HP: Alchemy? Nah, It's Crafting

"...What is it, Harry? Where is this place?"

Kasenhis appeared before Harry, his face slightly flushed and holding half a glass of wine.

Clearly, his slightly inebriated brain hadn't quite recalled the significance of the Ender Pearl he'd handed over.

Harry, struggling to breathe, weakly pointed in Quirrell's direction.

Kasenhis turned his head and saw Quirrell gripping his wand with trembling hands.

Without a word, Kasenhis drained the rest of his wine, tossed the glass aside, and let it shatter on the ground.

Crash!

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Vanishing Curse!"

The moment the glass broke, chaos erupted.

Without wasting time on pleasantries or even glancing at Harry or Neville, Kasenhis summoned his Enchantment Table. A Vanishing Curse shot forth, instantly canceling out the green glow of Quirrell's Killing Curse.

"Fiendfire!" Quirrell, clearly panicking, reverted to his old tricks. A fiery serpent surged toward Kasenhis, but it was far less intimidating than the one he'd conjured in the Forbidden Forest.

Kasenhis clapped his hands together sharply. In an instant, the entire chamber was filled with shimmering blue Water Source Blocks.

Kasenhis could move freely within the water for precisely fourteen seconds, possibly stretching it to seventeen without dying. But within this brief span, dismantling Quirrell—who was now flailing helplessly and unable to even open his mouth for fear of drowning—was laughably easy.

As for Harry and Neville, who were also submerged in the water: They just gotta live...

In the face of a formidable enemy, there was no room for hesitation. The enemy had to be dealt with first; as long as he pushed himself a little harder, everything could be settled within thirty seconds!

Kasenhis's eyes sharpened, and he hurled four End Crystals toward Quirrell. While the explosions caused limited direct damage underwater, the shockwaves forced Quirrell to swallow quite a bit of water.

Now injured internally from the blast, Quirrell began coughing up blood. The crimson liquid floated through the water like wisps of smoke drifting in the air.

"Here, you'll love this one," Kasenhis muttered.

With that, he summoned the green, square-shaped head of a Creeper and jammed it onto Quirrell's head without further explanation. Then, wielding a pitch-black longsword, he slashed.

Slash! Slash! Slash! Slash!

Four clean strikes reduced Quirrell into a neatly-shaped cylinder. Only then did Kasenhis retract all the water from the room.

Cough, cough! "Professor Kasenhis, where's Quirrell?"

Harry struggled to stand, wiped his face, and asked nervously.

"Over there. Keep your distance. I'll go check on Neville," Kasenhis replied as he noticed Neville unconscious on the ground. Quickly pulling out a sponge, he knelt by Neville and unceremoniously shoved the sponge into Neville's mouth.

Gasp! Gasp! "Ha! Hah!!!"

After the water was drained from his lungs, Neville jolted awake, gasping for air. His wide, frightened eyes stared at the scene before him.

Kasenhis suddenly appeared in Neville's line of sight, gently patting his back and reassuring him, "It's okay now. You're safe."

At the same time, he didn't stop moving. He pulled a small bottle of Dittany from his pocket and began applying it to the wound on Neville's face.

"Harry, how about you? Are you okay?" Kasenhis asked, glancing over.

Harry rubbed his stomach. "I think I'm fine... Ow..."

Kasenhis bent down and picked up Quirrell. "You two should head to Madam Pomfrey. I need to see Dumbledore!"

"Dumbledore isn't at Hogwarts," Neville interjected.

"Then I'll take you to the hospital wing first," Kasenhis decided, waving his hand to make Quirrell's body float behind him. He then scooped up Harry, who was struggling to walk steadily, and carried him horizontally across his arms.

The group, including a floating Creeper-like Quirrell, retraced their steps. Along the way, they encountered Hermione anxiously waiting at the logic puzzle set by Snape.

"I remember the potions here weren't enough for all three of you to pass..." Kasenhis remarked, extinguishing the flames by force as he walked toward the small table holding the potions.

"No, there were three bottles of Fire-Protection Potion," Harry corrected. "A large one, which Quirrell must've drunk, and two smaller ones, which Neville and I used."

"But when Snape set up this challenge, he only left one bottle of potion."

The air fell silent. While the younger students didn't seem to react much, Kasenhis frowned as a vague suspicion began to take shape in his mind.

"Forget it, let's get out first," Kasenhis said, brushing aside his vague suspicions as they continued heading out.

Along the way, he retrieved an unconscious Ron from the giant chessboard. Finally, after building a platform of blocks to get everyone back through the trapdoor into the room with the three-headed dog, he let out a sigh of relief.

And then he saw an old man with a long, white beard, smiling warmly at them.

"Dumbledore, keep an eye on this guy. I'm taking them to the hospital wing," Kasenhis said, handing over the floating Quirrell to the headmaster. With Harry in his left hand, Ron in his right, and Neville and Hermione trailing behind, he made his way to the hospital wing.

Once there, Kasenhis ensured that three-fourths of the quartet were only suffering from physical injuries that could be treated with potions and a good night's rest.

Feeling assured, he finally headed to the headmaster's office.

"Oh, Kasen, you're back. How are they?" Dumbledore asked, looking up from his desk.

"They're fine. Just superficial wounds," Kasenhis replied, glancing at Dumbledore and then at the still form of Quirrell lying in the corner of the office.

"What do you plan to do with this guy?"

"I've already informed the Ministry of Magic. They'll be sending someone over shortly," Dumbledore explained.

"Alright, before that…" Kasenhis said, stepping forward and planting his foot squarely on Quirrell's chest. With one hand, he gripped the Creeper-like helmet that had been jammed onto Quirrell's head and, with a firm yank, pulled it off.

"For your painstaking efforts to steal the Philosopher's Stone, I have to express my deepest admiration. So, let me show you something fun."

Kasenhis reached into Quirrell's pocket and pulled out the fake Philosopher's Stone he had crafted—the upgraded 2.0 version.

"Do you remember this? I made it for you," Kasenhis said, smirking as he twirled the fake Philosopher's Stone 2.0 in his hand.

Dumbledore, sharing in Kasenhis' mischievous mood, reached into the cabinet and retrieved the 1.0 version of the fake stone that had been hidden inside the Mirror of Erised. 

"Look here, both of them are fake. This is the grand result of all your effort."

"Kasenhis, you'll die a miserable death!" Quirrell growled through gritted teeth, his voice filled with venom.

"The reality is," Kasenhis said with a casual shrug, "I'll keep living my life, while you… well, you won't be alive much longer."

Soon after, Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge arrived at the school gates with two Aurors in tow. When they entered the headmaster's office, the two Aurors stationed themselves silently like statues, while Fudge greeted Dumbledore and Kasenhis with a bright, overly friendly smile. It was a stark contrast to his earlier attitude when he had initially met Kasenhis and considered throwing him into Azkaban for a few months to "cool off."

"Two-faced, humph!" Kasenhis muttered under his breath, a hint of pettiness in his tone.

Fudge, still maintaining his polished grin, pretended not to hear and gestured toward the unconscious Quirrell on the floor. "I must say, I never would've imagined that the professor teaching our young wizards Defense Against the Dark Arts for nearly a term would turn out to be a Dark wizard himself. Dumbledore, how could you make such a rookie mistake?"

"Perhaps you should've taken my advice," Fudge continued smugly, "and allowed the Ministry to oversee Hogwarts…"

Before he could finish, Dumbledore interrupted him. "This is not just any ordinary Dark wizard. Take a closer look at the face on the back of his head. That is Voldemort."

Fudge's innocent face suddenly stiffened.

"What did you say, Dumbledore?"

"That's Voldemort."

Fudge shook his head crazily and said: "No, No, No... Dumbledore, I think you have gone insa—ehm—I mean you must be confused. The Dark Lord is dead." 

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