Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 221: A Low-Difficulty Quest

Kyle frowned as he surveyed the empty room. Whether as a Hufflepuff or the one responsible for this situation, he felt it was his duty to help Professor Sprout cover this small oversight.

However, retrieving the Devil’s Snare from the Room of Requirement up on the eighth floor would waste too much time. By the time he returned, Quirrell might already be nothing but ash. So, Kyle opted for an alternative solution.

He opened his suitcase and took out all the Chomping Cabbages he had brought, arranging them carefully beneath the trapdoor. There were around thirty in total—enough to fully cover the spot previously occupied by the Devil’s Snare.

He’d initially “borrowed” just two seeds from Professor Sprout’s greenhouse, but now, by placing them here, he was repaying the debt tenfold.

Kyle nodded with satisfaction at his setup. This was the kind of security required to protect the Philosopher’s Stone. His prior use of Devil’s Snare had been a bit of a joke, thrown together without much thought. Now, he hoped Professor Quirrell, who’d soon come through this room, would have an appreciation for Chomping Cabbage and understand their habits and weaknesses. Otherwise... he’d be in for a bit of a surprise.

As for Harry, Kyle wasn’t concerned. He had a strong hunch that Harry would be just fine.

With that done, Kyle hopped back onto his broom and flew down the stone corridor, soon reaching Professor Flitwick’s checkpoint. In the brightly lit room, countless winged keys buzzed around under the high, arched ceiling like flocks of little birds. A row of old broomsticks leaned by the entrance—three in total.

“Three broomsticks… Clever, but something about Professor Flitwick’s work here doesn’t add up,” Kyle muttered.

Rather than rushing to solve the puzzle, Kyle took out his wand and pointed at the broomsticks in the corner, murmuring, “Depulso!”

The three broomsticks floated up and flew out along the stone corridor, vanishing out of sight. Kyle wasn’t sure where they’d end up, but it didn’t matter as long as they were no longer in the room.

Once the brooms were out of the way, Kyle hopped off his own broom and walked to the other end of the room. The Winged Keys continued fluttering around harmlessly, and he made it to the door without a hitch. Taking out the master key, he slipped it into the lock and turned it gently. With a click, the door swung open.

In truth, this level was even more lackluster than Professor Sprout’s Devil’s Snare—it posed no real challenge. Even without a master key, anyone could have grabbed a Bowtruckle from the Forbidden Forest and gotten through with ease.

The next level, however, was Professor McGonagall’s handiwork, and it was far more intimidating.

The once-empty chessboard was now filled with looming black and white chess pieces. Each piece stood nearly two meters tall, carved from stone and emanating an intimidating, oppressive presence.

Kyle frowned, feeling a little uneasy. His skills in Wizard’s Chess were average at best. He found the game entertaining in casual settings but wasn’t confident he could beat McGonagall’s enchanted chessboard.

Fortunately, he had an alternative plan. It was a bit unconventional—and perhaps a touch impolite—but he hoped Professor McGonagall would understand.

With a quick motion, Kyle opened his suitcase and released the Troll.

“I need to get to the other side.”

The Troll tilted its head, processing Kyle’s request. After a moment, it seemed to understand and lumbered onto the chessboard, brandishing its club. The white chess pieces moved to block its path, but they were no match; they shattered to pieces under the Troll’s powerful swings, crumbling like fragile clay.

Kyle followed closely behind the Troll, making his way to the door on the far side. Behind him, the shattered chess pieces were slowly piecing themselves back together, but he paid them no mind. He simply stowed the Troll back in his suitcase and continued down the next corridor.

The following room was also occupied by a group of Trolls, and an overwhelming stench filled the air, far more nauseating than the creatures themselves.

Kyle held his breath, casting a Disillusionment Charm to make himself less noticeable. The Trolls, oblivious, ignored him as he slipped past and hurried to the final room.

This room held only a table with seven bottles of various shapes and sizes. As soon as Kyle crossed the threshold, a purple flame flared up behind him, sealing off the entrance. Meanwhile, black flames sprang up at the door ahead, blocking his path forward. He was trapped between the two fires.

Approaching the table, Kyle picked up the parchment lying beside the bottles. It presented a logic puzzle, the kind that would be easy for a certain detective from Baker Street. Kyle wasn’t quite as fast with deductive reasoning, but he didn’t need it; he simply reached for the smallest bottle.

He pulled out the cork and peered inside at the dark liquid. After a moment’s hesitation, he decided against drinking it. The liquid’s color was simply too strange—it made him uneasy.

Besides, he knew one thing about Snape’s potions: they always tasted indescribably bad, unless someone else was the one drinking them. His friend Mikel, who’d sampled Snape’s Magic Suppressing Potion last year, had claimed the greenhouse fertilizer smelled sweeter by comparison. Kyle didn’t know if he was exaggerating, but he figured caution was wise. Knowing Snape, he might have added something…extra to the right potion.

Kyle set the bottle back on the table and raised his wand toward the black flames blocking his way. An orange glow began to pulse from the wand’s tip, spreading until it glowed bright orange. With a quick motion, Kyle plunged his wand into the ground.

“Finite!”

In an instant, both the purple and black flames extinguished, leaving the room in its original state.

Kyle let out a sigh of relief, silently grateful for Dumbledore’s ingenuity in converting this complex spell—originally cast by multiple wizards—into a single charm over twenty years ago. Without it, an ordinary General Counter-Spell might not have worked here.

He walked past the doorway and entered the final room.

Quirrell… or rather, Voldemort, hadn’t arrived yet. The room was empty except for a large mirror standing in the center.

The Mirror of Erised.

Kyle approached it, studying it as he walked in a slow circle around the mirror. He’d pondered how Dumbledore had hidden the Philosopher’s Stone within it and still didn’t have a clear answer. Kyle suspected that Dumbledore, an alchemy master, had disassembled the Mirror, embedded the Philosopher’s Stone inside, and reassembled it using advanced techniques.

That level of alchemical expertise was far beyond him, but for someone like Dumbledore, who’d befriended Nicolas Flamel in his youth, it might be child’s play. The silver instruments in the headmaster’s office, constantly emitting mysterious wisps of smoke, were likely Dumbledore’s own creations. Kyle wondered what their functions were, but he had no answers.