"To expand their market, Zonko's Joke Shop adjusted the price of their Nose-Biting Teacups, selling them at seventy percent of the original price with a profit margin of twelve percent. If the cost price of a Nose-Biting Teacup is one Galleon, twelve Sickles, and twenty-four Knuts, what was the original selling price?"
His brain spinning frantically, the hooded figure's crimson eyes were about to drip blood, but no matter how desperately hard he thought, his mind remained completely blank.
The prolonged mental torture had already driven him somewhat mad. He didn't even know what he was thinking about anymore.
Who was he? Where was he? Why had he come here in the first place?
After waiting quietly for two agonizing minutes, Ks on the right emanated an aura of magical brilliance, then Sphinx on the left spoke with practiced ease.
"One day, young wizard Jerry went to Diagon Alley..."
Suddenly, Sphinx's voice paused mid-sentence, and the other two also stopped abruptly, as if they had all simultaneously received some urgent information. Then the excitement in their eyes slowly faded, replaced by obvious boredom.
After a two-second pause, Sphinx continued with a completely different question. "He first went to Ollivanders and bought a wand for seven Galleons, then went to Flourish and Blotts and bought textbooks for fifteen Sickles, and finally had a two-Sickle butterbeer at the Leaky Cauldron. How much did he spend in total?"
The hooded figure was obviously stunned after hearing this dramatically simplified question, then his expression showed wild, desperate joy.
He had already given up all hope of getting through here, but he actually knew this one!
As if afraid the other party would suddenly change their mind, the hooded figure shouted loudly. "Eight Galleons!"
"Correct answer." Sphinx said listlessly, shuffling aside to make room, but the magical power within it only decreased slightly.
He had answered wrong far too many times before. Countless instances of accumulated power had built up within it. Just answering correctly once couldn't weaken it back to its normal state.
Finx in the middle took Sphinx's position and spoke equally listlessly. "You have five apples. You gave one to Dad and two to Mom. How many do you have left?"
Hearing those simple words, anger rose in the hooded figure's heart. He clenched his fists and squeezed out a sound through gritted teeth. "Two."
Just wait. Once he got the Philosopher's Stone, once he regained the body that rightfully belonged to him...
Finally, Ks stepped forward. Its voice was completely lifeless, too lazy even to make up a proper problem, and directly said. "What's eight plus eight?"
"Sixteen."
"Pass." Saying this, Ks also moved aside, revealing the door behind it.
As the excitement of answering correctly gradually faded, looking at that door he had dreamed of reaching, the hooded figure suddenly hesitated.
This was too obviously letting him pass.
He didn't know why these three Sphinxes' questions had suddenly become so ridiculously simple. This was very wrong.
Even if they couldn't come up with other questions, even if they just repeated the previous ones, he still couldn't answer them, right?
Was there some conspiracy? Or were they simply unable to think of other riddles?
However, the hesitation only lasted a few seconds before he resolutely stepped forward and pushed open the door.
No matter what conspiracy there was, he was an immortal being. No one could kill him, and no one could imprison him in that state.
But the previous painful experience seemed to still linger in his ears. He didn't want to think anymore, nor did he want to try to see whether he could defeat these three weakened Sphinxes.
He just wanted to hurry forward, step through that door, then take his Philosopher's Stone and quickly leave this troublesome place!
He never wanted to answer any questions again in his life!
Heh, Muggle mathematics. Once he got out, the first thing he'd do was kill all the Muggles who made up these problems!
Kill them all!
With a loud creak, the door was pushed open. This was a small room that looked like it had been hastily partitioned off.
The room was completely empty except for a tall, magnificent mirror standing in the center.
No Philosopher's Stone, no container that looked like it could hold the Philosopher's Stone. Just this mirror. He knew what this was: the Mirror of Erised.
Perhaps it was a Mirror of Erised modified by Dumbledore? But he didn't want to think anymore.
His silence was deafening.
After a long while, his sluggish brain finally began to function again, but he had no other emotions. Only one thought remained in his mind.
Where's my Philosopher's Stone?
I worked so hard to get here, even merging with Quirrell's body, all for the Philosopher's Stone I was supposed to obtain?
My true body, my years of effort, my extraordinary talent, my dream of reaching the pinnacle of magic...
How could I achieve any of this without the Philosopher's Stone?
Without the Philosopher's Stone, this body wouldn't last much longer before dying completely. Then, wouldn't I return to being worse than a ghost, worse than the most humble wandering soul? A shadow imprisoned between life and death?
Without the Philosopher's Stone, what was the point of everything I experienced before, all that time being tormented?
Was it just to provide entertainment for those three Sphinxes?
Looking at that tall, magnificent mirror, seeing himself sitting on the throne of eternal life with the Philosopher's Stone in hand, looking the same as when he was young but surrounded by endless magical radiance, his gaze gradually became distant, then slowly tinged with a strange emotion.
He seemed to understand everything!
The corners of his mouth curved up, forming a grotesque smile. Some low, hoarse laughter echoed in the room, growing louder and more chilling until it was nearly hysterical!
"Hahahahahaha!!"
In the headmaster's office, watching the ugly face laughing with its head thrown back in the crystal ball's image, Evans felt somewhat frightened while involuntarily leaning back in his chair, his eyes filled with pity and sympathy.
By the looks of it, he had probably gone completely insane.
But this was normal.
When he first learned at Christmas that Dumbledore planned to hide the Philosopher's Stone using a modified Mirror of Erised, he had felt his three little companions were somewhat redundant.
Only someone who wanted to find it but not use it could take the Philosopher's Stone out of the mirror. Otherwise, even smashing the mirror would be useless.
Thinking of this condition for obtaining the Philosopher's Stone, Evans couldn't help but purse his lips.
This wasn't a safe. This was practically a containment device!
After giving so many difficult problems, you finally tell people the safe can't be opened at all and the key has been thrown into the sea.
Anyone would go mad!
Not to mention he had been tormented by his three little companions for nearly half an hour beforehand.
Shaking his head, Evans turned to look at Dumbledore. "When can I make my move?"
"Soon, just wait a bit longer." Without shifting his gaze, Dumbledore continued quietly watching the other image.
There, Harry was holding an unremarkable small bottle in his hand. After saying a few words to Hermione beside him, he drained the liquid in the bottle and resolutely walked toward the black flames.