Exams

"Professor Snape should have contributed as well," said Vizet thoughtfully. "We had a lesson on potion identification not long ago — and one of the potions mentioned seemed like it could be connected to the test."

Dumbledore nodded, eyes warm with amusement. "It's rare for Severus to be so… thorough. But yes, he designed a level of his own."

"I'm not sure about the rest of the protections," Vizet admitted, "but I'd wager Professors Flitwick and McGonagall are involved too. How many levels are there in total?"

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "There's also Quirinus's contribution," he said. "And finally — the last chamber, prepared especially for Voldemort by me." He clapped his hands lightly. "Would you like to know the details?"

Vizet shook his head. "No need. After thinking through the protections, I came to a realization... none of these challenges are designed to be impossibly difficult, are they?"

"That's right," Dumbledore said, rubbing his temples lightly. "Each of the professors who created a test also worked the solution into their lessons. The purpose isn't to stop Voldemort entirely — just to slow him down."

"So, it really is just a test," Vizet said, more to himself than anyone.

Dumbledore gave a small, knowing smile. "Indeed. I've set the path with someone specific in mind — Harry Potter. If he should reach the end and meet you there, please don't be too surprised."

Vizet's brow furrowed. "Will Harry be in danger? If he gets involved, I imagine Hermione and Ron won't be far behind."

"Only Harry will be tested in the final chamber," Dumbledore said quietly. "I can promise you that. The last room — where the Philosopher's Stone is hidden — is the most suitable place to confront Voldemort."

"I'll do everything I can to ensure it's safe. We must limit the risk to others. That's why I must insist again: always wear the pendant. Keep it with you, no matter what."

"I understand," Vizet said, nodding, his gaze drifting down to the locket hanging against his chest. He reached up and touched it gently, deep in thought.

His eyes wandered around the headmaster's office — pausing for a moment on the empty space behind Dumbledore's desk.

Something was missing.

And that confirmed what Vizet had begun to suspect.

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A mixture of anticipation and apprehension filled Vizet as he stepped into the final stretch of the school year: exam season.

With summer fast approaching, the castle had grown uncomfortably warm. Fortunately, Vizet's desk during the written exams was positioned right by a windowsill, where a steady breeze drifted in through the open panes. The fresh air made the heat bearable — even pleasant.

The written exams themselves posed little challenge. Vizet relied on his strong memory and keen understanding to finish each paper swiftly and confidently. As usual, he was the first to hand in his test.

Afterwards, he found a quiet corridor, pulled out Dumbledore's parchment, and read it carefully once more.

The note contained the basic outline of the Plan to Save Professor Quirrell — a step-by-step strategy for breaking Voldemort's control at the critical moment. Dumbledore himself would provide the secret cue to signal the right time.

But the depths of Voldemort's cruelty remained unknown.

In preparation, Vizet practiced the Purification Spell repeatedly — again and again — refining each motion until it became instinctive. He wanted to be able to cast it instantly, without any hesitation.

The spell, imbued with primordial magic and born of his own creation, came more easily to him than others might expect. Its mastery wasn't just about casting comfortably — it was about releasing his full power without hesitation, without fear.

In between revising and practicing, Vizet also returned to the third-floor corridor and confirmed a lingering suspicion: the cerberus guarding the trapdoor was indeed Fluffy, the same creature he had met in Diagon Alley.

Once the written exams ended, the practical ones followed.

Charms class tested the Levitation Charm — students were required to make a pineapple leap onto a desk and perform a tap dance.

In Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall assigned a classic challenge: turning a matchstick into a needle.

For Potions, the task was to brew a Forgetfulness Potion. Vizet completed it with practiced ease and was once again among the first to leave.

Later that day, he overheard Hannah and a few other students laughing about something that had happened during the Potions exam.

As usual, Snape had glided silently between desks, occasionally pausing behind a student like a shadow with eyes. The tension in the room grew so high that a few students, in their panic, began ladling mouthfuls of their Forgetfulness Potion straight from their cauldrons — tasting it as if it were soup.

One student kept drinking until their cauldron was empty—only to start brewing again in a daze and repeat the entire process.

Much to Hannah's dismay, the student in question belonged to Slytherin. Snape didn't lose his temper. He simply waited for the poor student to be thoroughly confused and thoroughly full — then calmly pointed out the mistake.

The absurdity of it all wasn't lost on Vizet.

Naturally, he wove the funny scene into his Soul Labyrinth

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Before Vizet realized it, all the exams had ended, and night had fallen quietly over Hogwarts.

But he knew the true final exam still awaited him. Voldemort had promised as much — and it would likely come tonight.

Dumbledore had also left a message earlier, saying he would be leaving the school temporarily. He reminded Vizet again to wear the pendant at all times.

So Vizet waited.

Hours passed. The castle was silent. At last, Voldemort's message arrived.

A strip of purple cloth floated near the windowsill, distinct even from a distance by its unmistakable scent of garlic.

"Accio!"

Vizet raised his wand, and the cloth fluttered toward him on a breeze of magic. As it spread midair, a piece of paper tumbled out.

Vizet used another Summoning Charm and caught the parchment in his hand.

The writing on it was jagged and unhinged: Come to the corridor on the third floor!

He exhaled slowly, steadying himself. Then he checked the contents of his backpack: spare parchment, a few frog-shaped chocolates...

Finally, he pressed his hand to the pendant box at his chest. All set.

Quiet as a whisper, he slipped out of the common room.

Neville's voice rang out:"You can't go out, you'll be caught again. Gryffindor will be in even more trouble... I won't let you do it. I'll - I'll fight you!"

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Hermione's spell rang through the corridor, followed by the thud of a body hitting the floor.

Vizet turned a corner and approached an oil painting on the wall. He placed his wand gently against it and traced one of the lines with its tip.

The painting shimmered, glowing faintly, and the image within began to rotate — slowly at first, then faster — until it shifted entirely, forming the outline of a wooden door.

It was one of Fred and George's secret passages, a shortcut they often used when running late. Inside was a long, spiraling slide that led straight down to the third floor.

At the end of the descent, a voice echoed:

"Faster than expected, my student..."

Voldemort.

Professor Quirrell stood cloaked in shadow. A heavy traveling cloak enveloped him, hiding his face completely. Vizet couldn't tell what state he was in.

Vizet straightened, his voice calm. "I nearly fell asleep waiting. Did something happen?"

Voldemort responded in a light, almost amused tone."I know what you're thinking. But at least for now, Quirinus is fine — unconscious, nothing more."

Vizet stood taller. "Why did you summon me here?"

"The servant is unwilling to serve," Voldemort drawled. "So now, I must trouble the student..."