Chapter 147: The Mirror of Erised
"Impedimenta."
Invisible barriers spread through the air like rippling glass—but the winged keys did not slow in the slightest.
Russell exhaled.
"So that's useless."
His gaze shifted to the broom leaning against the wall. Because this was a test, it certainly wasn't a top-tier model—barely better than the battered school brooms used in first-year flying lessons.
And his own broom? Currently in Wednesday's possession.
"In that case…"
He considered simply blasting the door open. After all, it was just wood.
He tried Alohomora first.
No response. The wooden door didn't so much as tremble.
"Fine."
He inhaled slowly.
"Sectumsempra."
A dull thud echoed—but the door remained completely intact.
So Flitwick must have layered it with defensive enchantments.
Continuing like this would create too much noise. Reluctantly, Russell picked up the broom.
"Guess I'm flying."
His flying skills weren't spectacular. It took him quite a while—several near-misses and one embarrassing spin—before he finally seized the correct key.
He couldn't help but wonder how Quirrell had managed it so easily.
---
The room beyond was pitch-black.
But the moment Russell stepped inside, torches blazed to life, revealing a breathtaking sight.
He stood at the edge of a massive chessboard.
In front of him towered enormous black chess pieces, carved from something like obsidian. Across the board stood equally imposing white pieces, their faces smooth and featureless.
Now was not the time for a chess match.
Russell turned around, retrieved the broom from the previous room, and mounted it lazily.
He rose into the air, intending to simply fly over the battlefield.
For a moment, he thought he'd bypassed the trial entirely.
Then—
The white pieces tilted their heads upward in unison.
Though they had no faces, he could feel their attention lock onto him.
The air grew tense.
The white pieces remained silent—but they raised their massive weapons in unison, clearly preparing to hurl them at Russell.
"Professor McGonagall is this ruthless?" he muttered, eyeing the enormous stone armaments. Even with a Shield Charm, he doubted he could withstand more than a few hits.
Grinding his teeth, he kicked the broom into a sudden burst of speed and shot toward the door behind them.
Seeing that he stubbornly intended to bypass the trial, the white pieces showed no mercy. One after another, they hurled their weapons skyward.
Russell weaved frantically through the air. When he truly couldn't dodge, he blasted the incoming projectiles apart mid-flight.
What he hadn't anticipated was that every time a weapon left a statue's hand, a new one slowly re-formed.
Fortunately, the regeneration rate wasn't particularly fast. By sheer agility—and a fair bit of luck—Russell made it across the board unharmed.
Landing before the next door, he turned back.
Though the white chess pieces had no faces, he could clearly sense their fury.
Truly worthy of a Transfiguration master, he thought. Even mass-produced stone constructs possess this level of awareness.
"Still," he said lightly, waving goodbye, "your test has a rather obvious loophole."
With that, he stepped into the next chamber.
---
The following room was completely empty.
So Quirrell hadn't yet placed the troll here. Considering the professor's current half-dead condition, Russell doubted he'd manage to drag another one inside anytime soon.
He crossed the vacant space and entered the next room.
The moment he stepped over the threshold, flames erupted behind him, sealing the entrance. They burned an unnatural purple. At the same time, black fire flared up in front of the opposite doorway.
He was trapped between them.
Russell calmly surveyed the room. On a small table lay a scroll of parchment covered in text.
"A simple logic riddle."
He set the parchment down almost immediately. He had no interest in solving puzzles tonight.
Instead, he picked up the smallest bottle.
Just as he was about to drink it, he paused.
"No point coming all this way for nothing."
With efficient movements, he swept the remaining bottles into his pocket.
Besides, he worried that by the time Harry arrived, they might have expired. Snape had prepared this obstacle rather hastily.
And Russell didn't believe Snape would actually put deadly poison inside. If Harry died here, Snape would have nowhere to cry.
If it were him, he mused, he'd fill every incorrect bottle with a powerful laxative.
He wasn't a saint.
With that thought, he downed the potion.
A chill slid down his throat and settled heavily in his stomach, sharp and icy.
As for the taste—rotten cabbage.
Very on-brand for Snape. His potions were always effective—and utterly revolting.
Russell stepped through the black flames into the final chamber.
---
The room was dimly lit and eerily silent.
At its center stood a tall object draped in a dusty gray cloth.
Russell already had a suspicion.
To confirm it, he approached and pulled the cloth away.
A magnificent mirror stretched nearly to the ceiling. Its ornate golden frame gleamed faintly in the low light, supported by clawed feet. Across the top was engraved a line of strange lettering:
Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.
The Mirror of Erised.
It revealed the deepest desire of one's heart.
Curious, Russell stepped before it.
He wanted to see what lay buried in his own soul.
At first, he simply stared.
In the reflection, two indistinct figures appeared behind him—one male, one female—each resting a hand gently on his shoulders.
Though their faces were blurred, he knew exactly who they were.
His parents from his previous life.
They had passed away long ago. By now, he could barely remember their faces.
Impressive mirror, he thought. It could even reach across lifetimes.
Yet strangely—
He felt nothing.
No surge of longing. No ache.
Perhaps sensing his detachment, the image shifted.
The two blurred figures sharpened into clarity. Their clothing transformed into formal attire.
And then, more figures appeared beside him.
Wednesday. Pugsley. Esmeralda…
The entire Addams family stood at his side.
His family in this life.
Every single one of them.
Russell smiled faintly.
He bent down, picked up the gray cloth, and gently covered the mirror once more.
What he desired—
He already had.
As for mastering alchemy, pursuing immortality…
That dream only mattered if they could walk eternity together.