At the same time, students wandering the castle grounds were astonished to spot someone who had been missing for more than a month.

"Professor Quirrell?"

Quirrell smiled and gave the wide-eyed students a polite nod. "I left in such a hurry last time that I never had the chance to pack up properly. I've come back to collect what's mine and make room for the next Defence Against the Dark Arts professor."

Hearing his explanation, no one doubted a thing.

By dinnertime, the corridors were mostly empty as students made their way to the Great Hall. Quirrell, however, pushed open the door to his office, made his way to the fourth-floor corridor, cast an Unlocking Charm on a room, and slipped inside.

A little later, three rather suspicious-looking figures appeared in the same area.

"Harry, are we really going in?" Neville gulped nervously. "Forget whether we could even take on Snape—just the three-headed dog at the door is more than we can handle."

"Trust me. I've learned a way to deal with the three-headed dog—Hagrid taught me himself. That's your part to handle, Neville."

"I'll… try," Neville said, nodding with difficulty.

When Tom pushed open the door and saw what lay before him, he froze for several seconds.

Neville, voice hoarse, was croaking out something that barely resembled a song, while the monstrous three-headed dog lay snoring beside an open trapdoor.

"Neville, what are you doing?" Tom asked, puzzled. "The dog's already asleep. Singing now is pointless. Even if you're worried it'll wake up, you can always sing later when it does."

The singing stopped abruptly. Neville stood there as if struck by lightning, wearing the hopeless expression of someone whose entire life had been a lie.

Such a simple solution—and he'd been standing here the whole time, singing like an idiot, waiting for Harry and Ron to come back?

Wait. Harry and Ron!

Neville hurried over to Tom, gesturing frantically and stammering to explain the situation.

"I get it," Tom said with a nod. "So Snape's after the Philosopher's Stone, and Harry and Weasley went to stop him, right?"

Neville nodded furiously.

"Then go fetch a professor, quickly. I'll watch the three-headed dog and make sure it doesn't wake up."

Though Tom was in Slytherin, Neville still remembered the help with his wand and held no suspicion that Tom might be in league with "Snape."

Besides, the last time Tom had cast a spell that left the three-headed dog unable to lift its heads was still burned vividly into Neville's mind. Compared to him, Neville really was better suited to running errands.

Without hesitation, Neville bolted off in search of a teacher.

But he'd forgotten a crucial detail… Harry had learned from Hagrid how to deal with the three-headed dog. But Tom?

Now the room held only Tom and the beast.

Tom stepped forward.

Smack!

He slapped the middle head sharply, then waited, watching for any reaction within the third palace of his mindscape.

Nothing.

So he resorted to punches and kicks, but the palace still gave no response. With a sigh, he gave up.

Figures—there's no cutting corners here.

After all, this hardly counted as "defeating" the three-headed dog. At most, it was "sleeping it into submission"… and under such half-hearted attacks, the dog wasn't dead—just asleep.

Soon, the eyelids over all six of its eyes began to twitch. Slowly, it woke—and blinked in surprise at the small wizard standing in front of it drinking down potion after potion.

Then recognition flared.

It was him!

The one who'd beaten it black and blue before!

Fear flashed first… and then an epiphany: the boy didn't have that little wooden stick with him this time.

This was its chance!

All three heads bared feral, predatory grins.

Downing the last of his potions, Tom smiled back.

"Come on then—whoever uses a wand today is the other guy's grandson!"

With that, he stomped down hard on one of the dog's toes.

With dragon's blood in his veins and a regimen of strengthening draughts in his system, Tom was already strong. Now, with an added burst from his explosive potions, he'd been able to wrestle unicorns into submission—both Max and Leo had fallen to him before.

But the three-headed dog was no unicorn. It was stronger in close quarters, tougher-skinned, and the only way to beat it barehanded was through… less-than-honourable tactics.

So, when the system registered that he'd entered the trial, Tom didn't hesitate to strike from behind.

Human or dog—slam a toe hard enough, and it's agony.

And this, truly, was where man proved to be crueler than beast.

Fluffy—yes, this was Hagrid's Fluffy—howled in pain and rage, one paw lashing out to swat Tom aside.

But with agility potion in his veins, Tom ducked smoothly under the blow and drove a fist into the dog's belly. The thick layers of flesh rippled, absorbing much of the force, and Fluffy lunged forward with a cavernous bite as if nothing had happened.

In the cramped space, they began to circle each other. But with three heads, Fluffy's vision was exceptional—every carefully plotted movement of Tom's was tracked by those six unblinking eyes, as if the dog had some kind of Sharingan-like cheat for perfect shared vision.

Oh, so you've got hacks, huh?

With a thought, Tom triggered his Transcendent State.

This wasn't magic—it was talent.

At once, the world seemed to slow, the rage from the berserker draught clamped down by the higher-order control of the Transcendent State. Cold clarity filled his mind, and he began to calculate the quickest, least costly way to bring Fluffy down.

Meanwhile, in another chamber ringed with walls of fire…

Harry stared, scalp prickling, at a table holding seven oddly shaped bottles and a parchment covered in writing.

Every word, taken alone, he knew—but strung together, the meaning was a complete mystery.

He was abruptly reminded of his very first Potions lesson, when Snape had mocked him and offered to arrange remedial English lessons.

The evil Snape—of course this challenge was his doing, designed specifically to stop Harry in his tracks!