𝔞 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔠𝔥; 𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔶 𝔭𝔬𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯

xiv. the last petal.

A PUTRID STENCH assaulted their nostrils, thick and acrid, forcing both of them to tug their robes up over their faces in a desperate attempt to block the horrific odour. Tears sprang to their eyes as they squinted against the overwhelming scent. On the grimy floor in front of them lay an enormous troll, significantly larger than the one they had previously encountered. It was sprawled out, unconscious, with a gruesome, swollen bruise marring its forehead, a vivid testament to some unseen confrontation.

"I'm grateful we didn't have to take on that beast," Harry murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as they carefully manoeuvred around one of its massive, gnarled legs. "Let's hurry—this smell is unbearable."

"I really wish I had a mask or something," Emmalina grumbled, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

Gathering his resolve, Harry yanked open the next door, both of them bracing themselves for whatever might lie beyond. As they stepped inside, their apprehension slowly dissipated; the room before them was devoid of the terrifying creatures they had expected. Instead, they found a simple wooden table, upon which sat seven uniquely shaped glass bottles, each lined up in an orderly fashion, glinting in the dim light like trapped stars.

"Snape's work," Harry identified, scanning the bottles with a mix of curiosity and trepidation. "What are we supposed to do with them?"

With determination, they stepped fully into the room, but suddenly a vivid purple fire blazed to life behind them, flickering ominously as the temperature in the room surged. Almost simultaneously, a wall of black flames erupted in the doorway ahead, sealing their escape. They were trapped, surrounded by the unpredictable and threatening magic that swirled in the air around them.

Emmalina's heart raced, and a choking panic constricted her chest as fear began to set in.

"Look!" Hermione exclaimed suddenly, her voice sharp with urgency as she snatched up a roll of parchment that lay precariously close to the bottles. Emmalina turned to see what her friend had discovered, leaning in to read the contents of the scroll over Hermione's shoulder;

Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind you,
Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,
One among us seven will let you move ahead,

Another will transport the drinker back instead,
Two among our number hold only nettle wine,
Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line.
Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,

To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:
First, however slyly the poison tries to hide
You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;
Second, different are those who stand at either end,
But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;
Third, as you see clearly, all are different sizes,
Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;
Fourth, the second is on the left, and the second is on the right.

Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.

Emmalina was quite amazed to see Hermione smiling, the last thing she had in mind to do.

"Brilliant," said Hermione. "This isn't magic — it's logic — a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck in here forever."

"But so will we, won't we?" Harry questioned anxiously.

"Of course not," said Hermione. "Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire, and one will get us back through the purple."