21: Mars is bright tonight, and Underground Chambers

[3rd Pov]

The dark-hooded figure was consumed by the surge of white magic, reducing the surroundings to a charred wasteland. The once-tall trees toppled to the ground while the blades of grass disappeared entirely.

In a deafening roar, the figure emitted a guttural scream of pain, flying into the obscurity of the night, its left arm rendered useless from the burn.

Harry lay sprawled on the ground, groaning from the searing pain while clutching his scar. Malfoy and Fang were both missing, having cowardly retreated.

Alaric turned his attention to his sister, who remained fixated on the night sky, where the figure had vanished.

"Thank you, Al," she said, her voice trembling.

The boy couldn't discern its face, but he was sure that the ominous and murderous magic that emanated from the figure was familiar. He looked at Harry, who was still on the ground, grasping his head.

As Alaric was about to cast a healing spell on the boy, gallops and the sounds of hoofs hitting the dirt ground resonate from behind them.

From the woods, a palomino-bodied centaur, with blonde hair and sapphire eyes emerges, approaching the group of children.

His eyes lingered on Harry, specifically on the scar which stood out, livid, on Harry's forehead.

"Firenze," greets Alaric, with a tone of familiarity. The centaur then looks at him, as he slightly bows his head.

"Mr. Grindelwald," he greets back. His gaze goes up, staring at the night sky. "Mars is bright tonight - You haven't been visiting our forest lately..."

Alaric also looks up. "So I've heard. I've been rather occupied,"

Firenze approaches Harry, who was trying to lift himself from the ground. "Is this the Potter boy?" he asks.

Alaric nods his head, before helping the dazed boy off the ground. Harry wanted to ask what he was doing there, but there was another question lingering in his head.

"Who... Who was that?" he asked.

"Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?" asked the centaur back, his eyes still fixated on the shining stars that illuminated the darkness around.

"No," said Harry, startled by the odd question. "We've only used the horn and tail hair in Potions."

"The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death." Interrupted Lysandra. "Only the most desperate and deranged of wizards opt to use it as sustain,"

Firenze nodded, before approaching Harry and staring right into his eyes.

"Can't you think of no one?" he asked, as Alaric laughed behind him.

All of them stared at the silver-haired boy, as he cleaned some tears from his eyes. "That's a good one Firenze. Didn't know Astronomy came with a good sense of humor,"

The creature, with its half-human, half-horse form, stares at Alaric with an unreadable expression. Sensing the ambiguity, Alaric's eyes gleam as he employs legilimency to probe the horse's thoughts.

"He's dead Firenze," he said with venom in his voice, "You have the proof right in front of you!"

As Harry tried to understand what had made Alaric so angry, he searched for the one trigger that could cause such fury, and then it hit him. "V-Voldemort..." he said.

As Hagrid and the rest of the kids approached, the group tensed, aware of the looming confrontation. Alaric gazed at them before turning to his sister. "I'll be going now," he said, addressing her directly. Then, he turned to the centaur and added, "We'll talk later,"

Just as the silver-haired boy transformed into a raven and flew away, Lysandra cast a silent Confundus charm on the Boy Who Lived, averting any potential trouble.

Firenze gazed at the disappearing raven with a troubled expression, muttering softly, "I pray that the stars are mistaken."

__________

Exam season at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is a time of frenzied activity and stress for both students and teachers alike. The entire castle hums with energy, as students from all Houses study feverishly for their exams, desperate to absorb as much knowledge as possible.

In the weeks leading up to the exams, the Hogwarts professors become more demanding and rigorous in their teaching, assigning extra homework and offering challenging lessons. Students are required to attend additional revision classes and study groups, with many of them spending long hours in the library poring over dusty tomes and ancient scrolls.

Over the course of the year, the Grindelwald twins have noticed a shift in the attitudes of their fellow students. Once the target of snide comments and derision, Lysandra and Alaric were now accepted by the Hogwarts community, with jealousy and admiration replacing scorn.

Being sorted into Gryffindor bolstered Lysandra's quest for acceptance, as she strived to prove herself beyond her family name. She had little interest in popularity or public opinion but rather sought to demonstrate her magical prowess.

Alaric's exceptional magical abilities earned him both respect and fear from his peers. His performance in classes impressed even the most demanding professors, with McGonagall and Flitwick marveling at his skill, and even Snape begrudgingly offering compliments on his and Lysandra's proficiency in potions.

On the day of the exams, the students were called one by one to accomplish the given tasks by the professors.

Flitwick had students enchant a pineapple to dance across the table. Alaric thought that it was too little, so he also made the fruit sing an opera whilst it danced, which in turn made the half-globin squeak from joy.

McGonagall requested them to turn a mouse into a snuff box, so Alaric transfigured the most detailed box he could. It was decorated with intricate designs and motifs, and it featured delicate engravings and embossed patterns, as well as precious gemstones.

The Potions exam consisted in brewing a potion from memory, which Lysandra and Alaric easily made, even with Professor Snape breathing down their necks.

The History of Magic was nothing more than endless questions about some goblin rebellions, as well as who'd invented Self-Stirring Cauldrons.

Defense against the dark arts was more theoretical than practical, with the students answering with the different ways one could escape a vampire attack. It was overseen by a rather pale Quirrel, who was constantly clutching his left arm, staring at Alaric.

Herbology was nothing more than having to handle Dittany, a powerful healing herb with restorative capabilities.

The last exam, Astronomy, made the students draw in their parchments the constellations essential for a healing ritual.

"I'm free!" Theodore exclaimed. He had his hands up, pointing to the sun as if praising him for his now exam-less near future.

They had just stepped into the courtyard, and the boy was crying tears of joy as if we went through countless years of unending torture.

Blaise was, on a nearby bench, sleeping. He had pulled a fair amount of all-nighters, in preparation for the exams.

Daphne and Tracey sat on another bench, basking in the gentle spring breeze. Alaric was pacing back and forth, lost in his thoughts.

__________

[Alaric's Pov]

As I nervously bit my nails, I wondered what Quirrel was waiting for. The exams were a breeze for me, so much so that I hadn't bothered to study. But what was eating at me was Quirrel's inaction since our confrontation in the forest, where he started hiding his left arm, wincing in apparent pain.

His constant glares at me only added to his case. I didn't want to admit it, but I knew deep down that... somehow, Voldemort was still out there.

I confided in my uncle Albus, who revealed that he knew someone wanted to steal the Philosopher's Stone, which he believed was safer in the school than at Gringots. Despite his hesitation, he devised a plan to lure out the thief, with the professors setting up various trials to reach the stone.

However, I was taken aback when Professor Quirrel did nothing, and I couldn't just report him to my uncle without putting myself in a precarious position. It wasn't that Uncle Albus was unaware of my use of the Dark Arts, but I had mastered the emotional side of the arts, allowing me to use dark magic without losing my mind.

As I pondered my options, I noticed my sister haggardly running in my direction.

"T-They..." she tried to speak, but the run had her gasping for breath.

"They what Lysandra?" I asked, my tone serious, as my sister tried to compose herself.

"They went after Quirrel! Dumbledore just left for the ministry, and they saw him run to the third floor!"

Upon hearing the news, I immediately sprinted toward their location. I couldn't believe how little common sense those four had. As I dashed through the corridors, curious students stared at me while my sister kept pace with me until we reached the third floor.

When we arrived, we found that Fluffy was already sound asleep, and an enchanted harp played a soft tune to keep him that way. The trapdoor was open, indicating that both Quirrel and the others had already gone down.

Without a moment's hesitation, Lys and I descended the trapdoor. As soon as we touched the ground, we felt dozens of vines creeping toward us in the darkness.

"Lumos," Lysandra muttered, and her wand illuminated the surroundings, causing the devil's snare to recoil from the light.

We continued forward, reaching a downwards-sloping passage with stone walls, through which trickling water could be heard, which led to a brilliantly lit chamber with a very high ceiling.

Glittering flying keys were flying around, on the opposite end of the chamber from the stone passage was a large, old-fashioned wooden door with a silver lock that was already opened.

As we entered the chamber, the magic in the room seemed to be recharging, probably resetting the trial. My eyes quickly fell on Hermione, who was kneeling beside an unconscious Ron, hugging him tightly.

Hearing our approach, Hermione quickly pointed to the other exit, panic evident in her voice. "Hope and Harry went ahead. Quirrel is trying to get the stone!"

I exchanged a look with my sister, and we both knew what we had to do. Lysandra knelt beside Hermione and began muttering a series of healing spells to treat Ron. Meanwhile, I raised my wand and blasted the door to the other chamber, causing a sleeping troll to groggily wake up.

The creature recognized me as the one who had caused its scars and moved to attack. I knew I couldn't waste any time, so I aimed my wand, and a green jet of light shot at it, killing the troll instantly.

My hands slightly trembled from the magical recoil the killing curse had. The intent I didn't lack, but keeping the grasp the spell had on my psyche at bay was harder than I thought.

Ignoring the tremors caused by the fallen troll, reverberating through the walls, I quickly made my way to the next door. If anyone was going to get to Voldemort, it was going to be me.

Upon entering the chamber, the entrance was blocked by purple flames, whilst the exit was covered by black flames. A table holding seven unlabelled potion bottles of differing shapes and sizes sat in the center of the room, and a piece of parchment was floating above the bottles.

The trial chamber had been magically recharged, but as I looked around, I realized that it was more than just a trial. It was a riddle. I couldn't help but think to myself, "This isn't magic... it's a test of logic." Those without an ounce of reasoning ability would be trapped here forever.

Examining the objects before me, I soon reached the conclusion that the blue bottle, the smallest one, contained the potion necessary to proceed. Without hesitation, I downed it in one gulp and made my way through the black flames.

Soon, I was on the other side. The last chamber.

Quirrel stood before me, a crazed smile etched on his lips as he peered at the weakened Harry, struggling to stay upright on the stairs, while his scar seared with pain.

Hope held her wand, trembling, aimed at the Professor, but his expression remained unchanged.

Quirrel's gaze suddenly locked onto the newcomer, and his smile grew wider. "Another visitor! And none other than the one who had the GALS to burn my arm!" His voice rose, and his smile faded, replaced by a look of malice.

**********

A/N: I've practiced in the Dao Of Cliffhanger for a millennium. None shall beat me!

I had loads of fun writing this chapter, dunno why. I'll try to release another in a few hours.

Hope you enjoyed!