Harry Potter: Toji Potter

The trio of Toji, Hermione, and Daphne stood before the trapdoor, peering down into the dark abyss. Each challenge had been carefully laid to protect the Philosopher's Stone, but they had no intention of backing down. Toji cracked his knuckles, grinning with excitement, while Hermione adjusted her robes nervously. Daphne, calm and collected, rolled her shoulders, ready for what lay ahead.

"Let's get this over with," Toji muttered, stepping forward.

They dropped into the first chamber, only to be greeted by a massive, writhing plant—Devil's Snare. Its tendrils lashed out, sensing their movement. Hermione immediately recognized the danger, her knowledge kicking into gear.

"Devil's Snare!" she shouted. "It hates sunlight!"

Without missing a beat, she cast Lumos Solem, a brilliant flash of light flooding the chamber. The plant recoiled violently, retreating and allowing them to pass.

"Smart," Toji remarked, patting her shoulder. "I was going to punch it."

Hermione smirked. "We don't need to punch everything, Harry."

They moved into the next chamber, where hundreds of winged keys fluttered in the air. A broom was propped against the wall, and a single locked door stood on the other side.

"Catch the right one, unlock the door," Daphne said, her eyes scanning the room. "Too many keys for us to manually search."

Toji raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing. "I'll handle this one."

He dashed forward, jumping onto the broom in one fluid motion. His speed on the broom was astounding, moving faster than the enchanted keys could keep up. In a mere second, he spotted the right key, snatched it out of the air, and flew back to the ground, all before Hermione and Daphne could blink.

He tossed the key to Daphne, who unlocked the door with ease. "That was fast," Daphne muttered, impressed.

"Quicker we get through this, quicker we get to the fun part," Toji grinned.

The next room was the chessboard. The life-sized pieces stood in position, waiting for players to take their place.

Toji glanced at the massive chessboard, then back at Daphne and Hermione. "We could always just blow this thing up and move on, right?"

But Daphne, an avid chess player, shook her head. "Absolutely not. This is my time to shine. You two can wait."

Hermione and Toji exchanged glances, shrugging in unison. "Your game," Toji said, stepping back. "Have fun."

Daphne took her place on the board, directing the pieces with precision. Her eyes gleamed with excitement as she called out commands, leading the white side into battle. It wasn't long before she checkmated the king, her final move carried out with a cool, calculating smile.

"Harry, next time," Daphne said, turning to him, "you can blow things up. But only after I've had my fun."

The door to the next chamber opened, and they entered the Potion Room. A long table held several vials of varying colors, each labeled with a cryptic riddle.

"Logical puzzle," Hermione muttered as she scanned the vials. Her eyes darted across the labels, and after a moment of thought, she picked up the correct vial with a satisfied grin.

"You two go ahead," Hermione said, stepping back. "I'll stay behind in case someone tries to follow us."

Toji nodded. "We'll take care of the rest."

He and Daphne pushed forward into the final chamber, and there it was—the Mirror of Erised. But they weren't alone. Standing before the mirror, muttering to himself, was Professor Quirrell.

Toji had a flash of recognition. This scene had played out in his memories before. He already knew what was about to happen, so he decided to take a more… direct approach.

As Quirrell turned to face him, stuttering some excuse, Toji lunged forward with blinding speed, gut-punching him hard enough to send him flying across the chamber. Quirrell gasped, clutching his stomach, his turban flying off to reveal a grotesque face on the back of his head—Voldemort.

"W-What…?!" Quirrell wheezed, stunned and disoriented. The dark figure of Voldemort snarled in fury as Toji casually walked over and picked up the discarded turban, examining it with a raised eyebrow.

Toji chuckled, spinning the turban around in his hands. "Nice hat. Shame it didn't cover up that bald head of yours."

Quirrell sat on the floor, dejected and drawing circles in the dust with his finger. There was a comical air of depression around him, like a schoolboy who'd just been embarrassed in front of his classmates. Voldemort, from his grotesque position on Quirrell's head, seemed to sigh, his voice an eerie whisper.

"It's… alright, Quirrell. We'll find another way…"

The bizarre and almost humorous moment was shattered as Voldemort seized full control of Quirrell's body, rising to his feet. His red eyes gleamed with malice as he faced Toji.

"No more games, boy. Let's see if you're truly worthy of the title 'Boy Who Lived.'"

A duel erupted between the two—Toji and Voldemort. Spells flashed through the air, curses and counters flying back and forth with incredible speed. Voldemort, weakened as he was, still showed remarkable skill, his attacks filled with lethal precision. But Toji was faster, more tactical, more unpredictable. He dodged and deflected each spell with ease, his body a blur of motion.

In a dazzling display of transfiguration, Toji transformed the surrounding rubble into a thick, swirling mist. Voldemort's vision was obscured, his senses dulled.

"Where are you, Potter?!" Voldemort hissed, his voice filled with rage.

Toji reappeared behind him, his fist crashing into Voldemort's back with bone-shattering force. The dark lord's temporary vessel, Quirrell, crumbled under the sheer power, and Toji didn't stop—punch after punch landed until Voldemort's weakened form was utterly destroyed. Dust and ash filled the air as Voldemort's essence dissipated, unable to maintain its grip on the mortal world any longer.

As Voldemort's final scream echoed and faded, Toji waved nonchalantly, a huge grin on his face, his eyes shut with joy. "Bye-bye, Voldi! I'll play with you next time."

Voldemort's spirit, filled with fury, swirled in the air for a moment before vanishing completely, leaving behind only silence. But his last words echoed in Toji's mind—a furious vow to return and kill him one day.

Daphne walked over, watching Toji dust off his robes. "You really know how to make enemies."

Toji chuckled. "It's a gift of mine."

As the night came to an end, Toji, Daphne, and Hermione made their way back to their dorms, the Philosopher's Stone safe and their mission complete. Toji couldn't help but think of the excitement, the thrill of the fight. His grin grew wider. The Forbidden Forest, the challenges, even Voldemort—it was all so alive.

But as he crawled into bed that night, he couldn't shake the thought that there were still more fights out there, more challenges to face. He dreamed of those moments, and in his dreams, he hoped that next time would be even more fun.

For now, though, it was time to rest. Tomorrow would bring new excitement, new opportunities—and Toji would be ready for them.