[Note: Read up to Chapter - 190 on P patron at: p-atreon.com/Knockturn_Alley]
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"How about we take a closer look?"
Harry glanced at Ronald and Hermione, then quickly added, "Just a peek, yeah? If nothing looks off, we leg it straight away…"
"But what if someone really has gone in?" Ronald muttered, his face sinking.
"Then we've no choice, have we?" Harry drew in a deep breath and started edging towards the heavy door at the end of the corridor.
"I hope this isn't as bad as it looks…" Hermione whispered, clutching her robes tighter as she followed close behind.
The thought of coming face-to-face with that three-headed beast again made her stomach twist with nerves.
And in that moment, she couldn't help but think of Aris.
If he were here… maybe she wouldn't be half as rattled.
After all, she'd never once seen Aris lose his nerve.
The little witch shook her head, pushed the thoughts aside, and forced herself to focus on what lay ahead.
"Oi—did you hear that?"
Harry suddenly stopped dead, ears straining. After a moment of listening, he quickened his pace, wand already in hand and aimed at the heavy door ahead.
"I swear there's music coming from behind that door!" he whispered, picking up speed.
"Alohomora!"
With a faint click, the wooden door concealing the monstrous three-headed dog swung open.
The three of them slipped inside at once.
"I've always wondered what the point of this door was…" Ronald muttered, blurting out something completely irrelevant to the situation.
"Maybe it's there just because a castle's meant to have a door there…" Hermione replied absently, still half-dazed by nerves.
"It's the music!" Harry cut in, the only one keeping his head. His eyes flicked straight to the slumbering bulk of the three-headed hound sprawled across the floor—already fast asleep. Then, his gaze shifted to the organ in the corner, playing on its own as if bewitched.
Someone had clearly set this up!
Which could only mean one thing—someone had already slipped past the three-headed beast and into the secret chamber.
"The worst's come true…" Hermione muttered, frowning deeply.
"D'you reckon we… go down now?" Ronald asked nervously, glancing at Harry.
Harry didn't answer. Instead, he strode forward, shoving against one of the dog's massive paws. The beast's limb was covering a loose wooden trapdoor—and beneath it lay the passage to the chamber where the Philosopher's Stone was hidden.
His eyes burned with grim resolve.
"Dumbledore and Aris aren't even in the castle. Someone's gone down there already—someone after the Stone. We've got to stop them!"
"Otherwise, if Voldemort gets himself resurrected through the Stone… the whole wizarding world'll be in danger!"
"The same sort of nightmare as before could happen all over again!"
"But we're just first-years…" Ronald's voice cracked; he looked about ready to bawl.
"We don't have a choice, do we?" Harry grunted, heaving the three-headed dog's paw just enough to wrench open the trapdoor.
He pushed the wooden trapdoor open, then turned to Ronald and Hermione with a hard look.
"You don't need to come down with me," he said quietly. "This is my fight. Voldemort's life or death is my business — he murdered my parents, and I have to pay him back."
"There might not be another chance. He's proper weak right now — desperate enough to be sucking unicorn blood to cling on. If we go down now, there's a slim chance we can stop him. If he gets the Philosopher's Stone and regains his strength… well, then maybe only Dumbledore could stand a chance."
"Do you see what I mean?"
"Harry, stop talking!" Ronald cut in, drawing a deep breath. His face set; his voice was suddenly steady. "I'm coming with you."
"You always need a hand, don't you?" Harry replied, half a grin, half grim. Then the two of them turned to Hermione.
"If I don't go, are you sure you can reach the one who's down there?" Hermione asked, frowning but resolute. "Doesn't it feel… wrong somehow?"
"Huh?" Harry and Ronald froze, staring at Hermione.
"It's a bit too quiet…" she muttered, glancing back at the organ. Then her face drained of colour. "The music— it's stopped!"
Before they could react, Ronald let out a horrified yell.
"What in Merlin's name—ugh, that's disgusting!"
He grabbed his shoulder and felt something warm and slimy oozing down his robes — thick, sticky, and reeking.
"Roarrrr!"
A bone-shaking growl thundered from above.
"Ahhh!" all three of them shrieked at once.
The sight before them froze their blood.
The three-headed hellhound had woken without their noticing. Now it loomed high above, glaring down at them. The slime on Ronald's shoulder wasn't just filth — it was the beast's drool.
Each massive head lowered, eyes blazing with fury, and with a sickening creak of jaws, its three gaping maws split open to bare rows of blood-stained fangs.
"Jump!" Harry barked, and without a moment's hesitation he flung himself through the trapdoor.
Hermione followed sharpish, skirts flying, and Ronald tumbled after them, heart hammering.
As he dropped, Ronald swore he felt the scorch of hot breath chasing him down, and the roar behind was so loud it nearly split his eardrums.
By sheer luck, the narrow trapdoor held the beast's hulking heads back, sparing him from having his backside chewed clean off.
"Blimey… that was close. Another second and we'd have been dog's dinner," Ronald panted.
"At least we've landed on something soft—saved us a right nasty fall…" Harry muttered, though his eyes were darting round warily.
They found themselves in a pitch-dark cavern beneath the castle, the stone walls dripping faintly. The floor was covered in some sort of thick, spongy plants. At first touch, it was wet and slick, like the slimy hide of some sea creature.
Ronald shifted uneasily. "I've got a bad feeling about this…"
Ronald's voice piped up again, trembling as he prodded at the slick, spongy stuff beneath him.
"This… this isn't right. Feels all slimy and flat—"
Hermione's gasp cut him off. "Devil's Snare! It's not a mat at all, it's a murderous plant! If you don't know how to get free, it'll strangle you till you're dead!"
"Oh, bloody hell…" Ronald all but whimpered. "I haven't the faintest how to fight this thing—are we about to die here?"
As if on cue, the plant stirred to life. The coils beneath them writhed and slithered, lashing round their arms and legs. In seconds, the creeping tendrils were curling tighter, winding up their bodies inch by inch, squeezing the breath out of them.
Pinned and thrashing helplessly, the three had no footing, no leverage, nothing to fight back with.
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Drop Power Stonessssssssss!
[Note: Read up to Chapter - 190 on P patron at: p-atreon.com/Knockturn_Alley]