At the far end of the fourth-floor corridor, the thunderous growls of the three-headed dog, Fluffy, began to fade.

With his Transcendent Mode active, boosted further by his natural physique and the agility potion coursing through him, Tom was practically untouchable. Fluffy's snapping jaws and lunging strikes never even brushed his robes—instead, the beast had blundered right into the traps Tom had laid, injuring itself twice in quick succession.

Meanwhile, Tom's eyes were constantly searching for weak points to exploit—places like the belly, the joints… The nose would have been ideal, but it was far too close to those massive teeth, and the risk was unacceptable.

After taking a few hits, Fluffy got wiser. The dog curled itself into a tight ball, spinning to keep its front always facing Tom, ready to react instantly to any attack. The new tactic meant Tom's blows were landing far less often.

Ten minutes of fighting meant a hundred House Points—but potion effects don't last forever. Tom wasn't planning on dragging this battle out. Once he realized that exploiting weak points wasn't working, he changed strategy instantly.

With a kick against the wall, he launched himself upward, landing squarely on Fluffy's broad back. In a couple of nimble steps, he was atop the leftmost head—and began hammering away with relentless punches.

Fluffy's three heads shared senses; when one head suffered, the other two felt it as well. But these were massive heads with thick necks, and the other two couldn't reach him at all. The cramped corridor also limited how much the dog could thrash to shake him off.

Tom kept pounding the exact same spot, over and over, until the left head went slack and unconscious.

There was an easier route, of course—just blind all six of Fluffy's eyes—but Tom, even in his heightened state, understood that would only earn Dumbledore's wrath. His goal was to defeat Fluffy, not kill him.

Knocking the heads out one at a time left the beast alive and mostly unharmed, yet still completed the task. It was the optimal solution.

Once the left head was down, Tom vaulted to the right head. He found that both side heads were slower to react than the middle one—like picking the softest persimmon first, as the saying went.

With the first knockout under his belt, the second was even faster—perhaps because the dog had already endured too much pain.

Finally, only the middle head remained.

"Wuu~ Wuu~!"

Before Tom could even raise his fists again, the center head whimpered, lowering itself to the floor in surrender. The meaning was obvious: You've already beaten them—don't hit me too!

At that moment, the third palace within Tom's mindscape flared brilliantly.

With Fluffy's submission, the trial was complete.

The quest rewards rolled in, and in his Transcendent state Tom could clearly feel his skin toughen, a thin current of magic flowing over it—ready at any moment to deflect outside attacks. His bones had also strengthened, dragging the rest of his physical stats upward with them.

For a fleeting second, a thought crossed his mind: Am I on track to becoming a Berserker?

The idea vanished almost instantly under the weight of his absolute rationality.

"You stay here and keep watch," he ordered. "I'm going out to save someone. No one gets in—understand?"

The thoroughly beaten Fluffy bobbed all three heads and shuffled his massive hindquarters aside, revealing the trapdoor.

Tom jumped through, casting a Feather-Fall Charm mid-drop. He floated down like a drifting feather until he landed on something soft—something plant-like.

No sooner had he touched down than the vines coiled like snakes around his ankles.

"Incendio!"

A burst of searing flame lit up the entire chamber, revealing the plant's true form—Devil's Snare. Terrified of light and heat, it recoiled instantly, retreating into the corner in a tangled knot. The enclosed space had only a single stone corridor leading into darkness.

Tom strode forward—not to rescue Harry, but to claim the Philosopher's Stone.

Nicolas Flamel was still alive, but who could say whether he'd ever make another Stone? Once Tom had seen how the Strengthening Potion worked on Astoria, he understood what she truly lacked—life force itself.

And that was exactly what the Philosopher's Stone could provide.

He knew Dumbledore might have returned by now, eyes fixed on Harry, waiting for the boy to complete the trial laid before him. But that didn't stop Tom from interfering.

If he got the Stone, he'd have bargaining power—and a reason to meet Flamel in person.

Truth be told, neither Dumbledore nor Flamel truly cared who held the Stone, so long as it didn't fall into Voldemort's hands.

That was the cold calculation of Tom's Transcendent state.

But when he stepped into the next chamber, the effect ended—and the boy returned to normal… well, not quite normal. The Berserker Potion still surged through him. His strength and explosive power were greater than ever—but his temper was on a hair-trigger.

Everything annoyed him now. Especially this challenge—Professor Flitwick's room full of tiny, jewel-like birds, darting everywhere and chirping so loudly Tom's head throbbed.

With a snarl, he hurled a sphere of light upward. A thick beam of magic swept across the room, from left to right, from floor to ceiling, scouring every inch clean.

The raucous chirping ceased. So did the fluttering.

Unfortunately, so did the wall—along with a rack of broomsticks tucked into the corner.

The two rooms were now one, dimly lit without the shimmering birds to illuminate them.

When Tom stepped into the space where the second room had been, the chamber burst into bright light, revealing a massive chessboard on the floor. White pieces stood opposite him; black pieces flanked his side. In the corner, he spotted a crumpled figure—Ron Weasley.

A piece was missing from Tom's side. This puzzle adjusted to the number of challengers—originally, three missing pieces for three players. Without Hermione here, Ron's team would've been short two pieces.

But Tom had no patience for chess.

If Professor McGonagall saw this, she'd be devastated.

This had been her masterpiece in Transfiguration—her greatest achievement—and Tom had obliterated it with one violent spell.

Just in case any pieces decided to reassemble, Tom stomped through the wreckage, crushing every fragment into dust before continuing his speedrun.

The next chamber held a mountain troll sprawled on the floor, a bloody welt on its head. The door onward was already open.

The moment Tom entered, purple flames sprang up behind him, black flames before him.

"Finite Incantatem!"

Golden light rippled along the floor, racing forward and back. Both flame walls sputtered, then faded away.

And with that, Tom stepped into the final chamber.