Harry Potter's : Fantastic Beasts Guide

David leaned against the uneven stone wall, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. He had downed the restorative potion six times, and by now, the bitter taste didn't even register. He closed his eyes, exhaustion washing over him. Professor Flitwick had promised that the training wouldn't be too harsh. Yet, as David's aching muscles could attest, the professor's idea of "not too harsh" was borderline sadistic.

"Mr. Scamander, you can take off the armor now," Professor Flitwick's voice broke the silence, gentle but firm.

David cracked one eye open. "No more testing?"

"No, that's enough for today," Flitwick replied, glancing at his pocket watch with a peculiar expression.

David's eyebrows knitted together. "You dragged me here just to test some equipment?"

Flitwick's eyes widened, feigning innocence. "Of course! Why else would I—" He trailed off, suddenly fascinated by a crack in the stone wall.

David smirked. It was obvious Flitwick was stalling. But why? "Right... Well, if you don't need me, I'll be off then," he said, feigning nonchalance.

He leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes once more. Whatever Flitwick was waiting for, it was clearly important enough to keep him around. David knew the professor would eventually spill the beans. In the meantime, he could use a nap.

Just as David was beginning to drift off, he felt a firm shake on his shoulder. He opened his eyes to see Professor Flitwick holding a small box, his expression grave.

"Professor? What's that?" David asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Dumbledore asked me to give this to you," Flitwick replied, his voice low.

David's heart skipped a beat. He opened the box and found a bottle of potion and a note written in Dumbledore's distinct handwriting. He quickly read through the message:

David, Harry and the others have entered the trial for the Sorcerer's Stone. The potion in the box will allow you to pass through the black flames guarding the final chamber.

You must hurry. They should just be entering the last room.

But remember—if Harry can face Voldemort alone, do not interfere!

Tell no one about this, not even Professor Flitwick.

— Albus Dumbledore

P.S. The magic of love protects Harry. Voldemort will be harmed if he touches him.

David's hands trembled as he crushed the note into his pocket. He looked up at Professor Flitwick, who was studying him with curious eyes. "What did the note say?"

"It's... a task from Professor Dumbledore. Something I need to do alone." David forced his voice to sound steady.

Flitwick's face softened. "Do you need my help?"

David shook his head. "No, Professor. It's a test—a test of everything you've taught me."

Flitwick's eyes gleamed with pride. "Then go. And good luck."

David bolted from the room, sprinting through the castle corridors, his heart racing. He threw on his invisibility charm as he rounded a corner, narrowly avoiding Filch. He moved quickly and quietly, slipping into the room where Fluffy, the three-headed dog, guarded the trapdoor.

Fluffy was growling, pacing nervously before the open trapdoor, a harp lying nearby. The creature's eyes locked onto David, but its growls softened as it recognized his scent.

"Good boy," David whispered, patting one of the giant heads. "They got past you, huh? Don't worry, Dumbledore won't be mad. I'll take care of it."

Fluffy whimpered, stepping aside to reveal the trapdoor. David nodded his thanks and jumped down, landing amidst the Devil's Snare. The tendrils tightened around him, but he calmly waved his wand, summoning a burst of flames. The plant recoiled instantly, allowing him to slip through.

He navigated the dark corridor and reached the room of flying keys. Brooms lay discarded on the floor, and above, a flurry of winged keys flitted about. David's eyes narrowed, picking out the key with a broken wing—it flew slower than the rest, clearly the one Harry and the others had caught.

"No time for games," David muttered, pointing his wand. "Accio key!"

The key flew into his hand, and he unlocked the door, racing onward to the giant chessboard. Shattered pieces lay strewn across the floor, remnants of the fierce battle Ron must have led. David spotted a small figure sprawled amidst the rubble.

"Ron!"

He hurried over, his wand glowing with soft, golden light as he knelt beside the unconscious boy. David channeled the healing magic he'd learned from unicorns, and Ron's eyes fluttered open, his face pale and confused.

"Wha—David? Where am I?"

"You're safe. Harry went on to face the last challenge. You and Hermione need to get back to the castle," David instructed, helping him sit up.

"David!"

David turned to see Hermione, her face pale with worry. She rushed over, throwing her arms around him. "Harry went on alone. He thinks Snape is after the Stone!"

David's jaw tightened. "Snape... or someone more dangerous."

Hermione's eyes widened. "You don't mean...?"

David's expression darkened. "Voldemort. He's after the Stone, and he's using someone to get it. I have to go help Harry."

"But the potion! There was only enough for one person to pass through the black flames!" Hermione's voice wavered with fear.

David pulled out the bottle Dumbledore had given him. "I've got this. Dumbledore planned for everything."

Hermione's eyes brimmed with tears. "Be careful, David."

He gave her a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine. Get Ron out of here. Fly back to the castle and find Dumbledore."

Hermione nodded, determination replacing her fear. "You'd better come back, Scamander."

"I always do." With one last glance at his friends, David turned and dashed through the door, his heart pounding as he raced to face his destiny.

He was ready for the final trial.