Chapter 116: Harry Potter And The Queen
On the vast chessboard, Harry’s hoarse roars echoed, and to help him transform, the White Queen sacrificed herself, exchanging for the enemy’s Black Queen.
Hermione was exposed to the enemy’s encirclement.
Ron… Ron…
The earth trembled, tears filled his emerald eyes, reflecting the sky that had suddenly darkened, reflecting the howling wind and flying sand and stones.
Reflecting the lightning dancing like silver snakes on the horizon.
Reflecting Quirrell’s increasingly terrified expression!
Power…
A furious power filled Harry’s body. He felt his vision elevated, so high that Quirrell seemed like an ant!
Vaughn looked up, observing the “world” created by alchemy.
The magical glow in his eyes was brilliant and mysterious, like the cool morning mist drifting before his eyes, juxtaposed with the morning sky glimpsed through gaps in the trees, bright, pale blue, with a hint of gold.
The brightness of the magical glow was never intense; instead, it flowed like water, streaming in and out, yet penetrating everywhere.
Just like now.
Below, Harry, undergoing transformation, his entire body was changing. Gray stone-like patterns spread like a disease, climbing up from his feet and covering his entire body.
Crunch, crunch…
The chessboard melted and poured like cement onto Harry. Amidst sounds like stones grinding against each other, in just a moment, he was encased in a stone statue approximately 8 feet tall.
Tall and elegant in stature, with intricate but sharply defined clothing, wearing a crown, and holding a 6-foot-long stone greatsword in his hand.
Queen!
Her transformation and birth seemed to be echoed by the entire “world,” causing the earth to tremble and dark clouds to roll in, accompanied by lightning and thunder.
These anomalies were not “special effects” set by Dumbledore.
In Vaughn’s eyes, he could clearly see the symbols of the painted world flickering intensely during Harry’s transformation.
The symbols filling his vision were like the lights of an amusement park, constantly rotating, blinking on and off. The shaking of the earth, the dark clouds, and the lightning were all manifestations of their overloaded operation.
Even with Vaughn’s beginner-level alchemy, he could perceive the immense magic and profound power required for this “transformation.”
Essentially, it was transforming a 12-year-old boy, who was basically powerless, into a magical creation with immense destructive power!
“Ah—”
Harry let out a hoarse scream, his voice filled with unmistakable hatred and anger. The towering Queen statue, having transformed, slightly bent under his control and lunged forward fiercely!
The white squares of the chessboard cracked and burst beneath his feet. The moment a circle of white shockwaves spread, the Queen statue’s form blurred—
Then became clear.
It had surprisingly crossed several feet and leaped behind the Black King. Only then did a loud bang erupt behind him, dragging cracks and white airwaves in its wake.
At the same time, the Black King’s body shattered, broken in half at the waist.
Large fragments and fine stone dust were scattered along with the airwaves and dust, marking the end of this game.
But everyone knew that things were far from over!
The moment the chess game ended, Quirrell realized that the mysterious force that had bound him and prevented him from moving freely on the chessboard had disappeared.
He saw the Queen, transformed from Harry, turn its head over twenty feet away. He saw the greatsword raised again.
The transformation was not over!
The chessboard could no longer restrain movement!
So, who would the enraged and hateful Harry’s controlled Queen “eat” next?
Quirrell could figure that out even with his backside!
The electric shock punishment in the painted world was agonizing. To avoid disturbing his master, he not only dared not borrow his master’s residual power to resist but also had to expend magic to “protect” his master from being disturbed.
But no matter how painful the electric shock, it couldn’t be more important than his life.
Therefore, Quirrell almost instantly drew his wand, waved it, and cast a spell—
“Full Body-Bind!”
BANG!
The moment the spell was cast and a thick, viscous force field formed in front of him, violent ripples spread, followed by shrieks and roars from the air being torn apart.
The Queen’s afterimage vanished from its original position, and its towering body crashed into the force field of the Full Body-Bind Jinx.
“Damn it!” Cold sweat broke out on Quirrell’s forehead. The backlash from the rough impact made him dizzy.
He dared not delay for a moment and waved his wand again.
“Sectumsempra!”
“Bombarda!”
Blasts of magic exploded one after another on the Queen, and the terrifying power seemed to hit her like high-speed cannonballs. The Queen stumbled back two steps.
But that was all!
Seeing that his spells couldn’t even create a small dent on the Queen, Quirrell’s expression tensed. He swung his wand with more force, and two successive Bombarda spells enveloped the Queen in flames.
Immediately after, he quickly turned, and a silent red light of a Disarming Charm shot towards Hermione—or rather, towards the Flying Broomstick Hermione had been holding!
No matter how cowardly he appeared in the past, it was just an act. The real Quirrell was an adult wizard, an excellent Ravenclaw who dared to set his training grounds in the Balkan Peninsula.
No matter how subservient a dog appears to its master, when facing the outside world, it can still be a German Shepherd, a Caucasian Shepherd, or a Tibetan Mastiff—fierce, cunning, decisive!
Just like Quirrell now!
Upon realizing his magic was ineffective against Harry, he almost immediately switched targets. Or rather, from the moment he saw Harry and Hermione, he had already made his plan in his mind.
That was not foreseeing the current situation, but rather that Hermione held a Flying Broomstick!
Regardless of the school of magic, in the modern spell system, maneuverability is always the most important factor. Given the current situation where free spellcasting is restricted, a Flying Broomstick is undoubtedly the optimal choice for maintaining maneuverability.
However, what surprised Quirrell was that Hermione Granger, whom he had heard about as a bookworm, was not the type to just study.
The moment the red light of the Disarming Charm shot from his wand tip, Hermione had already cast a spell:
“Protego!”
Although, in Quirrell’s opinion, the girl’s Protego was very immature, the thin barrier of light was as fragile as a soap bubble.
But she still managed to put up a defense.
She had been guarding against him all along!
The red light arrived at lightning speed. With a pop, Hermione’s Protego shattered. Quirrell, casting another Disarming Charm in close succession, hit her.
The powerful magic sent her flying, and her wand, along with the Flying Broomstick she held, spun into the air under the spell’s effect.
All of this happened in the blink of an eye.
On the other side, Harry, having just suffered a setback, roared and controlled the Queen to smash through the exploding clouds in front of him. The ground beneath his feet blasted open a large pit.
Whoosh—
The air emitted a sound like a train whistle, the whistling sound of high-speed objects tearing through the air!
Quirrell dared not cause further trouble. Ignoring Hermione and her wand, he hastily flicked his wand, pulled the Flying Broomstick towards him, jumped onto it, and without a second’s delay, took off!
In the next instant, the ground where he had been exploded!
The spherical shockwave was like a bubble cavity exploding underwater from a firecracker. The white airwaves visibly expanded, mixed with rubble, and the shadow of the Queen’s greatsword reappearing as it cleaved the ground!
Cursing, Quirrell, ignoring the pain in his legs and backside from the debris, tightened his grip on the broom and fled into the depths of the forest!
Quirrell would never have imagined that he would one day be chased by a child less than 12 years old.
Harry also couldn’t have imagined that he would one day be chasing an adult wizard with a sword in hand.
In fact, he had already lost his reason at this point. Pain and regret filled every corner of his mind. The chilling sensation of Legilimency was insignificant in the face of that burning rage.
“Chessboard Town endgame complete, commencing settlement…”
The narrator’s voice sounded in his ear. He didn’t listen. Driven by anger, he instinctively used the powerful strength he had suddenly gained to chase the figure fleeing towards the forest.
His power was so immense that casually picking up a stone and throwing it resulted in a deafening roar.
The stone trailed behind it with a whistle, like a cannonball.
Unfortunately, its accuracy was significantly off. It roared past about 10 feet to Quirrell’s right, flew aimlessly over the forest for a while, and then fell!
The groans and loud crashes of falling trees echoed from a distance.
Harry could see Quirrell in mid-air looking back, as if to mock him. However, at this moment, under his furious gaze, a bolt of lightning descended from the sky.
Crack!
The moment the explosive sound of thunder blasted into his ears, lightning engulfed Quirrell. The figure, now small in the air, smoked and plummeted downwards.
“That’s violating the rule of electric shock punishment!”
A trace of clarity suddenly surged into Harry’s muddled mind. But instead of excitement, he abruptly turned his head to look at Chessboard Town.
He saw another bolt of lightning descend from high above towards Chessboard Town.
It was Hermione!
As expected, his reawakened mind received the narrator’s voice: “…Quirrell Quirinus, Hermione Granger, punishment complete!”
“Hermione…”
Harry hesitated, looking towards where Quirrell had fallen and then towards Chessboard Town, which was emitting faint wisps of smoke. His pursuit slowed to a stop.
After a moment, he clenched his fist.
Ron… Ron was no longer here. He couldn’t bear to see another companion’s fate unknown…
“Damn it!”
…
“Damn it!”
Vaughn stared at Dumbledore. Though he said nothing, his eyes clearly conveyed a similar sentiment.
Old Dumbledore’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 heh… In that situation, would she just wait to die if she didn’t resist? You should be glad Quirrell only cast a Disarming Charm; if it were Dark Arts…”
“Don’t laugh like that. For some reason, I always feel like you’re scolding me.” Dumbledore sighed, but still explained, “There couldn’t have been Dark Arts. I made very detailed arrangements for this stage, entirely based on the personalities and strengths of Harry, Weasley, and Granger.”
“I asked Minerva to plan the endgame; the only solution was to push Harry to transform. Ron’s ‘sacrifice’ was also within expectations, including Harry’s emotional breakdown.”
“Facing Harry, who had gained immense power after transforming and lost his reason, Quirrell was utterly incapable of casting Dark Arts. You’ve studied the corruption of Dark Arts, dear. You should be able to tell that Quirrell’s level of Dark Arts is very poor. In a situation where the opportunity flashes by, even if he could cast Dark Arts, its power would probably only be enough to tickle.”
“As for the punishment, you know, the first punishment wasn’t severe, just a little painful, a warning.”
Vaughn remained noncommittal: “I hope this is the last time, Albus. Harry has now achieved ‘transformation’ and has the ability to fight Quirrell. Can the rule prohibiting magic be removed now?”
He had some understanding of contracts and did not request “the punishment only applies to Quirrell.”
The basic framework of rules originates from contracts, and the reason that contract magic can force everyone to abide by the rules, regardless of their will, is that it treats everyone equally.
Any wizard who steps into the stage is deemed to have agreed to the contract, unless they are its creator or possess its key.
Dumbledore nodded repeatedly: “Of course, dear. In my original plan, the rule restrictions would be lifted in the next stage. Honestly, they can’t be maintained anymore…”
He looked at the black smoke rising from the distant forest: “Alas, if this is further humiliated, Tom might not be able to sit still!”
Quirrell was never a match. If he didn’t have a Socket Man attached to the back of his head, he wouldn’t even have the qualifications to be an opponent for the Boy Who Lived.
Even for Dumbledore, his contract and rules could only restrict Quirrell and the trio. Against Socket Man, they would probably be useless.
Even if Socket Man was just a remnant soul, his magic and knowledge were still at the level of the former Dark Lord.
Having received Dumbledore’s promise, Vaughn stopped speaking and looked down at Harry below—he had already given up chasing Quirrell and was preparing to return to Chessboard Town to rescue Hermione.
“He’s such a good child, isn’t he, Vaughn?”
Dumbledore began to shed tears again.
This time, Vaughn didn’t ignore him but nodded.
However, compared to Harry’s character, he was more interested in Harry’s current state: “What magic is maintaining Harry’s transformation? It’s somewhat like Transfiguration, but not quite.”
“An ancient magic, or rather, an ancient Transfiguration, dear.”
Dumbledore’s answer touched upon Vaughn’s blind spot. He had little research into ancient magic, as it was an abandoned magical system. While ancient magic had advantages, it had more disadvantages.
For example, its demanding casting conditions.
To give a rather grim example, for the thousand years from the Middle Ages until the complete development of the modern spell system, wizards were persecuted by Muggle witch hunts. One of the main reasons was that the mainstream ancient magic system of that era was too slow to activate, making it difficult to form combat power quickly.
In the literature Vaughn had seen, many wizards hadn’t even finished preparing their magical rituals when caught by Muggles. Not only did they fail to cast their magic, but the traces of the ritual became evidence confirming their identity as wizards…
Of course, if he had the time, Vaughn would also study and master it, even delve deeply into its research.
After all, it was the previous generation of the modern spell system, closer to the original form of magic, and highly valuable for research.
Especially since this ancient magic was a form of Transfiguration!
As if 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’re interested, perhaps we could go for an academic visit during the summer holidays!”
He winked: “As the continent with the most severe factional divisions today, many werewolves choose to hide in East and Southern Africa. To my knowledge, Wagadu even retains the tradition of holding werewolf classes!”
Wagadu’s reputation in the global wizarding world is not very prominent, much like Africa, its location. When people mention it, they think of poverty, backwardness, and chaos.
Although the actual situation is indeed like that…
For most wizards, the name Wagadu is like a lost secret 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 Dumbledore mentioned it.
Hearing that Old Dumbledore wanted to take him on an academic visit, he thought for a moment and asked, “Where is Wagadu?”
“The Mountains of the Moon in Uganda.”
“Uganda…” Vaughn began to recall his past and present lives, his impressions of this East African country.
Regrettably, his knowledge of Uganda was limited to the benevolent ruler Amin, who was fond of cannibalism and was still alive, and nothing else.
Upon closer reflection, he could only recall war and turmoil.
Seemingly understanding his thoughts, Dumbledore, gazing intently at Harry below, twirled his beard and smiled: “The situation of the African wizarding world is much better than that of Muggle society. Muggles may be forced into prolonged division for various reasons, but Muggle regimes cannot interfere with wizards.”
“Wizards still have widespread influence in Africa, and it’s also a place where the Secrecy Statute is particularly relaxed. Many Muggle tribes maintain close relationships with wizards.”
“Undeniably, they are indeed quite insular, only beginning to accept wands and modern spell systems a century ago. But that doesn’t mean they are backward. I guarantee you will be interested in their hand gesture and dance magic. Those are magics inherited from ancient Egypt, further refined in modern times, on one hand adhering to the spell system, and on the other hand retaining some characteristics of ancient magic. They are very interesting.”
Listening, Vaughn’s interest was gradually piqued.
In the literature he had previously encountered, there was not much description of the African wizarding world and Wagadu. He only knew that they rarely used wands and spells, but instead used hand gestures and dances as casting mediums.
Thinking about it now, it was indeed quite similar to ancient magic rituals.
Vaughn nodded: “Then during the summer holiday, let’s make a brief academic visit. How are the werewolves there?”
“They are rampant, dear.” Dumbledore’s smile faded from his face, and he sighed, “As I said before, the chaotic situation of African Muggle regimes means there are no constraints on dark wizards there. Lacking stable social order, the spread of lycanthropy naturally cannot be curbed.”
“If not for the unique Transfiguration of Wagadu wizards, the magical world there might have been overrun by werewolves and vampires long ago—not through attacks, but because Muggles who couldn’t survive would not care about life and pain; they would even willingly ask to be infected!”
“In fact, even if we don’t mention it, Wagadu might invite you for a visit by the end of this year at the latest. Babajide Ajinbad submitted an observation application to the Werewolf Affairs Committee to the International Confederation of Wizards a few days ago, and in the coming years, he will become one of the committee members.”
Vaughn silently repeated the strange and somewhat familiar name and asked, “Who is he?”
“Babajide Ajinbad?”
After receiving Vaughn’s confirmation, Dumbledore replied with a smile, “Headmaster of Wagadu, representative of African wizards, a rising power leader in the International Confederation of Wizards in recent years. If nothing unexpected happens, when I step down or die, he is very likely to succeed me as the new President.”
Oh, another power player!
Vaughn immediately lost interest. Rather than learning about a future president, he’d rather focus more on observing Harry’s changes.
Storing this brief conversation into his memory archive, Vaughn fell silent and shifted his attention back downwards. He “saw” that the interwoven symbols throughout the space, after a period of overloaded operation, were beginning to fade.
“Is the transformation ending?” Vaughn asked speculatively.
Dumbledore nodded: “It’s normal. After all, it’s an external force, and Harry’s own magic has been resisting it. But it’s enough to counter Quirrell.”
“I hope so!”
…
Hermione didn’t know what real electric shock felt like. In her life, she had only seen one case of electric shock: when the twins secretly conducted an experiment and sent Ron to the Hospital Wing.
Ron lay there for two whole days that time, and Madam Pomfrey force-fed him an unknown amount of potions.
The electric shock in the painted world was definitely not like that. It was probably some kind of magic, and its main target wasn’t the body, but… magic power?
After a few twitches, she got up from the ground, Hermione trembling as she felt her body’s internal condition.
It was a bit bad. Her usually smooth magic power was now being interfered with by something, making it sluggish and difficult.
But that was all. The first electric shock punishment seemed to be just a warning. Hermione could feel her internal condition improving.
This discovery further convinced her that the painted world was likely a trial ground meticulously prepared by Dumbledore and Vaughn.
To test Harry and Quirrell!
“What exactly are they trying to do?”
The girl sat there blankly, her mind filled with confusion.
At this moment, the nearby woods parted with a shake. Hermione turned her head to look, and a giant gray Queen statue emerged from the woods.
She wasn’t nervous because she recognized it as the Queen Harry had transformed into.
Not long ago, she had seen it unleash terrifying destructive power.
As expected, upon seeing her, the “Queen” walked over quickly: “Hermione, are you alright?”
“I’m fine, Harry…”
Hearing the familiar question, Hermione’s heart warmed. She knew Harry must have returned specifically because he was worried about her.
In the year they had known each other, Harry had many flaws, often annoying her along with Ron.
But he also had many good qualities, such as his seriousness and sincerity towards friendship.
He would give up chasing Quirrell out of concern for her, and because of Ron… Ron… uh…
Thinking of Ron, Hermione’s expression stiffened. She couldn’t help but glance back at the chessboard that had swallowed Ron.
As if noticing her movement, the “Queen,” which had been rumbling forward, suddenly stopped, like a silent stone, devoid of all sound.
He is sad…
As this thought crossed her mind, Hermione saw large piles of stone fragments scattering from the motionless Queen.
The transformation was about to end!
The stone fragments peeled off the Queen statue like sand swept by the wind, drifting into the void behind it, and the statue’s size rapidly diminished.
Before long, it had completely disappeared, leaving only a small boy kneeling at the edge of the chessboard, teary-eyed and sobbing.
“Hermione… Ron, Ron is dead…”
……….
“Achoo!”
When Ron woke up, before he could see where he was, he let out a loud sneeze.
“Damn it, who’s cursing me?”
Grumbling drowsily, Ron sat up, rubbed his eyes, and looked ahead. Then, his head rose higher and higher, his mouth gradually widening.
Who am I?
Where am I?
Wasn’t I playing chess with Harry? Where is Chessboard Town? Where are Harry and Hermione?
What is this in front of me?
Countless thoughts bombarded Ron’s mind, causing his limbs and brain to almost cease functioning. Only his pale blue eyes remained functional, reflecting a terrifying figure that gradually revealed its true face as he slowly raised his head.
A Fire Dragon!
An adult Fire Dragon!
Its thick hind legs were crouched, with spiked membrane wings attached to its forelimbs, resembling a mountain wall covered in wrinkles and ravines in front of Ron.
Ron strained his neck to see the head above the membrane wings, with its rough scales, menacing spikes, long snout, and sharp teeth.
It also had a dark ridge extending from its head down its back.
It looked full of aggression, as if every part of its body was etched with violence and cruelty!
This is a Norwegian Ridgeback!
Ron, who had specifically researched this breed to help Hagrid feed Norbert, suddenly remembered its species. He froze for a moment, then finally reacted with a scream and tried to run.
Then, he heard a deafening roar.
The pressure from the sound wave vibrating the air squeezed Ron’s eardrums, making him briefly deaf and causing him to lose his balance. Before he could even take two steps, he stumbled and fell to the ground.
Immediately after, Ron felt something grab him. Looking down, he almost fainted—it was a claw covered in rough scales, each one looking thicker than his own. It held him like an adult grasping a mouse!
Ron was so scared he cried tears, struggling desperately.
But the beast that held him was cruel and heartless. It played with him like a mouse, dragging him back to its front, placing him down, and then bending one of its claws.
Thwack!
It flicked his forehead!
The seemingly gentle action felt like a punch to Ron. His mind went blank, and his ears buzzed as he collapsed to the ground.
After a while, he recovered. As soon as he sat up, before he could do anything.
The giant claw, attached to the membrane wing, grabbed him again, placed him down, bent the claw, and flicked his forehead…
Thwack!
Ron: “@_@”
For the rest of the time, it was basically a repetition of this process. After an unknown number of forehead flicks, feeling as if his brain matter was being shaken into a pulp, Ron finally, upon regaining consciousness again, wisely lay on the ground, raised his hands, and shouted:
“Stop hitting me! I surrender!”
Clack.
A huge, sharp claw landed in front of him, kicking up dust that choked him with a cough, but it no longer grabbed him.
Ron breathed a sigh of relief, feeling weak all over, filled with the terror of having narrowly escaped death, and a sliver of relief—fortunately, they could still communicate!
The giant claw, which had been pointed at his eyes, slowly retracted. Then, a deep breathing sound slowly approached from above.
Ron quietly looked up.
Above, a pair of vertical pupils stared at him intently.
Whether it was an illusion or not, Ron seemed to see human-like emotions in those eyes, like… amusement?
Knowing that Fire Dragons had intelligence comparable to humans, Ron immediately started thinking, trying to recall if he had seen this one before.
Having seen a Fire Dragon with his own eyes and been flicked on the forehead several times, Ron understood that he was likely still within the mechanisms protecting the Philosopher’s Stone.
He hadn’t forgotten that during their time in Fairytale Town, he and Quirrell had been punished by a Fire Dragon for failing a mission.
“Could this be that Fire Dragon?”
Thinking this, Ron forced a smile, racking his brain for any flattering words he could use to get close to the giant beast before him.
At this moment, he heard the narrator speak.
“Your betrayal of your companions has attracted the attention of the great and cruel Fire Dragon Nobeta. She admires your cowardice and despises your shamelessness. Now, Ron Weasley, your fate rests in the hands of Lord Nobeta. You must appease her to re-enter the game!”
“Re-enter the game? Does that mean I’m already out at Chessboard Town? If I appease this Fire Dragon, I can go back?”
Ron, while trying to analyze the narrator’s words, stealthily looked up again.
Overhead, those terrifying vertical pupils still stared at him mockingly, seeming to carry a hint of anticipation.
Ron didn’t think too deeply; he was still immersed in his own thoughts. Of course, he wanted to go back. Harry and Hermione still needed his help, needed him to stand with them against Quirrell!
Therefore, he apparently had to appease this dragon!
“The narrator said ‘she,’ so it’s a female dragon? Damn it, female Norwegian Ridgebacks are far more ferocious than males. If only Norbert had stayed…” Wait…
The freckles on Ron’s face turned transparent white.
He stiffly raised his head, looking at the protruding eyes of the dragon’s head above, its long snout, its wrinkled membrane wings…
Scenes he had almost forgotten suddenly flashed before his eyes—
“…It’s a female dragon, Hagrid…”
“Let’s give it a new name, how about Nobeta?”
Ron’s lips trembled. The appeasing smile on his face, under the impact of a sudden truth, became uglier than a cry.
He choked out a tearful groan from his throat: “Nobeta?”
“Roar—Gagagaga!”
Nobeta let out an unpleasant sound, which was neither a roar nor a laugh. She raised her long, thin, bony neck, which had a sculpted, sharp-lined appearance, and spewed flames into the air.
She looked extremely happy.
But those vertical pupils became increasingly narrow, like a viper that had detected its prey and was full of predatory desire!
She extended a membrane wing, grabbed Ron with her claw again, placed him down, repeated the previous steps, bent the claw, and flicked—
Thwack!
