Daphne tightly gripped the empty bottle, biting her lower lip hard. She never expected to be stopped for such a ridiculous reason!
The person who arrived first had drunk the potion, leaving those who came later unable to proceed even after solving the puzzle.
It was absurd!
Staring at the flames blocking their path, she had a bold and crazy idea: why not brew a fire-resistant potion and take a chance?
She knew how to brew potions but lacked the materials and tools.
Her fingers clenched the small bottle tightly. At that moment, she felt something raised on the surface of the bottle.
She picked up the bottle and found an inscription on its body: "No way above, a door below."
Daphne narrowed her eyes, placed the bottle back on the table, and carefully examined the floor. She noticed that a tile under the table seemed slightly uneven.
Pressing down on one corner of the tile and giving it a firm lift, she revealed what lay beneath: a complete set of cauldrons and a package of potion ingredients.
Daphne retrieved them and, upon opening the package, knew immediately what they were: all the ingredients needed to brew a fire-resistant potion.
'OK!'
She immediately set to work.
The amount of potion ingredients in the package was limited, enough for only one mistake at most. Even worse, she had no recipe or guidelines this time. All she could rely on were her brain and hands, but this did not affect her confidence in the slightest. She even felt that there were more than enough ingredients.
While Daphne was brewing the potion, a treatment was underway in the castle's infirmary.
"Mr. Lint's condition has stabilized," Snape said as he straightened up after administering a newly developed potion to Rhys, delivering the good news to Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey, who stood nearby.
"So when will he regain consciousness?" Madam Pomfrey observed Rhys's improved complexion, finally feeling relieved. Now, her primary concern was how long the boy would stay in her ward.
A fleeting look of embarrassment crossed Snape's face.
According to his design, Rhys should have regained consciousness by now, but he remained comatose. It seemed his potion needed further refinement.
Fortunately, the ashen color had faded from Rhys's face, and his rigid muscles had relaxed.
His condition was improving.
Currently, Rhys appeared no different from someone merely asleep. Snape didn't attempt to wake him, opting for caution instead.
"Antidotes are not cure-alls; the reasons for poisoning among the young witches and wizards at school are varied,"—this statement resonated with Madam Pomfrey—"I believe all we need to do now is wait. Rhys could wake up at any moment, possibly this afternoon or in a few days, no later than a week. However, be prepared for him to miss his final exams."
"We'll decide how many points to deduct then," Professor McGonagall said with a slight smile.
Smiles being conserved, Professor McGonagall smiled while Snape did not.
Snort~
With a swish of his robes, Snape turned and strode out of the infirmary, planning to catch some Gryffindor students breaking school rules and deduct a substantial number of points from them.
After Snape left, Professor McGonagall gave Madam Pomfrey a couple of instructions, asking her to notify her immediately once Rhys woke up.
She then departed as well. Madam Pomfrey lingered in the ward for a few more minutes before attending to a new wave of arriving students—this time, it was fifth-year students suffering from hysteria due to the stress of preparing for their O.W.L. exams.
When the infirmary was finally empty, Rhys, lying on the bed, slowly opened his eyes. He turned over and sat up, stretching his muscles, which were sore from lying down for too long.
To be honest, concocting a potion that could make him exhibit symptoms of poisoning without actually being fatal was much harder than making a regular potion. The latter only required following a potion recipe, whereas the former demanded extensive knowledge for an original creation.
Rhys had two reasons for doing this.
First, to ensure that the three 'exam' candidates would not have any external aid, Dumbledore had wisely chosen to use a "letter" tactic, while Rhys had no better excuse and had to resort to a "potion" tactic.
Secondly, since he was the one who had switched the Philosopher's Stone, he needed an alibi. Being hospitalized served as an excellent alibi, with two professors and Madam Pomfrey to vouch for him.
However, having an alibi didn't mean he had to stay out of the scene.
Although the protective measures set up by Dumbledore were quite "puzzle-like," the final villain was still somewhat dangerous.
Rhys believed that with Daphne's strength and the tools he had left for her, she could handle Quirrell easily. But dealing with the one behind Quirrell would be a bit more challenging.
He needed to follow and make sure nothing went wrong.
Rhys was confident that Dumbledore would be watching over Potter from the shadows, so he had to make some additional preparations.
Rhys first opened the cabinet by the wall of the infirmary, took out a set of clean bedding, and rolled it up on his bed.
Then he pointed his wand at the rolled-up bedding, and it transformed into his likeness. This wasn't a simple transformation; the Rhys made from the bedding could even breathe and take medicine, enough to fool Madam Pomfrey and the school professors.
After this, Rhys took out a small bottle from his pocket, filled with a thick, muddy liquid—he had also prepared Polyjuice Potion beforehand, which was now coming in handy.
To avoid revealing his identity, besides physical disguises like wearing a hood, Rhys would also use the Polyjuice Potion to ensure foolproof concealment.
Rhys rummaged through his small leather pouch for a while and found a small leather bag containing several bunches of hair, each tied with a ribbon labeled with Roman numerals.
Rhys selected a bunch marked "XXV," carefully took out a single strand, and placed it into the Polyjuice Potion.
The potion turned into a silver-green color.
After drinking it in one gulp, Rhys transformed into a young man with a head of black hair.
'Quite impressive, dashing indeed. Keeping some of my hair from back then was a brilliant decision,' Rhys thought, showing a satisfied expression as he looked at himself in the mirror—he had used hair from when he was twenty-five years old.
Transforming into his twenty-five-year-old self made many things much more convenient.
After casting a Disillusionment Charm on himself, Rhys walked straight out of the infirmary and headed for the third floor of the castle.
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12 Advance Chapters—Patreon.com/HornyFBI