HP: The Dangerous Azkaban Professor

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Harry and Hermione's adventure wasn't over yet. As they pushed open the heavy wooden door, a wave of foul stench surged out like a crashing tide — a sickening blend of rotting flesh and damp mildew that hit them square in the face.

The two of them instantly staggered back a couple of steps, coughing and choking as tears welled up uncontrollably in their eyes.

Through their blurred vision, they could just make out a towering creature pacing slowly around the room. It was enormous, easily fifteen feet tall, its massive stone club dragging behind it with each step, and every time its foot landed, the ground trembled faintly under their feet.

"Merlin's beard…" Hermione's voice caught in her throat. The creature before them was even larger than the troll they'd faced on Halloween, its greyish-blue skin covered in swollen boils and warts, with a filthy strip of animal hide wrapped around its waist, reeking so badly it made their stomachs churn.

The creature suddenly stopped. It tilted its huge head, staring at the intruders with dull, cloudy eyes that flickered with slow, sluggish curiosity.

"Don't just stand there, Hermione!" Harry grabbed her wrist sharply. "Remember Professor Greengrass's practical lessons? Fred told us…they mentioned…"

"What?" Hermione's face was utterly blank with confusion.

"Professor Greengrass's practical lessons! Loads of students managed to deal with trolls during those sessions, didn't they?" As he spoke, Harry darted across the room, drawing the troll's attention toward himself. Over his shoulder, he shouted back at her, "Those spells… You must know at least one of them, right?!"

Hermione finally snapped out of her daze. "Spells? Right, I… I know loads of them…"

"That's it! Figure out a way to bring it down!"

"Let me think… let me think…" The young witch muttered under her breath, forcing herself to push aside the panic clawing at her chest. Her breathing steadied as she quickly combed through her memory, her eyes suddenly lighting up. "I've got it!"

"Lead it over here…" Hermione called out loudly to Harry, pointing to a spot just a few paces ahead of her. "Right here — bring it this way!"

The troll, frustrated after several failed attempts to grab Harry with its oversized, clumsy hands, was growing visibly more irritable by the second. Letting out an angry snarl, it abruptly switched tactics, hefting its stone club and swinging it wildly at him.

Dodging left and right, Harry narrowly avoided the crushing blows by sheer instinct and quick footwork, but even so, cold sweat was beading on his forehead, trickling steadily down his temples.

At last, with considerable effort, he managed to lure the troll exactly to the spot Hermione had indicated. The young witch was already standing there, her wand raised high, her expression sharp with focus and determination.

"Deprimo Spell!"

Hermione cast the spell with unwavering precision, aiming it right at the floor beneath the troll's heavy feet. The moment the spell's glow struck the ground, the once solid floor cracked apart and caved in, a gaping hole splitting wide open beneath the creature.

The enraged troll, so fixated on chasing Harry that it never noticed where it was stepping, lumbered straight into the pit. Its massive body immediately lost balance as the ground vanished beneath it.

BOOOOM—!

The massive troll crashed to the floor with a thunderous thud, the impact so fierce it sent tremors through the room. In its panic, the creature fumbled its stone club, losing its grip as the heavy weapon flew through the air straight toward Harry, who had instinctively turned back to look.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

A perfectly cast Levitation Charm caught the club mid-air, halting its deadly momentum just in time to spare Harry from being crushed.

"Boulder Slam!"

Without missing a beat, Hermione directed the levitating club with precision, sending it hurtling straight into the troll's head.

The beast, which had only just begun to struggle back to its feet, slumped to the ground with a dull groan. Its bulky frame lay motionless, completely unconscious, while a swollen, bloody lump quickly rose on its misshapen forehead.

Harry collapsed onto the floor, his chest heaving violently as though his heart were about to burst through his ribcage.

Hermione, still holding her wand aimed steadily at the troll, was visibly trembling. But her eyes had already regained their resolve. "Come on, let's go."

She hauled Harry to his feet, her voice urgent. "Professor Snape might have already gotten the Philosopher's Stone."

Half-stumbling, half-running, the two of them bolted into the next room, gasping greedily for the relatively fresher air.

But the sight before them made both freeze in place.

At the center of the room stood an ancient stone table, weathered and cold. Upon it sat seven glass bottles, each one shaped differently, lined up neatly in a row. Under the flickering, ghostly blue flames, the bottles gleamed with an eerie, dreamlike glow.

"Snape's trap…" Harry muttered, his voice tight, his fingers unconsciously brushing over the scar on his forehead.

Just then, a loud whoosh echoed behind them. The door they'd entered through erupted in strange, purple flames, their glow casting unsettling shadows across the stone walls. At the same time, the only visible exit ahead ignited with a solid wall of jet-black fire, blocking their path.

They were trapped, caught inside this deadly puzzle with no way back and no way forward.

Hermione hurried forward, her trembling fingers carefully unrolling the parchment that lay beside the bottles. As Harry leaned in closer, a sharp, distinctive scent rose from the parchment — a strange blend of wormwood and mint, bitter yet cool, carving its presence into the air.

"Danger lies ahead…" Hermione softly read aloud the riddle, her voice carrying a faint echo that reverberated in the enclosed space.

As she deciphered each clue one by one, Harry's gaze wandered anxiously across the seven bottles arranged before them. The slender crystal bottle on the far left held a swirling, emerald-green liquid. Beside it sat a short, squat ceramic jar containing a thick, dark purple potion that squirmed and palpitated like some living thing. In the very center, a silver bottle stood gleaming, its surface frosted over with a layer of ice…

"What a brilliant puzzle," Hermione murmured, her eyes never leaving the parchment. "But this isn't magic… it's pure logic. Without a proper head for logic, one would be stuck in here for ever."

"What? Are you saying we… we can't get out?" Harry's heart skipped a beat, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

"Of course we can," Hermione replied, calm and confident. "The answer's right here on this parchment. Among these seven bottles, one will get us pass safely through the black flames, and another will take us back through the purple fire."

Harry stared at Hermione as she worked through the riddle with quiet concentration. Only now did he notice faint teardrops still clinging to her eyelashes — leftover from when the troll's stench had made them both tear up.

At that very moment, the conical bottle at the far right let out a soft pop, a single bubble rising to the surface. Inside, the amber-colored liquid was visibly decreasing, evaporating before their eyes.

"Hermione…" Harry whispered nervously. "I think these potions… they're going to evaporate…"

"I've solved it!" Hermione exclaimed, setting down the parchment with a decisive gesture. "According to the fourth clue, the second bottle from the left and the second from the right taste exactly the same. That means they're both nettle wine — they can't help us get through the flames."

Her wand hovered over the bottles one by one as she carefully pointed them out. "Which leaves us with this… the smallest one. That's the key to the next room. And this round bottle here… that's the one that will take us back to the previous room."

"How did you figure out the answer so fast?" Harry looked at her in disbelief, unable to hide his astonishment.

Hermione gave him a small, proud smile. "Don't forget, Harry, I'm a Muggle-born witch. When it comes to logic puzzles… well, there aren't many who can beat me."

"Let's do this." Harry drew in a deep breath, his hand tightening around the small, delicate crystal bottle as he placed it firmly into Hermione's palm.

"Listen to me," his voice came out even calmer than he'd expected, low and firm. "You go back and find Ron. Get two broomsticks from the room with the winged keys. Go straight to the owlery. Get Hedwig to send a message to Headmaster Dumbledore."

His green eyes shone with unwavering determination, their reflection flickering in the black flames before them. "And after that… if you can… try to find Professor Greengrass."

Hermione's fingers tightened around the little bottle, her knuckles turning pale. "But… what if that person is with Snape…"

"I've escaped from him once already." Harry's hand instinctively brushed over the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead as a faint, lopsided smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Maybe I'll be lucky enough to escape him again."

Hermione's lips quivered slightly. Then, all of a sudden, she threw her arms around him, hugging him tight. Her voice was muffled against his shoulder. "You're the bravest wizard I've ever seen."

"I'm not," Harry mumbled, his ears flushing red with embarrassment. "You're the amazing one. We wouldn't have made it past the first obstacle without you."

Hermione took a step back, wiping the corner of her reddened eyes. "Me? I'm just… good at memorizing things. But there are some things… some things books can't teach you…"

She suddenly thought of something Professor Greengrass had once told them. "Like real courage. And… friendship. The kind that's worth more than gold."

"It really is… worth more than gold." Harry nodded firmly, his voice filled with quiet certainty. He picked up the smallest bottle, then handed the round one to Hermione.

"Then… let's toast to our friendship." The boy tried to smile, a shaky, uneven grin creeping onto his face as he forced himself to joke, though his voice trembled faintly.

"You're sure these are the right bottles, aren't you? No mistake?"

"Absolutely sure." Hermione nodded with conviction. Without another word, she raised the bottle and took a large gulp. Her whole body shivered involuntarily as the potion rushed through her.

"…Are you okay?"

Hermione shook her head, not to say no, but to shake off the chill.

"Then go back."

Hermione nodded, and with one last look, she dove straight into the flames.

The moment her body passed through the wall of fire, she heard Harry's voice calling after her from behind.

"Tell Ron… his chess game took way too long!"

The black flames swallowed her up completely, her figure vanishing from sight. Only a single strand of curled brown hair drifted to the ground, carried by the rising heat.

Harry stood there alone in front of the stone table, staring at the last mouthful of potion left in the small bottle in his hand. The wall of black fire churned and roared before him, like a wild, clawing beast ready to strike with its fangs bared.

He raised the bottle, took a deep breath, and whispered softly to the empty room, "I have to do this."

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