And... there's a strange smell...
Dumbledore's sobbing stopped abruptly.
He secretly tilted his head and, along with Vaughn whose lips were twitching, looked at Ron's pants, which seemed to be damp.
"...Did he pee his pants in fear...?"
"Probably..."
"..." The two foxes, one big and one small, looked at each other in bewilderment.
After a moment of silence, Dumbledore stroked his beard, deep in thought: "Could it be that the attack power of the chess piece I designed was too realistic? But he's a wizard, wouldn't he feel whether it hits him or not? Why is he so frightened?"
Vaughn rubbed his temples, utterly speechless.
Given that the odor leaked by someone was far too strong, and that the magically sealed space lacked sufficient airflow to disperse it, the situation was dire.
Ultimately, Vaughn had no choice but to reopen the "key" and teleport Ron away again.
We can't let that guy ruin this perfect opportunity to watch the show!
After teleporting Ron away, although ashamed of his brother's behavior, Vaughn still had to say a few words in his defense: "He probably drank a lot of water before coming in. You know, once a person is unconscious, they can be a little out of control..."
"Yes, yes, I understand... Oh, look, Harry is starting to transform!"
Dumbledore abruptly changed the subject, and Vaughn sighed, saying nothing more, and also looked down.
Promotion is an important rule in Wizard Chess; its full name is Pawn Promotion.
As the name suggests, in Wizard Chess, when a piece moves to the opponent's back rank, it can be transformed into any piece except the King and Pawns.
Knights, bishops, chariots, and even queens!
In many chess games, this is a crucial killing move that can turn defeat into victory. Generally, when the move reaches the point where promotion is required, it usually means that both sides are close to their doom.
Therefore, 99% of those who ascend will choose to become queens.
Because it is the most powerful piece in Wizarding Chess, Harry, who was overwhelmed by anger and hatred at the moment, was no exception.
Chapter 116 Harry Potter and the Queen
On the vast chessboard, Harry's hoarse roar echoed. In order for him to advance, the White Queen sacrificed herself, exchanging her for the enemy's Black Queen.
Hermione was exposed to the enemy's encirclement.
Ron... Ron...
The earth trembled, and tears filled his emerald eyes, reflecting the suddenly darkening sky, the howling wind, and the flying sand and stones.
The lightning, like a silver snake, danced on the horizon.
The reflection shows Quirrell's increasingly terrified expression!
strength...
A violent power surged through Harry's body, and he felt his vision rise, so high that Quirrell looked like an... ant!
Vaughn looked up at the "world" created by alchemy.
The magical light that appeared in his eyes was dazzling and mysterious, like a cool morning mist floating before his eyes, reflecting the bright, pale blue sky with a hint of gold through the gaps in the forest.
The brightness of magical light is never intense; rather, it is like a stream of water, coming gently and flowing away, yet penetrating everywhere.
Just like now.
Below, Harry was undergoing an ascension, his entire body changing. Gray stone patterns, like some kind of spreading disease, climbed up from his feet and covered his whole body.
Boom, boom...
The chessboard, like molten cement, rushed towards Harry, making a sound like stones rubbing and colliding. In the blink of an eye, he was encased in a stone statue about 8 feet tall.
He was tall and elegant, dressed in elaborate yet angular clothing, wearing a crown and holding a 6-foot-long stone sword.
queen!
Her transformation and birth seemed to resonate with the entire "world," causing the earth to tremble, dark clouds to roll in, and lightning to flash and thunder to roar.
These anomalies were not "special effects" set up by Dumbledore.
In Vaughn's eyes, he could clearly see that during Harry's transformation, the symbols throughout the world depicted in the painting were flashing violently.
The countless symbols in the field of vision resembled the lights of an amusement park, spinning endlessly and flickering erratically. The tremors of the earth, the dark clouds, and the lightning were all manifestations of their overloaded operation.
Even with Vaughn's rudimentary alchemy skills, he could sense the immense amount of magic and the profound power required for this "transformation."
Essentially, it is transforming a 12-year-old boy, who is basically powerless, into a magical creation with great destructive power!
"ah--"
Harry screamed at the top of his lungs, his voice filled with unmistakable hatred and rage. The towering Queen statue, now transformed, bent slightly under his control and then sprang out with a bang!
The white squares of the chessboard cracked and shattered beneath his feet, and in the instant a white shockwave spread out, the queen's statue blurred for a moment—
Then it becomes clear.
It had already covered several feet and leaped behind the Black King. Only then did a loud bang erupt behind him, leaving a trail of cracks and white shockwaves.
At the same time, the Black King's body shattered, breaking in two at the waist.
Large chunks and fine stone chips, mixed with air currents and dust, scattered outwards, signifying the end of this unfinished game.
But everyone knows that things are far from over!
The instant the game ended, Quirrell realized that the mysterious force that had bound him from moving freely on the chessboard had vanished.
He saw the Queen, whom Harry had transformed into, turn around about twenty feet away, and he saw the greatsword raised again.
The transformation is not over yet!
The chessboard can no longer restrict movement!
So, Harry, consumed by anger and hatred, who will the Queen he controls next "eat up"?
Even a fool could figure that out!
The electric shock punishment in the world of the painting is very painful. In order not to disturb the master, he not only dares not use the master's remaining strength to resist, but also has to expend magic power to "protect" the master from being disturbed.
But no matter how painful the electric shock, it can never be more important than life.
Therefore, Quirrell drew his wand almost instantly, waved it, and chanted the spell—
"Obstacles are numerous!"
Thump!
As the incantation was uttered, a thick, viscous force field formed in front of him, causing violent ripples, followed by shrieks and roars as the air was torn apart.
The queen's afterimage vanished from the spot, her towering figure already crashing into the force field of the barrier spell.
"Damn it!" Cold sweat broke out on Quirrell's forehead. The force of the violent impact made him dizzy.
He dared not pause for a moment and waved his wand again.
"Torn apart!"
"Thunderous explosion!"
The magical light exploded continuously on the queen's body, and the terrifying power felt like high-speed cannonballs hitting her. The queen staggered back two steps.
But that's all!
Seeing that his magic couldn't even create a small crater on the Queen, Quirrell's expression tightened, and he swung his wand even harder, unleashing two consecutive "Thunder Explosions" that engulfed the Queen in flames.
Immediately afterward, he turned around quickly, and a silent red light of the "Disarming Charm" rushed towards Hermione—or more accurately, the flying broom that Hermione had been holding!
No matter how cowardly he may have appeared in the past, it was just an act. The real Quirrell is a mature wizard, an excellent one, who dares to choose Ravenclaw as his training ground in the Balkans.
No matter how humble a dog may appear in front of its owner, it may still be a German Shepherd, a Caucasian Shepherd, a wolfhound, etc., fierce, cunning, and decisive when facing the outside world!
Just like Quirrell right now!
When he realized that his magic was no match for Harry, he almost immediately changed his target, or rather, he had already made a plan in his mind from the moment he met Harry and Hermione.
That wasn't because she foresaw the current situation, but because Hermione had a flying broom in her hand!
Regardless of their school of thought, in the modern spell system, the most important thing for wizards is always mobility. Given the current restrictions on free spell casting, flying brooms are undoubtedly the best choice for maintaining mobility.
However, to Quirrell's surprise, the nerdy Hermione Granger, whom he had heard of before, was not the bookworm type.
The red light of the "Disarming Charm" had just shot out from the tip of his staff when Hermione had already chanted the incantation:
"Armor protects you!"
Although in Quirrell's view, the girl's Ironclad Spell was very naive, the thin film of light as fragile as a soap bubble.
But she ultimately succeeded in making a defensive play.
She was always on guard against him!
The red light arrived swiftly, and with a pop, Hermione's armor spell shattered. Quirrell followed closely behind, casting another disarming spell that struck her.
The powerful magic sent her flying, and her wand and the flying broom she was holding also spun and bounced into the air under the influence of the magic.
All of this happened in the blink of an eye.
On the other side, Harry, who had just suffered a setback, roared as he controlled the Queen to smash the rolling cloud of explosions in front of him, creating a huge crater in the ground beneath his feet.
Woohoo—
The air emitted a sound like a train whistle, the cry of a massive object tearing through the air at high speed!
Quirrell didn't dare to cause any trouble. Ignoring Hermione and her wand, he quickly flicked his wand, pulled the flying broom in front of him, and jumped onto it without wasting a second.
The next instant, the ground where he had been standing exploded!
The spherical shockwave resembled a firecracker exploding underwater, creating a cavity. The white gas wave visibly expanded, carrying debris and the image of the "Queen" reappearing, her giant sword cleaving the ground!
With a curse, Quirrell ignored the pain in his legs and buttocks from the splinters, gripped his broom tightly, and fled into the depths of the forest!
Quirrell never imagined that one day he would be hunted down by children under 12 years old.
Harry never imagined that one day he would be chasing after an adult wizard while carrying a sword.
In fact, he had already lost his mind by this time. Pain and regret filled every corner of his brain. The cool feeling brought by the brain blockade became insignificant in the face of his burning anger.
"The Chessboard Town endgame is over. Settlement will now begin..."
The narrator's voice rang in his ears, but he didn't listen. Driven by anger, he instinctively used the powerful strength he had suddenly gained to chase after the figure fleeing towards the forest.
His strength was so great that if he picked up a stone and threw it, it would produce a deafening roar.
The stone trailed a trail and whistled, like a cannonball.
Unfortunately, its aim was far off. It roared as it flew about 10 feet to the right of Quirrell, then flew aimlessly over the forest for a while before crashing!
In the distance, the groans and loud crashes of falling trees could be heard.
Harry could see Quirrell, who was in mid-air, turn his head back as if to mock him, but at that moment, as Harry stared angrily, a bolt of lightning struck down from the sky.
Click!
The moment the thunderous explosion blasted into their ears, lightning engulfed Quirrell, and his small figure, billowing smoke, plummeted downwards.
"That's a rule-breaking electric shock punishment!"
Harry's dazed mind suddenly cleared up, but instead of feeling excited, he abruptly turned back to look at Chessboard Town.
Then another bolt of lightning struck from the sky, heading towards Qipan Town.
It's Hermione!
Sure enough, his mind cleared, and he heard the narrator's voice: "...Quirino Quirinas, Hermione Granger, punishment complete!"
"Hermione..."
Harry hesitated, glancing at the direction Quirrell had fallen, then at Checkerboard Town where a wisp of smoke was rising, and gradually stopped his pursuit.
After a moment, he clenched his fist.
Ron... Ron is gone. He simply couldn't bear to watch another comrade's fate remain unknown...
"hateful!"
...
"hateful!"
Vaughn stared at Dumbledore, and although he didn't say anything, his eyes clearly conveyed a similar meaning.
Old Deng's hand, stroking his white beard, froze: "Uh... would you believe me if I said I didn't expect Granger to break the rules?"
"Heh... In that situation, what else could she do but fight back and wait to die? You should be glad Quirrell only used a disarming spell; if it had been dark magic..."
"Don't laugh like that. I don't know why, but I always feel like you're insulting me." Dumbledore sighed, but still explained, "There can't be any dark magic. I've made very detailed arrangements for this, completely based on Harry, Weasley, and Granger's personalities and strengths."
"The only solution to the endgame that I asked Minerva to plan is to push Harry to become a god. Ron's'sacrifice' was also expected, including Harry's emotional breakdown, which was also part of the plan."
"Faced with Harry, who gained immense power after his Ascension but also lost his mind, Quirinas was simply incapable of casting Dark Magic. My dear, you've studied the corruption of Dark Magic, so you should be able to tell that Quirinas's Dark Magic skills are very poor. In a situation where the opportunity is fleeting, even if he could cast Dark Magic, its power would probably only be enough to tickle him."
"As for the punishment, you know that the first punishment is not serious, just a little bit of pain, as a warning."
Vaughn remained noncommittal: "I hope this is the last time, Albus. Now that Harry has 'ascended' and has the ability to fight Quirrell, that rule against the use of magic can be lifted, right?"
He had some understanding of the contract, so he didn't make a demand that "the punishment should only be directed at Quirrell".
The basic framework of the rules originates from contracts, and the magic of those contracts can disregard the will of others and force everyone to abide by the rules because it treats everyone equally.
Any wizard who enters the gate agrees to the contract by default, unless they are its creator or possess its key.
Dumbledore nodded repeatedly: "Of course, my dear. In my original plan, the next level would remove the rule restrictions. To be honest, there's no way to keep them in place..."
He looked at the wisps of black smoke rising from the distant forest: "Sigh, if this continues, Tom might not be able to sit still!"
Quirrell was never a threat; if it weren't for the Socket Man sticking to the back of his head, he wouldn't even be worthy of being the savior's opponent.
Even Dumbledore's contracts and rules can only restrict Quirrell and the trio; they would probably be useless against Socket Man.
Even though the Socket Hero is just a remnant soul, his magic and knowledge are still at the level of the former Dark Lord.
Having received Dumbledore's promise, Vaughn fell silent, looking down at Harry—he had given up chasing Quirrell and was preparing to return to Chessboard Town to rescue Hermione.
"What a good boy, isn't Vaughn?"
Dumbledore started wiping away tears again.
This time, however, Vaughn did not ignore him, but nodded.
However, he was more interested in Harry's current state than Harry's character: "What kind of magic is keeping Harry transformed? It's somewhat like Transfiguration, but not quite."
"An ancient form of magic, or rather, an ancient form of transmutation, my dear."
Dumbledore's answer touched on Vaughn's blind spot. He didn't know much about ancient magic. As an obsolete magic system, ancient magic did have its advantages, but its disadvantages outweighed its advantages.
For example, stringent conditions for its application.
To give a rather brutal example, one of the important reasons why wizards were persecuted by the witch hunts driven by Muggles during the thousand years from the Middle Ages to the full development of the modern spell system was that the mainstream ancient magic system at that time was too slow to activate and difficult to quickly form combat power.
In the documents Vaughn saw, many wizards were captured by Muggles before the magical rituals were even prepared. Not only did they fail to cast the spells, but the traces of the rituals became evidence confirming their wizarding status...
Of course, if he has the time, Vaughn will also learn and master it, and even study it in depth.
After all, it is the previous generation of the modern spell system, closer to the original form of magic, and is still of great research value.
In particular, this ancient magic is a form of shapeshifting!
Seemingly sensing Vaughn's interest, Dumbledore smiled and said, "This magic is actually not uncommon in modern times. Some countries still use it, like Africa, where Egypt is located. If you are interested, perhaps we can take the opportunity to do an academic visit during the summer vacation!"
As he spoke, he winked and said, "As the continent with the most severe modern divisions, many werewolves choose to hide in East and South Africa. As far as I know, Vargadu even retains the tradition of running werewolf training classes!"
Vargadu's reputation in the global magical world is not very prominent, much like its home continent of Africa, where people associate it with poverty, backwardness, and chaos.
And that is indeed the case...
To most wizards, the name Vagado is like a lost realm from a fairy tale—to put it nicely, it's ancient and mysterious; to put it bluntly, it's backward and barbaric.
At least that was Vaughn's first impression when he heard Dumbledore mention it.
Upon hearing that Old Deng was going to take him on an academic visit, he thought for a moment and asked, "Where is Waggadu?"
"Moon Mountain in Uganda".
"Uganda…" Vaughn began to recall his past and present lives, and his impressions of this East African country.
Unfortunately, his knowledge of Uganda is limited to that of Amin, the cannibalistic ruler who is still alive.
Upon careful recollection, all that seems to come to mind is war and turmoil.
Seemingly understanding his thoughts, he looked intently at Dumbledore below, stroked his beard and smiled: "The situation in the African wizarding world is much better than in Muggle society. Muggles may be forced into a state of division for a long time for various reasons, but Muggle governments cannot interfere with wizards."
"Wizards still wield considerable influence in Africa, where the Secret Law is relatively relaxed, and many Muggle tribes maintain close ties with wizards."
"It's undeniable that they are quite closed off, only beginning to accept wands and the modern spell system a century ago, but that doesn't mean they're backward. I guarantee you'll be interested in their hand gestures and dance magic, which are inherited from ancient Egypt and then modernized. They're close to the spell system while retaining some characteristics of ancient magic, which is very interesting."
As he listened, Vaughn's interest was gradually piqued.
The literature he had previously encountered did not contain much description of the African magical world and Vagado; he only knew that they rarely used wands and spells, but instead used gestures and dances as mediums for casting spells.
Looking back now, it does resemble ancient magical rituals.
Vaughn nodded: "Then let's do an academic visit during the summer vacation. How's the werewolf situation there?"
"It's rampant, my dear." Dumbledore's smile faded, and he sighed, "As I said before, the chaotic situation of the Muggle regimes in Africa means that dark wizards are completely unrestrained there. Without a stable social order, the spread of wolf disease is naturally unstoppable."
"If it weren't for the unique shapeshifting abilities of the Vargadu wizards, the magical world over there would probably have been taken over by werewolves and vampires long ago—there's no need for attacks; Muggles who can't survive don't care about life or suffering at all, they might even actively seek to be infected!"
"In fact, even if we don't mention it, Vagad will probably invite you to visit by the end of this year at the latest. Babajid Akinbad submitted an application to the International Wizarding Federation to observe the Werewolf Affairs Committee a few days ago. He will become one of the members of the Werewolf Affairs Committee in the next few years."
Vaughn murmured the strange yet somewhat familiar name to himself and asked, "Who is he?"
"Babajid Akinbad?"
Upon receiving Vaughn's confirmation, Dumbledore replied with a smile, "Headmaster Vagado, the representative of African wizards, is a leader of the emerging forces in the International Confederation of Wizards in recent years. If nothing unexpected happens, he will likely succeed me as the new president when I leave office or die."
Oh, yet another power-hungry animal!
Vaughn immediately lost interest; rather than trying to understand a future president, he'd rather focus his energy on observing Harry's changes.
After storing this brief conversation in his memory archive, Vaughn stopped talking and turned his attention back down. He "saw" that the crisscrossing symbols in the entire space, after operating at overload for a period of time, were beginning to gradually decay.
"Is the upgrade about to end?" Vaughn asked, guessing.
Dumbledore nodded: "That's normal. After all, it's an external force. Harry's own magic has been resisting it, but it's enough to fight Quirinus."
"I hope so!"
...
Hermione didn't know what a real electric shock felt like. In all her life, she had only seen one case of electric shock, which was when the twins secretly conducted an experiment and sent Ron to the school hospital.
Ron was bedridden for two whole days that time, being forced to drink countless potions by Madam Pomfrey.
The electric shocks in the world of the painting are definitely not that kind of thing. They might be some kind of magic, and the main target of the damage is not the body, but... magic power?
After convulsing a few times, Hermione got up from the ground, her hands trembling as she felt the condition inside her body.
Something's wrong. The magic that usually flows smoothly seems to be interfered with by something, and it's starting to become sluggish and difficult.
But that was it. The first electric shock punishment seemed to be just a warning, and Hermione could feel that her condition was improving.
This discovery further convinced her that the world in the painting was likely the testing ground carefully prepared by Dumbledore and Vaughn.
Trials Harry and Quirrell!
What exactly are they trying to do?
The girl sat there blankly, feeling lost.
Just then, the trees in the distance swayed and parted, and Hermione turned to see a giant gray queen statue emerge from the woods.
She wasn't nervous because she recognized him; it was Harry who had become the Queen.
Not long ago, she witnessed the other party unleashing terrifying destructive power.
Sure enough, upon seeing her, the "Queen" strode over: "Hermione, how are you?"
"I'm fine, Harry..."
Hearing that familiar question, Hermione felt a warmth in her heart. She knew that Harry must have returned specifically because he was worried about her.
In the year since they met, Harry has certainly had many flaws, and he and Ron often give her headaches.
However, he still has many good qualities, such as his seriousness and sincerity in friendship.
He would abandon the hunt for Quirrell because he was worried about her, and because of Ron... Ron... uh...
Thinking of Ron, Hermione's expression stiffened, and she couldn't help but look back at the chessboard that had swallowed Ron.
Seemingly noticing her movement, the "Queen," who was striding towards them, suddenly stopped, like a silent stone, devoid of any sound.
He was very sad...
As this thought crossed her mind, Hermione saw the Queen, who was no longer moving, covered in large swaths of stone dust.
The upgrade is about to be lifted!
Stone chips, like sandstorms whipped up by a gale, peeled off the queen's statue and drifted into the void behind it, causing the statue's size to shrink rapidly.
Before long, it had completely disappeared, leaving only a thin little boy kneeling on the edge of the chessboard, his eyes blurry with tears, sobbing and crying.
"Hermione...Ron, Ron is dead..."
...
Achoo!
When Ron woke up, before he could even figure out where he was, he sneezed loudly.
"Damn it, who's cursing me?"
Mumbled something groggily, then Ron sat up, rubbed his eyes, looked ahead, and then raised his head higher and higher, gradually opening his mouth wide.
who I am?
Where am I?
Wasn't I helping Harry play chess? Where's Chessboard Town? Where are Harry and Hermione?
What is this thing in front of me?
Countless thoughts assaulted Ron's mind, almost paralyzing his body and brain. Only his light blue eyes remained functional, reflecting a terrifying figure that gradually revealed its true form as he slowly raised his head.
Fire Dragon!
A fully grown fire dragon!
It sat crouching on its thick hind legs, with forepaws and spiky membranous wings, standing before Ron like a mountain wall covered with wrinkles and ravines.
Ron had to strain to look up to see the head above the membrane wing, covered in rough scales, menacing spikes, a long nose, and sharp teeth.
It also has a dark ridge that runs along the head and down to the back.
It looks aggressive, as if every part of its body is etched with violence and cruelty!
This is a Norwegian Spinosaurus!
Ron, who had specifically researched how to help Hagrid feed Norber, recalled the breed of Norber and paused for a moment before finally realizing what was happening. He let out a scream and tried to run away.
Then he heard a deafening roar.
The sound waves vibrated the air, creating pressure that squeezed Ron's eardrums, causing him to lose his hearing briefly. His ears rang, and he lost his balance. Before he could run two steps, he collapsed to the ground.
Immediately afterward, Ron felt something grab him, and when he looked down, he almost fainted—it was a claw covered in rough scales, each one looking thicker than him, gripping him like an adult grabbing a mouse!
Ron was terrified, tears streaming down his face, and struggled desperately.
But the beast that seized him was cruel and merciless, toying with him like a mouse, dragging him back in front of it, placing him down, and then bending one of its claws.
Thump!
Flick it on his forehead!
The seemingly gentle movement felt like a punch to Ron; his mind went blank, and he collapsed to the ground with a buzzing in his ears.
It took him a while to recover. He had just sat up, but before he could do anything...
The enormous claw, still attached to its membranous wings, grabbed him again, set him still, bent its claw, and flicked his head...
Thump!
Ron: "@_@..."
After that, the process basically repeated itself. Ron, who felt like his brain was being shaken to its core after being hit on the head several times, finally regained consciousness once more, and wisely lay down on the ground, raised his hands, and shouted:
"Stop fighting! I surrender!"
Snap.
A huge, sharp claw landed in front of him, the dust it kicked up made him cough, but it didn't grab him again.
Ron breathed a sigh of relief, feeling weak all over, filled with the fear of surviving a disaster, and a little bit of relief—thankfully, he could still communicate!
The enormous claw that was pinned in front of him slowly retracted, and then a deep, resonant breathing sound gradually approached his head.
Ron quietly raised his head.
Above him, a pair of vertical pupils stared unblinkingly at him.
Whether it was a trick of the eye or not, Ron seemed to see human-like emotions in those eyes, like... mockery?
Knowing that dragons' intelligence was almost comparable to that of humans, Ron immediately racked his brains, trying to recall if he had ever seen one before.
Having witnessed the fire dragon and been hit on the head several times, Ron realized that he was probably still inside the mechanism guarding the Philosopher's Stone.
He hadn't forgotten that back in Fairy Tale Town, he and Quirrell had been punished by the fire dragon for failing a mission.
"Could it be that fire dragon?"
Thinking it over, Ron forced a smile and racked his brains for flattering words to get closer to the giant beast in front of him.
Just then, he heard the narration begin.
"Your betrayal of your companions has attracted the attention of the great and ruthless dragon Norbeta. She both admires your despicable behavior and despises your shamelessness. Now, Ron Weasley, your fate is in the hands of Lady Norbeta. You need to please her to get back into the game!"
"Re-entering the game? Does that mean I was already eliminated in Chessboard Town? As long as I appease this fire dragon, I can go back?"
While Ron was trying to analyze the narration, he glanced up again furtively.
Above him, those terrifying vertical pupils still stared at him mockingly, seemingly with a hint of expectation.
Ron didn't think too deeply about it, still lost in his own thoughts. Of course he wanted to go back; Harry and Hermione needed his help, they needed him to fight Quirrell with them!
So it seems he has to please the dragon!
"The narrator says'she,' is that a female dinosaur? Damn it, female Norwegian Ridgebacks are far more ferocious than males. If Norber had stayed behind... wait..."
Ron's freckles suddenly turned white and transparent.
He stiffly raised his head, looking at the dragon's bulging eyes, its long nose, and its wrinkled membranes above...
Scenes I had almost forgotten suddenly resurfaced before my eyes—
"...It's a mother dragon, Hagrid…"
"How about we rename it Noberta?"
Ron's lips trembled, and the ingratiating smile on his face became more like a grimace under the sudden shock of some truth.
He forced out a groan, choked with sobs: "Noberta?"
"Roar—caw caw caw!"
Norbert let out a grating cry that was hard to tell if it was a roar or a laugh. She raised her long neck, which was so thin it was practically skin and bones, yet had lines that were as hard as if it were sculpted, and spewed flames into the air.
He looked extremely happy.
But those vertical pupils became increasingly narrow, like a venomous snake that had detected its prey and was filled with the desire to attack!
She extended a membranous wing, her claws gripped Ron again, positioned him, and repeated the previous steps, extending her claws—
Thump!