Dark Hogwarts

What did I feel? It was difficult to describe it in censored words. I can only say with confidence that all these tests were not intended for freshmen at all. Not even like that: nothing depended on us in them. Neither the accumulated knowledge, nor the magical improvement - none of our efforts in these almost five months since receiving the letter have been of any use at all in completing Dumbledore's task.

The only clue available to us was to guess at the unthinkable intricacy of hints and hints. And I am absolutely sure that if it had not been for my adult consciousness along with the first course, the students would never have been able to guess the way to pass the tests. Or, it would have happened much later.

We wouldn't have been able to cope with a plant in any way, and even more so with shadows. Even the revived armor had such spell protection that we couldn't break through if we wanted to-certainly not with our pool of studied spells.

And then why all this? Why is this complex relationship of traps and riddles? Why put students in mortal danger if they don't learn anything at the same time, but just get scared and suffer?

Up to this point, I had a fairly complete logical picture of the causes of the tinplate at Hogwarts. All the arguments and examples I saw showed me that Dumbledore, for some reason of his own, had set up this survival school for the sake of the idea of a kind of natural selection among wizards. So that weak students who couldn't adapt would inevitably either change or die in the process. The surviving students subsequently matured, became stronger, more resilient, and increased their own resistance to any threats and events in the future. I even had a hunch that in this way the director was preparing an army of capable fighters for his political and ideological ambitions.

But these trials? They did not fit into my constructed theory at all, thereby unsettling me. Moreover, their very passage was given to the students as purely voluntary, which allowed the disinterested, as well as the most cowardly and weak classmates not to take part in it and thus not risk their own lives. So, on top of everything else, it turned out that absolutely anyone could have died here!

For some reason, the plant chose to devour Seamus, although in terms of skills and abilities he had a much greater potential compared to the others.

The Shadow had initially grabbed Malfoy, although he was not at all as simple as he seemed in the first months of his studies. And even being a quiet one, the Slytherin received fairly good grades and coped satisfactorily with all the hardships of the castle. And you shouldn't forget which family he comes from.

Even the revived armor! In the catch-up with their participation, any of us could absurdly expose ourselves to their blow due to fatigue: both the most capable and the most conditionally useless relative to the majority.

So, if earlier I was firmly convinced that the student's abilities and skills are required in the castle, thanks to the improvement of which one can feel conditionally safe over time, now it begins to seem to me that our lives are not worth anything at all.... Since any of the eleven-year-old wizards are so easily ready to sacrifice in such crazy ventures, without pursuing any visible or understandable benefit.

And no matter how hard I tried, I could not find a single reason, except for the inexplicable and all-consuming madness of this world itself, in such an approach. My insight eventually brought not only a clue, but also threw up a dozen other puzzles that seemed to have no solution and were just a senseless pile of cruelty for the sake of this cruelty itself.

All these reflections flashed through my head as soon as I finally voiced to my classmates all that I had come to with my guesses. And not all of us needed a lot of time to think about it. Some of them coped with their thoughts much faster than they pushed the rest:

"We need to move on," Harry took the floor, while most of the students, including me, were still absorbing the acquired information, "now that we know the answer, no one else will die or get hurt. Now, thanks to Kyle, we have an advantage. If only I could have guessed sooner, because the teachers' advice relied on me...

"Don't blame yourself, Harry. First of all, their words were said for all of us, and you were just emphasized so that we would remember them. And secondly... For me, it was the most difficult mystery in my life, and I solved it myself only with the help of some miracle. I'm sorry, Harry, but your chances of coming up with answers before were very slim, like everyone else's," I got up from the floor, dusted off my dusty robe and began to come to my senses.

I shouldn't have lost my temper and reflected halfway through the journey - new challenges awaited us ahead, and at least two comrades suffered from wounds and injuries behind, who needed medical help as soon as possible.

"But if one test was built from each teacher,— Hermione frowned, —then this means that we still have to wait, how many?" Seven grand? — the mention of such a large number caused groans among the freshmen.

— Wait to despair, — I turned on my thinking, — so far we have only passed them from the main teachers... I don't think that additional lessons count - household magic and flying on broomsticks are taught for only a year, so it's not a fact that we will meet something on them. Well, combat magic... Physical activity was at the very beginning of our arrival here, with this staircase on the ceiling and the tiles... Perhaps this was the task of the Parapet? Well, don't forget about Beans, who didn't communicate with us at all, so I think he can be crossed off the list... That leaves us with Snape, Flitwick and Quirrell... Three trials. Let's at least try to think optimistically and assume that we have already overcome half the way, and the rest will be much easier thanks to our knowledge.

Although weak enough, I still managed to cheer up the exhausted classmates. I brought the flat blue stone, which I had been turning in my hands all this time, to the door, right to the recess in the center. He stood at the base like a cast, a click was heard from the keyhole, signifying the opening of the passage, and a new inscription lit up in blue above the door itself.

The key was hidden in the things.

There was no mention of any new monsters in the inscription, which was at least a little, but it encouraged us and even slightly pleased us. I took hold of the handles and opened the double doors wide, and a new test appeared before us.

Unlike the hall of armor, the next room was much smaller than the previous one. It seemed as if the corridor between the halls had been decided to be equipped into a full-fledged room. The entire space up to the next door was filled with various cabinets, tables filled with things, some boxes and drawers lying on the floor, and other numerous objects that were located all over the aisle.

A magical elongated lamp hung from the ceiling, illuminating the room with a soft light. What he saw could have been mistaken for some kind of utility room, cluttered with things, if not for its location. This was clearly our new challenge.

—Well, it doesn't look very dangerous, unlike the previous ones," Ron commented on his feelings when we began to timidly enter the new room.

"That's the problem," I squinted, looking around the room for threats, "before, at least we could understand where the danger was coming from. Here, she can take us by surprise... There is nothing related to potions here. Muggles are also not visible, as well as their devices. I can assume that this is Professor Flitwick's test, especially since the inscription corresponds to his style.

The children became alert, stopped in their seats and began to perceive the room much more cautiously than before. We all knew perfectly well what kind of inventions Professor Char was capable of. Almost not a single lesson took place without the half-goblin cooking some dirty trick that brought its own "zest" to the educational process, as Professor Flitwick sometimes liked to say about the need for his pranks.

— Do you think there are any traps in this room? Lavender asked us, "everything looks so innocent...

"Harry," I said to the boy, "do you remember your first spell lesson?"

— When did I get my first points for the answer that Flitwick gave himself? I won't forget that," he chuckled without joy.

This was the secret of human memory. That first week was perceived by all of us especially vividly, as each day of it caused us all new impressions, and each subsequent lesson overshadowed the previous ones.

We had a whole performance at the time, and such things are not forgotten, which allowed me to remember exactly what the conversation was about. I don't think that such a trick would have worked for me with lessons in conditional November, when studying began to resemble a routine and every day was similar to the previous one.

— This is our clue, because only then did he turn to you. Do you remember exactly what he asked and answered? — I gave the boy the opportunity to figure it out on his own and continue the idea instead of me, although I already had a rough idea of Flitwick's plan myself.

— This... — Harry scratched his head, remembering that lesson, — he seemed to be asking about how to avoid activating enchantment on things. It seems to be...

— That's right. And when he answered, what exactly did Flitwick say?

— What... It is necessary to avoid contact with the enchanted thing of any magic.

— Exactly! A strange answer, actually. After all, enchantment may contain other activation mechanisms.

— And if it was a clue, then... Harry's eyes widened, "are all the things here enchanted!? And you can't touch them?

"That's right," I replied, then turned to the others, "and somewhere in these things there is a key to the door to go further. I don't know what exactly would happen if we touched something, but I don't want to check it either.

"But how do you find it in this junk if you can't touch anything?" Jerry Puff asked a perfectly logical question.

And I had my doubts about that. It is clear that our hands are considered to be in contact with magic - we are wizards. But what if you wrap them in a cloak? Is it considered a manifestation of magic, being the clothes of wizards with some enchantments? And if you wrap your hands in a regular shirt?

In a good way, it would have been necessary to check this, but the consequences of the error looked too frightening - the examples of previous tests were as fresh as ever in our memory.

— That's it... Contact with magic... That is, you can't touch anything in this room with your hands or spells. But you can wrap your hands in some kind of cloth, and then there will be no activation. Probably...

I decided, after which I began to undress - I took off my raincoat and pulled off my jumper, leaving a white shirt with a tie on my body. Going to the nearest box on the floor, I gently touched it with my hand wrapped in a gray wool jumper. And nothing - the box moved without any problems, and no punishment followed.

— Take off your raincoats, just in case. Suddenly, they are considered a magical thing for enchanted items. And in general, in order not to crowd, it is necessary that several people start searching for the key, and everyone else is waiting at the entrance.

So we did, starting to inspect all the things in the room. We climbed into the cupboards, examined the contents of the tables, looked around all the corners of the room...

— What should this key look like anyway? How is that stone from the last trial? Ron asked the others.

— No, the door has an ordinary lock, — I pointed at it with my hand, — you need a simple iron key.

The search continued. I, together with five boys, searched for the ill-fated key, wooling the contents of the room. It was inconvenient, since all his actions had to be performed through a jumper. The most difficult thing was to flip through the empty books on the shelves and get something out of the bottlenecks - in this case we had to be especially careful if we did not want to find out exactly how the things in this room were enchanted. And soon enough, it was found out.

 Michael managed to trip over another box, which caused him to fall and touch the cylindrical leather bag with his bare hand. And almost immediately, the spell on him came into effect.

The bag went straight into the boy's face with force, and the crunch of a broken nose was heard in the room.

— Oh! Michael cried out.

The animated thing jerked away from the boy, only to jerk towards him again, hitting him on the hands protecting his face.

— Let's move away! Now! I shouted, running up to the bulk of my classmates.

The door to the previous hall was still open, so all the students ran there to escape the effects of the spell. Even Michael managed to get up at a fast pace and rush to catch up with us, and the animated bag was moving with jerky jumps behind him.

Most of all, I was afraid that now all the objects would come to life, and a bacchanal would begin in the room. I even tried to close the door to the hall, but it wouldn't budge, and remained open.

Fortunately, other things remained in their places, and even the boxes that were touched by the moving suitcase did not come to life after it.

The enchantment of the bag reminded me of the Bludgers' behavior during broomstick flying lessons. She moved towards the students in the same way and tried to harm them with punches, only she did not fly up like a Quidditch ball, but acted in jerks, lifting off the ground and then falling down, or moving along the floor.

The blows of the bag were heavy and quite sensitive. She rushed after us into the hall, after which she began to jump into one or another student. The force with which she crashed into the bodies of the freshmen was such that bruises should have appeared in those places after her actions. where she went.

— Finite Incantatem! — I tried to apply a counter-spell to it, which in theory could deprive the object of the enchantment, but the bag abruptly deviated from its trajectory, which caused the beam of the spell to go to the floor.

The Finite did not work on the armor of the previous test. They did not shy away from him, but simply ignored any charms, being protected from them to the very least. But if the bag tried to avoid my charms, it means that they must work on it!

— Hold her down! Try to grab and lean all together! I commanded the others, "so that you can use the cancellation spell on her!"

So, struggling and striking at the students, the bag was eventually plastered with the hands and bodies of freshmen from almost all sides.

— Finite Incantatem! — now my spell hit exactly the target, but the bag only began to struggle harder to escape from the grip of the four students.

— Finite Incantatem! Finite Incantatem! "it's so good that I've memorized this rather complicated spell. A few students were able to teach the cancellation charm that Lupin showed me during the second lesson about a month ago. It had too serious conditions for perfect execution, and the swing formula was very intermittent and quite difficult to implement.

On the third spell that came, the bag became an ordinary object again, which does not try to beat you.

— Hoo-uh, — Ron wiped the sweat from his forehead, as he was one of those who did not let the bag escape from the spell, — it's scary to imagine what would happen if we revived several similar objects at the same time.

—They would have beaten someone to death," I replied, recovering from the adrenaline, "and then, most likely, the spell would have broken, and we would have been able to find the key without fear." So, if we don't want to lose another friend, we need to act carefully, and not stumble out of the blue... — I turned a displeased look at the ashamed Michael, — That's it, let's go on searching, and in case of a new revival, we'll repeat the trick of escaping to the hall.

The key was found at the very top of one of the cabinets, being hidden under some kind of wooden container. It was found, oddly enough, by Harry, who was nimble enough to get his feet on the table and not fall off, thus reviving other objects.

—Great, guys,— I let Harry use the key for its intended purpose.

The door opened without any problems, and there were no more surprises.

"Suffering will open the boxes,— Harry read aloud the inscription that appeared.

"Is that all?" Wayne Hopkins asked incredulously, "somehow, I don't even know... Compared to the rest of the trials, it's too easy.

"Flitwick's calculation was probably based on the fact that we unknowingly activate the charms of several things at once. Well, or the revived thing will beat us, which is why we will inevitably touch the rest... So, yes. Simply. Well, shall we move on? I told the guys.

"I wish we could get this over with," Harry whispered as he entered the new location.

***

It was another large hall, which, unlike its brother with armor, was not empty.

An extended wide table occupied the entire left side of the room wall. On the first part of it, there were ten identical caskets, and in front of each of them was a bowl with some kind of liquid. The other part contained a standard set for cooking potions with a stirring spoon, scales, mortar and other strays.

And in the far wall, instead of the door, there was a round recess in which stood a huge cast-iron boiler.

"Snape," I whispered faintly, "what did he cook for us?"

We walked slowly through the hall, and saw a blackboard not far from the boiler. On it, a recipe for some kind of potion without a name was described in chalk in even lines.

— We need to... Brew a potion to go further? Hermione suggested.

"Apparently so,— I replied thoughtfully.

— But what's the catch? I don't understand.

—In the boxes," I pointed to the table, "look, there are ten ingredients in the recipe here, and we have ten closed boxes. Apparently, they need to be opened somehow to make a potion.

— Look! Megan Jones pointed to the wall with the cauldron, at the top of which another inscription appeared, much longer than all the previous ones.

There are eight sufferings, life and death are one.

Open the casket, having drunk from the cups to the bottom.

— And what does that mean?

— Bowls with liquid... — I went up to them and tried to pour out the contents. It didn't work out — you need to empty them to get access to the ingredients... Eight of them will bring torment, one will kill, and the other will either be a dummy or give life to the deceased... — I voiced a guess. And I really didn't like it.

"So we need to drink all ten cups to pass the test?" Ron asked, "and will any of the drinkers die?"

— Apparently, that's the idea.

— And what is the second way? Well, the one with the hint from Snape, who unnecessarily killed one of us," he described it as best he could.

—I... don't know,— I replied, confused.

The problem was that Snape didn't give Harry any hints in his first lesson. He was absent for the first part, and then he silently watched as we all brewed potions for boils. He didn't even address Harry at roll call, he didn't say anything! In the end, Neville blew up the cauldron altogether, and Harry took his friends to the hospital wing, leaving the classroom.

Did Snape really not take it out on Harry at roll call because he decided to mess up even with his silence? Did he really not give any clue!?

— I don't remember that the professor and I had any contact, - Harry replied in turn, — he took away points for damaging the cauldron, and allowed Ron and Neville to help get to Madam Pomfrey. That's it. Where was the hint, Kyle? Do you know?

- no... I even suspect that Snape didn't leave it on purpose. That's an asshole... So, we seem to have time, which is not limited in any way. Let's think about what other way out there might be? Try to open the caskets with Alohomora, or pour out the contents in some other way. The other group is to walk through the entire room up and down, look for secret mechanisms, levers or something similar... Even if Snape didn't leave a clue, it doesn't mean that there isn't a second way. It's just that we don't know him, and that needs to be fixed. At least, I hope so... — that was all I could advise my classmates... Delay the brewing of the potion in order to try your luck and discover some other way to pass the test.

The guys began to carefully study the contents of the hall and look for any clues. I myself read the inscription above the cauldron, sniffed at the contents of the bowls, tried to influence them with a counter-spell of cancellation in order to get rid of the liquid in them in another way... And nothing.

Maybe Snape did it on purpose because he was sure of our incompetence? Did he think we couldn't solve the director's puzzle? Didn't he give us a chance to solve his problem in another way, because in his opinion we are simply not capable of it? Or did he complicate the search so much that only a unique person can find a clue?

After about half an hour of fruitless searches, the boiler independently heated up from below, and the liquid began to heat up a little.

 Is that all? Need to start making a potion!? Dean wondered, "what if the liquid just boils off?" Are we going no further?

"Actually, there's a special spell for filling the cauldron," Hermione replied, "the professor used it on potions himself, but I managed to learn it.

— So there's still time... The boy breathed a sigh of relief.

— I would not be so sure about this, — I turned to the students, — who knows - maybe there is some special liquid there now? And if we let it evaporate, we won't be able to pass the test? We don't know what to expect in this case... — thoughts returned to my head that our lives mean nothing to this school — I'm afraid we need to hurry up and start preparing the potion now. Otherwise, instead of one student, several, or even all of us, may die at once.

I couldn't rule out that option either. Yes, according to my version, the only death allowed me to go further, but I was guided only by a single example of a corridor with shadows, so this was still not information with a one hundred percent probability of the final outcome.

"And what," Lavender said excitedly, "do we have to drink from these bowls?" And one of us will die?

"Yes," I answered helplessly, "I can't find any other way out. I'm not omnipotent, guys. Excuse me.

— But how do we agree which one of us will drink from each cup? There are ten of them, twenty of us," Jack said, looking at the guys with a questioning look.

—Nineteen," I corrected the girl, "Harry has to get to the end of the test anyway. Dumbledore hinted about an important reward for him - this may be a clue that we will not be able to complete the tests without Potter at all. So yes, we all have to decide and select ten students, one of whom will die...

— And how are we going to do that?

— I won't drink from them! Padma shouted, terrified, "I won't!"

— Padma, be quiet, don't freak out, — Parvati began to calm her sister.

— Guys, — Hermione picked up a box with some twigs from the table, - I think the professor took care of that too. Let's draw lots to be fair," she suggested to the others.

"Who would talk about honor,— Ron muttered.

—Hermione's right," I said, putting an end to the arguments and incipient fears. I was disgusted by such a decision, but I pushed away the thought that I was condemning one of us to death. It's all Dark Hogwarts. Snape, Dumbledore, everyone else... I'm just a victim. The participant, who only wanted the best with his intentions, let chance decide which of us will be in danger. Even if you are unlucky, you will still have a nine out of ten chance of staying alive. Refusals are not accepted, because in that case someone else will have to drink it instead of you. I've said it all, and it's not up for discussion - I'm involved too.

I put aside nineteen twigs and shortened nine of them.

— If you pull a long one, drink the contents when it's your turn. A short one - you will help with cooking.

An intangible veil of fear hung in the hall. Everyone hoped that he would be able to avoid the fate of being chosen as a test subject. And I was one of them.

I don't think I would have been able to persuade the others to take this step if I hadn't volunteered to participate in the draw along with everyone else. Yes, as a leader and the smartest in riddles, I was much more valuable than others and could try to attribute myself to exceptions, as I did with Harry, who, because of his exclusivity, felt awkward and even rushed to participate on an equal basis with everyone. But other children thought primarily about their lives, and they cared less about the success of the entire enterprise, since for the most part they were still unable to reason more comprehensively. The guys couldn't find reasons that could outweigh their own lives due to their age.

Taking out a short rod, the children exhaled, rejoiced and even cried from the intensity of emotions. Those who came across long ones plunged into themselves, nervously looked at the table with bowls and accepted the fact in different ways that they would have to risk their own lives.

A similar fate befell all the Gryffindor girls except Hermione. Ron and Dean were lucky in this regard. Draco also got the long rod, and Susan, Hannah and Jerry got the badgers. Sophie and Michael were unlucky from Ravenclaw. And some of them will have to die soon. Without a clear meaning and an ultimate goal, unless we consider our progress further.

I was getting the last untouched rod, so I already knew that all the long guys had pulled it out. I was lucky in this case, even though this smile of fortune seemed to me like a devilish grin now.

I gathered my thoughts, getting ready for work. If someone is destined to die, then I will not shame their sacrifice and will pass the test with a sober head. It was damn hard to keep my cool in situations like this, but I had to at least try to do it.

— That's it. We begin cooking. Those who pulled out the long ones - stand at your seats, and when we need an ingredient, you will empty the bowl. It is not said in the recipe to cut them and measure them somehow. Apparently, they are already in the necessary proportions and conditions in the boxes. Let's get started, — with these words, the work hastily began - the liquid was about to boil soon, and it was necessary to perform exactly all the actions of the recipe.

While the unlucky guys were coming to terms with their risks, I began to monitor the cooking by looking at the lines of text on the board. All ten ingredients had to be put in it gradually, and there was nothing particularly complicated in the recipe itself - not even the spells that are necessary for cooking some potions. Hermione volunteered to help me in this case, supervising my actions on a timer that will start counting down from the moment the liquid boils.

— Lavender. Go ahead," the girl looked at us with panic, but Parvati, who was right behind her, took her hand with support. The girls looked at each other and decided to drink from their cups at the same time.

Lavender began to rapidly become covered with sores all over her body, which made her want to itch furiously. The bones in Parvati's arms and legs disappeared, which caused her to collapse in a shapeless heap on the floor. The boxes under their numbers opened.

— What's wrong with them!? Sally—Ann, who was going to be the third in a row, shouted in fright.

— This is the suffering that is mentioned in the inscription. They will be alive, but each drug seems to have different unpleasant effects.

— How it itches! Lavender was indignant, scratching her boils with her nails.

— And they will have to endure this condition until the very end? Harry asked me, looking worried.

— I think so. Snape didn't leave us any other way out to burn in hell. Harry, open the boxes and bring the ingredients here. We continue cooking. Sally-Ann, Faye, get ready- you're next.

After a while, the girls also decided to drink their cups, as they had nowhere else to go.

Sally-Ann was covered with fur, which covered the girl entirely, which made her have to lift her hair with shaggy hands so that she could at least breathe.

Faye had completely broken down into separate body parts that existed independently of each other. The girl's bare legs rose from the pile of clothes and began to move clumsily around the hall, her hands began to crawl after them, and her head and torso were in a pile of school uniforms.

It was good that at least she didn't feel pain from it, and the internal organs and blood didn't leave her fragmented body. It was scary to see, but the girl herself felt completely fine, except for the fright of such changes, trying to get used to such unusual control of her body parts.

Apparently, the girls of our faculty were lucky, and there was no death in their cups, which with each number drunk reduced the chances of the remaining guys.

—Draco, it's your turn," I said to the Slytherin after a while, when it was time to put the fifth ingredient in the cauldron.

He looked at what was happening with the girls and abruptly took out his wand, pointing it at different classmates:

— And that's nothing like that! Let your Granger drink, or whoever else - I don't care! I won't risk my life in the game that's going on here!

— Fuck you, Malfoy! — shouted evil Ron, who also took out his wand, but was in no hurry to point it at the Slytherin, seeing my sign, — you pulled out the rod, well, have the courage to accept it. The girls took it and drank, but what about you? A coward?

— Weasley... For bravery, it's to Gryffindor. Why don't you come over and have a drink? Or what, fright...

— Petrificus Totalus! I shouted out the spell of paralysis, taking advantage of the fact that the boy turned to me half—sideways when he answered Ron, "I'm sorry, Draco, but there's no time for your cowardice right now," I went up to the frozen boy who was lying motionless on the floor with his wand outstretched, "the cooking process cannot be disrupted, Snape is about it I said it repeatedly, " keeping a show of concentration on my face, I brought the bowl to the boy's slightly open mouth and poured the contents into it, while Draco's eyes expressed an extreme degree of fright.

The box opened, and we continued to brew the damn potion. I removed the spell of paralysis from Draco, and he soon stretched out into some kind of sausage, stretching all parts of his body around the hall.

— What's wrong with me? Am I alive? Draco babbled, still not understanding what was happening to him and why his arms had lengthened and looked like spaghetti.

— You're alive. You're lucky, Malfoy," was all I replied, returning to the cooking process. He was in such a state, not only unable to stand up, but he would not have been able to hold a Slytherin wand either. But he will hold a great grudge against me. Unless he admits his own wrongness in this situation, of course.

He volunteered to help us, so let him not jump off at the most crucial moment.

The fewer children there were, the more worried the remaining students became. Susan, Hannah, Jerry, Sophie and Michael... Which of them will not be lucky this time?

—Kyle," a thoughtful Hermione turned to me when I threw the fifth ingredient into the cauldron and stirred the boiling brew several times, —look here.

— What is it? We're doing everything right and according to plan.

— I'm not talking about that. Look, there's a mistake in the potion.

A mistake? In Snape's potion?

— Show me where?

—Here," she pointed to the last ingredient.

— Well, porcupine quills... So what?

— It says here that they need to be put in a cauldron, and only then, after three minutes, remove the potion from the fire. But then there will be an explosion, like then... With Neville.

Damn it for that Snape's leg.

— Susan! Don't drink from the bowl! No one else drinks! I shouted to the girl when she was about to do it in tears with her friend Hannah.

He had hinted to Harry when the cauldron had melted... Did Snape set this up himself to give us his hint!? "The porcupine needles in the boiling potion lead to a violent reaction, which causes the potion to corrode everything around, including stupid students like you.".. This whole performance was part of the clue!

After all, how can we go further? Instead of a door, there is a boiler in the wall... If you follow all the instructions, then in the end the potion will simply explode and corrode the cauldron, and even the wall itself! But, then, why follow the instructions at all? If you can get access to the tenth ingredient at once, and let the boiling liquid do its job without using other boxes!

How could I not have guessed that! Porcupine quills, may Dumbledore eat them for lunch! The potions professor asked us not to brew a potion, but to spoil it on purpose. It sounded as amazing as it was incredible and even a little creepy.

Even at the very beginning, it seemed strange to me to mention life... It would be logical if there were nine bowls of suffering and one with death - this was consistent with the spirit of previous trials and their concepts. But life... She is in the tenth bowl to gain access to porcupine needles without harm to herself!

I walked over to the tenth bowl, pushed Michael away from it, and gulped down the entire contents. It felt like I had tasted ordinary spring water.

"None of us are going to die," I informed the others, wiping my wet lips with my hand, "Hermione just saved someone's life with her attentiveness," I finished, and carried an armful of porcupine needles to the boiling cauldron.

It was time to end this ordeal. And blame your own narrowness of thought. All this damn canon - I believed so strongly in Snape's motives to mess with Harry Potter that I accepted the arguments for the lack of a clue too quickly. But someone's life depended on it!

***

— Move to the back of the hall, just in case! I shouted to the others, after which I threw the needles I had brought into the boiling cauldron and ran away from it as fast as I could.

We must pay tribute to the guys, they did not forget to take away the pieces of Faye's bodies and boneless Parvati so that they would not suffer in case of too strong an eruption of the potion. Even the spaghetti-like Malfoy was wrapped up in a kind of ball by caring Hufflepuff, dragging him to the door at the very beginning.

And for good reason. About five seconds after adding the tenth ingredient, a powerful reaction began. Liquid sprayed into the ceiling of the recess in a stream, spreading over the rounded walls and hissing through the masonry. The floor next to it also got damaged, which began to corrode in the same way, leaving furrows and gaps in its wake.

I wonder if it's possible to burn a hole to another floor? And what will be there at all? Because right now I had no idea which floor we were on. On the first one? In the dungeon? Where?

A burnt hole was forming in the wall every second for the next test. Somehow, the liquid even stuck to the ceiling of the wall and, eating through it, moved further in its direction, rather than falling down.

— How are you, Lavender? I turned to the Gryffindor, who continued to scratch the potholes and ulcers on her body. The girl was the only one to whom the contents of the bowl provided effects that were precisely painful and unpleasant. The other four "lucky ones" may have looked of varying degrees of lousy, however, they did not experience severe discomfort or pain.

— In the first lesson of charms, do you remember how the skin tingled? "It's a little easier here, there's no burning sensation, but I want to comb them all at once, and I only have two hands."..

— You're doing great, Lavender. I drank the very first, despite the danger. Without any tantrums, like Malfoy did. Be patient. I think there's only a little way left to go, and you'll all be cured.

"Yeah, I just hope I don't get the healer's mark because of it.".. There are already two of them, I would not like to have more.

We still didn't know what the tags were fraught with. Neville still managed to have only four of them, and the other students from our course never crossed the threshold of five Madam Pomfrey marks. For now.

— You won't get it. It's not fatal, the healer, I'm sure she'll fix it quickly, just like everyone else.

The wall was completely burned through, giving us a view into a new, rather narrow and gloomy passage.

— Okay, — I rubbed my hands, — let's go. The victims are staying here and waiting for help. The rest of you follow me.

— I'm going too! — Malfoy shouted with his mouth stretched out, which made his voice sound somehow awkward, - take me with you!

"Haha, no, Malfoy, you've already completed your task. True, not by myself, but... — Ron grinned, looking at the tangle of stretched body parts of the Slytherin, — we already realized that in a moment of danger you will coward and set us all up. Moreover, from you, like this," he pointed to the ugly body, "there is no sense at all.

— You don't understand, I have to go with you! I must!

"Why, Draco?" — I said, frowning, — tell us about the reasons, and we will think about your proposal.

In response, the boy only grimaced as much as his own position and condition allowed him, and remained silent.

"Then stay here and don't whine, or I'll ask Faye to kick you with her legs in our absence."

Emboldened by the fact that no one had died, and the victims in fact did not suffer, except for Lavender, who was cheerful, we went to the next test.

Oliver's probable death is Nami... Have you forgotten? Yes, I think we have already gone through so many shocks that the moment in the dark corridor with shadows was somehow perceived remotely.

How long has it been since then? An hour? Two? During this time, we managed to see a lot of different things, and adjusted our psyche so that grief for a friend did not distract us from important activities. I think it will fully manifest itself later, when all this is finally over.

Helping each other, we climbed over the corroded opening. The relief masonry from the spoiled potion became jagged, with sharp protruding pieces that could easily injure us, so we moved cautiously and acted together.

The new corridor turned out to be an inhospitable place, but it was still much lighter than the one with shadows. There was no blood on the floor, but only old dirt and dust. Lighting our way forward, we moved on, and soon metal grilles began to protrude instead of walls on the sides.

After only some twenty meters, the corridor turned into a room with dungeons on the sides, inside of which there were shackles, chains and many human skeletons.

— Well, it's creepy... What is this place? Harry asked quietly, rubbing his shoulders with his hands against the coolness.

— Quirrell... I'm afraid it's a prison. A dungeon for Muggles, to be precise," I replied, looking at the contents of the cages.

"It's terrible," Hermione said emotionally, looking at more and more bones and skulls with a frightened face.

— This is a professor of Muggle Studies, — I replied to this, — this was to be expected from this psycho.

— Look, there! Ron pointed to one of the bars, "a girl?"

Indeed, a girl about our age was lying unconscious against one of the walls of another cell. She was surrounded by two solid skeletons, and her leg was chained to an iron bracket embedded in the wall.

"She needs help,— Dean said softly, looking through the bars at the girl.

"It's closed," I tugged at the metal lattice gate of the cell, "maybe we'll find the key next." Let's go.

It was unpleasant to see our girl of the same age shackled and helpless in such a terrible place. However, we should not forget that in the realities of this world she was a Muggle, and her life was valued much less than ours. And if the value of wizard children to the headmaster and teachers was so tiny, then the Muggle girl clearly could not count on leniency or compassion.

Because of this feeling of similarity between us, I really wanted to help her get out of this hellish place, just like Dean said. But at the same time, I understood that Dumbledore's trials were not the place to play knights and princesses. It's not a place at all. If a Muggle is behind bars, then it's not for nothing.

After going a little further, the bars ended, and a square room with a monolithic stone table in the center appeared in front of us. Next to him was a box with various torture instruments, and on the table itself was a key.

"I'll try to open the bars and shackles for them," Dean said, preparing to take the key.

— Wait, — I pulled his hand away, — take your time.

— Kyle? There's a girl lying almost dead, we have to help her! He said confidently.

And I agreed with him, except that...

— Ay, to hell with it, — I waved my hand, — go and free her, just do not forget about the possibility of traps. If you see or feel something unusual, immediately drop everything and run to us. Ok?

"Yes," he nodded, "I will."

There was a new door at the table at the end of the room, and we moved towards it. Right in the center of it, some kind of pyramid-shaped device was looking at us, the top of which was pointing straight at us. And there were needles sticking out of every crack of this mysterious mechanism.

This time the inscription at the top of the door was red:

The magic blood will let you through.

— Does someone have to sacrifice their life again? — I said aloud, - the magic blood, that is, the one that flows in us... Someone has to put their hand against these needles," I pointed to the device in the center of the door, —and they'll drink the blood.

"The question is, how much will it take to open the door," Hermione muttered.

— I think a lot... The clues on the doors always told how to pass the test the first way - with someone's death. I'm afraid that the one who leans his hand is not a tenant. It will simply be drained by this device, and others will pass on.

"I wouldn't want that outcome," Megan Jones swallowed.

"He won't be," I said, trying to sound confident, "Harry." Do you remember Muggle studies?

He nodded.:

— Yes, the scariest lesson of the first, especially with that Muggle butchering performance...

— And he focused on you only once... When I asked you how Muggles could be useful...

— Yes, but what does it mean for the test? What's the answer here and the other way," Harry asked, confused, "I can't figure it out, because Muggle blood isn't magical, is it?

"Muggles' value lies within themselves," he said before his performance... I quoted Professor Quirrell's words aloud, and was horrified by them myself as soon as I finally realized their meaning... There is something inside that girl that will allow us to pass the test without blood sacrifice...

— And how do we get it out of her? Ron asked, stunned.

What a heartless bastard Professor Quirrell is.

"I can guess how," I replied, glancing at the table and the tools next to it, "but none of us will like it."..

 Sophie put her hand over her mouth. Padma collapsed, and hung on to Michael's arms.

—Yes,— I said, my voice breaking, "either we get something out of that girl, or one of us will die."

— What do you mean, we'll get it? Dean came up and said that he was carrying an unconscious Muggle girl in his arms. She looked so thin and tiny that her friend seemed like a real giant against her background.

— Dean... Put it on the table, please.

— Kyle, you're not going to... It's wrong, it's wrong," Dean said softly, looking at the girl's face in confusion.

— Do we have any other choice? — I asked a classmate, and I was trembling at the same time, — are any of you ready to follow a different path? — now I was addressing all the students who were present in the room, — no? Then it will have to be done. Sooner or later.

Cut the girl's stomach. Find what's hidden in her guts and organs. And all in order to pass the inhuman test of a mad teacher... It was scary to even think about it, let alone bring it to life...

Will any of the children be able to cope with this? I don't think so... So I'm going to have to do it?

Why, I got involved in this adventure with the letter and the third floor myself. No one dragged me here by force... And even if I wanted the best, but now, apparently, I will have to finally reap the fruits of my own decisions.

Of course, you can stall for time, talk among yourself about something, build theories. But here such actions will lead to nothing.

In this test, we already know all the conditions, and the two exit options are also fully understood. It's either her or one of us. And I'm not ready to drag any of my classmates to their deaths. Certainly not because it is not capable of cutting a human body, even if it is alive.

Dean hesitated, but eventually he put the muggle on a stone slab that looked like a table.

— You don't have to look, — I swallowed a lump in my throat, approaching the girl with a knife in her hands, — not a word is said about this in the test... You can turn away, or go to the bars, for now... Until I'm done...

Many of the guys silently agreed with me and left the room, returning back to the aisle. Inside, only my close friends remained. Harry, Ron, Dean... Even Hermione found the strength to stay close, even though the girl was on the verge of hysteria, carefully hiding her behind her own composure. Everyone from Gryffindor who has reached this point has stayed by my side. Do they want to support me? To share with me the horror of what I'm about to do?

For me, even such a gesture from friends was not as important now as the task ahead.

I lifted up the dirty linen robes, exposing the girl's belly. Pale, thin... The hand with the knife shook as I held it out towards the girl.

Cut it up. Put your hand in there. Get. Should I try to stop the bleeding with a spell? Will it work? And what if the unknown "value" is in the girl's heart, or next to it? And if it's in the lungs...

I began to breathe deeply and often, trying to decide on the unthinkable. After all, if I can't, then, as in Snape's trial, after some time they can safely give us a time limit, and nothing will change, only danger will increase...

There's no point in dragging it out.

— This is wrong... Dean whispered.

"I know it myself," I barked at the boy in a broken voice.

We need to get ready. I can do it. Butchers skin the carcasses, and nothing, they live quite normally. Inhuman, but still...

Some stupid excuses with excuses began to slip into my head, that they tried in vain to justify the normality of the upcoming act.

I can do it. I'll pull myself together and do all the parts with a cool head, as if I were doing a practical assignment in herbology...

The knife touched the girl's skin. It remains to press it harder so that it goes deep, and pull on itself. God, how frightening the skin looks, which is crushed under the pressure of a sharpened blade...

— This is wrong! Dean shouted and headed for the door.

Dean? That it's him...

— Dean! Stop! No! Harry, Ron, grab him!

It was late. The boy reached out his hand to the device, and dozens of needles dug straight into his palm. Together with this, the passage back to the dungeons was sealed by a slab that had fallen from above.

— Pull him away! They took it, and-and-and r-time! And-and-and r-time! — the four of us tried to pull each other out of the tenacious grip of needles.

And we couldn't do it. They seemed to come to life and passed through the arteries and veins of the boy, burrowing deep into his body. No amount of effort allowed us to take them out, no matter how hard we pulled Dean away from the door with the device.

— Dean, no! Ron shouted.

— Harder! Pull harder! I cried, trying my best to save my friend from the clutches of death.

— No... It's wrong, this," Dean whispered those two words at last, after which he was completely drained of blood.

The needles left the boy's body by themselves, the device turned red, and the door opened.

Due to the continuation of our attempts to rescue our friend from the trap, at some point we managed to pull him away, which caused us all to fall on the stone floor together.

Me, Harry, Ron, Hermione... And Dean Thomas is dead.