HP: The Dangerous Azkaban Professor

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"Cough… cough—!"

Ron collapsed onto the ground, panting heavily, his fingers still clawing instinctively at the vines that were no longer there.

Harry stumbled forward, nearly falling flat on his face, his glasses knocked askew, but even so, the very first thing he did was turn to Hermione. "Brilliant job!" he exclaimed.

Hermione's hand was trembling ever so slightly. The shimmering spell inside the crystal vial had completely vanished. She watched as the vines rapidly retreated, slithering back into the cracks between the stone walls, leaving behind charred, blackened marks all across the floor.

Sargeras pursed his lips at the sight and muttered under his breath, "Dumb lucky…"

"Thank Merlin you actually pay attention in class, Hermione. You're amazing," Harry clearly didn't share Sargeras' opinion. He shot Hermione a thumbs-up, constantly wiping the sweat from his face.

"That wasn't my spell… My spell isn't nearly that powerful…" Hermione looked a little embarrassed, fidgeting nervously.

"I know," Ron cut in, his face still a bit pale. "You lifted that one from Professor Greengrass's class, didn't you?"

"I did," the young witch nodded, her voice soft. "It's hard to stay calm when things get that dangerous… I'm sorry, I…"

"Hermione!" Harry interrupted her firmly, "You just saved our lives back there."

Ron nodded along quickly. "You've done very well, Hermione. But that spell's gone now, right? You used up the one from the bottle?"

"That's right… which means we have to keep moving," Hermione replied with a determined nod.

They pressed on, walking through the shadowy tunnel. After a few steps, the passage suddenly opened up before them — a vast, circular chamber bathed in warm torchlight spread out in front of their eyes.

Above them, high up on the arched ceiling, countless tiny, gleaming objects glittered as they whirled through the air, spinning and darting like a dazzling rain of gemstones.

"Wait a second…" Harry narrowed his eyes, the realization dawning on him. "Those aren't birds… they're keys — winged keys!"

He pointed toward one of the bronze keys, and under the flickering torchlight, the cold gleam reflecting off its jagged teeth was perfectly clear.

Hermione quickly swept her gaze across the room. "It's obviously some kind of puzzle… Ah!" She suddenly pointed toward a pile of broomsticks stacked neatly in the corner. "We need to catch the right key!"

Ron had already hurried over to the large, carved wooden door, crouching down to examine the keyhole. "It's gotta be an old-fashioned key… large… silver… probably shaped like this—"

He gestured roughly, outlining the shape of the door's handle with his hands.

Without wasting another second, the three of them leapt onto the brooms and kicked off the ground, soaring into the air. The cloud of keys instantly erupted into chaos, hundreds of them scattering like a startled swarm of bees, darting in every direction.

Harry wove skillfully through the storm of flashing metal, his Seeker instincts from countless Quidditch matches kicking in. It didn't take him long to lock onto the target — a large silver key. One of its wings was drooping at an odd angle, and compared to the others, its flight was noticeably sluggish.

"I've got it in sight!" Harry shouted.

He leaned forward and dove, cutting through the air as he gave chase. Ron and Hermione immediately understood his plan, flanking him from both sides to block off the other keys, clearing a narrow path straight toward the silver one.

The key seemed to sense danger all at once. It darted upward in a sharp, panicked turn. But Harry reacted in a heartbeat, yanking his broom upward into a steep climb. Just inches below the arched ceiling, he twisted into a perfect inversion and reached out with his right hand, snatching the struggling key clean out of the air.

"Nice one!" Ron cheered.

The key flapped its tiny wings furiously in protest, but it was no use. Harry flew straight back to the door, shoved the key into the lock, and turned it firmly. A crisp click echoed through the chamber as the door unlocked.

Hidden in the shadows, Sargeras' lips curled slightly. His eyes lingered on the key's fragile wings, noticing the creases and dents along their edges — fresh marks. Clearly, whoever had come through here before them hadn't passed by long ago.

Dumbledore had mentioned designing a clever series of obstacles, but Sargeras suspected the headmaster had changed his mind at the last moment. Letting Quirrell get his hands on the Philosopher's Stone might actually be a better outcome… that way, they could simply follow the trail and uncover Voldemort's hiding place…

What was that Muggle phrase again? Baiting the snake out of its hole… or maybe fishing with a hidden hook? Something along those lines.

That was why, until now, he hadn't stopped the trio from sneaking this far. It saved him the trouble of making up excuses to come down here himself. And besides, if these little wizards really did run into mortal danger… he could still step in and cover for them.

"Let's go," Harry said firmly, pushing pushing the door open.

The three young witches and wizards slipped into the darkness beyond, their figures swallowed by the shadows on the other side.

Sargeras controlled his raven with a subtle flick of his fingers, the bird gliding silently after them. His eyes gleamed faintly with a hint of amusement.

The three of them pushed open the heavy wooden door, and what lay before them took their breath away — a massive wizard's chessboard stretched out across the floor, vast and imposing.

The black and white tiled floor extended all the way to the far end of the chamber, where thirty-two towering chess pieces stood in neat formation, each one larger than they were, carved from stone and utterly lifeless — yet exuding an eerie, looming presence.

Across from them, the white pieces were already arranged, standing at the ready. Their cold, stone-carved faces radiated a chilling, merciless aura, like soldiers prepared for battle.

Among the three of them, it was obvious who had the best grasp of chess. Naturally, Ron stepped forward, taking command of the situation without hesitation.

"Looks like we're going to have to play this one ourselves," Hermione whispered, her voice trembling faintly.

The three of them exchanged a look, then quietly walked toward the empty spaces on the black side of the board. Harry took the place of a bishop, Hermione stood where the castle — the rook — should have been, and Ron took a deep breath, stepping onto the square where a fallen knight lay crumbled on the floor.

Ron's fingertips trembled slightly, but the moment he touched the cold stone chess piece, a sharp, firm gleam lit up in his eyes. "Listen carefully…"

His voice was unexpectedly calm and steady. "Harry, move four squares to the front right."

As soon as he spoke, the chess pieces began to grind across the floor, the deep rumble of stone against stone filling the chamber. On the far side of the board, the black knight was struck down with a deafening blow from the opposing queen, the impact shaking the ground beneath them.

The stone knight collapsed face-first onto the floor, cracks spider-webbing across its armored chest. Hermione gasped sharply, her eyes wide. A chill crept up Harry's spine, his heartbeat quickening.

"I… It's fine…" Ron's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously, but his voice remained firm. "that's a necessary sacrifice. Harry… now you can take the opponent's bishop."

The game pressed on, and the pile of captured black pieces near the wall grew larger and larger. Fine beads of sweat dotted Ron's forehead, but with every move, his commands grew steadier, sharper, more decisive.

Twice, he nearly predicted the white pieces' attacks three moves in advance, maneuvering Harry and Hermione safely out of danger at the last possible moment.

Hidden in the shadows by a stone pillar, Sargeras watched with a hint of admiration flashing in his eyes.

The cool-headed composure the red-haired boy displayed in this moment was truly impressive. He wasn't simply thinking about each move, but calculating the entire battlefield, managing every detail with remarkable clarity.

The Weasley boy… perhaps he was far more interesting than he appeared on the surface.

"Listen," Ron suddenly broke the tense silence, his voice calm to the point of being unsettling. "Next… I have to be taken."

"No!" Harry and Hermione both cried out at the same time, their voices filled with alarm.

But Ron spun around, the fire of determination blazing in his eyes. "This is chess! Some pieces always have to be sacrificed!" He pointed firmly at the chessboard. "If I take this step, their queen will capture me… but at the same time, you'll be able to checkmate the white king, Harry!"

"No… I… I don't want…"

"What are you still hesitating for?" Ron's voice suddenly rose, echoing around the vast, empty chess chamber. "Do you want to stop Snape or not?"

Watching this whole scene through what felt like a "live broadcast," Sargeras froze for a second, his expression blank with confusion. What does any of this have to do with Snape? Could it be that the three of them had been targeted so often by that big bat of a man, they had subconsciously turned him into their imaginary enemy?

Shaking his head in mild disbelief, Sargeras kept watching, his curiosity only deepening.

Straightening his collar, Ron stood tall, his back straight like a true knight preparing to face his fate. "Just do exactly as I say."

The moment Ron took that decisive step forward, the white queen, exactly as he had predicted, spun toward him with terrifying movement. The heavy stone scepter she carried swung down with a fierce gust of wind, whistling through the air.

At the last possible moment, Ron turned his head and managed a small, trembling smile toward Harry. His lips moved soundlessly, but Harry understood perfectly: "Checkmate him."

The next second, Ron collapsed to the floor, knocked unconscious by the brutal blow.

Harry's heart pounded so violently he thought it might burst right through his chest, but he didn't waste Ron's sacrifice. His breathing shallow, his palms clammy with sweat, he took three careful, steady steps.

With the final move, the white king's crown toppled to the floor with a sharp clang, and in that instant, every single white chess piece laid down their weapons in unison.

They had won!

The door to the next challenge creaked open slowly.

Harry and Hermione turned back, their eyes lingering on Ron's unmoving body one last time, sorrow tightening in their chests. But they forced themselves forward, slipping through the open doorway and into the corridor beyond.

"Ron, he…" Hermione's voice was tight with worry.

"He's going to be fine." Harry answered without hesitation, as much to convince himself as to reassure her.

And indeed, Ronald Weasley would be perfectly fine… because Sargeras had already arrived. With a simple flick of his wand and a whispered Episkey, the boy's injuries were completely healed in an instant.

Sargeras gently stroked his chin, thoughtful. This chess match… had been far more entertaining than he'd anticipated. It wasn't just a battle of strategy—it was a trail of courage.

And they… had passed beautifully!

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[Chapter End's]

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