[Third Person Pov]
"Weeeeeee!" Arthur cried at the top of his lungs as he plunged downward through the endless darkness, his voice echoing wildly off unseen stone walls. Beside him, Sylvia let out an equally thrilled squeal, clinging tightly as they fell. If Arthur wasn't even a little scared of the drop, then why on earth should she be?
The fall ended suddenly with a loud flump, Arthur landing squarely atop a massive, springy plant bush. The foliage groaned and rustled beneath him but held firm, its thick leaves and coiling vines more than large—and soft—enough to catch him and several others if necessary.
"Arthur! Is it safe to drop?!" Gwyneth's voice echoed down from the opening above, laced with urgency.
"Yes!" Arthur called back, lifting himself slightly as Sylvia climbed back onto his shoulders. "There's something soft to land on! You can all jump!"
Gwyneth and Lance didn't need to be told twice. The moment Arthur confirmed it, they leapt without hesitation, vanishing from sight before reappearing a second later as they dropped through the darkness. They landed on either side of Arthur with soft, bouncing impacts, leaves and vines rustling as the plant absorbed them with a muffled ooof from each.
Gwyneth giggled, brushing leaves out of her hair as she patted the plant beneath her affectionately. "Thank you for catching us, Mr. Plant, hehehe."
Before Arthur could respond, Merlin came down without any warning at all. Arthur glanced up just in time to see her falling straight toward him. Instinctively, he threw his arms out and caught her mid-drop, though the impact forced the breath from his lungs.
"Got you," Arthur groaned faintly, wincing as the plant beneath them compressed further.
"Oh my," Merlin giggled, clearly unbothered. A mischievous smirk spread across her face as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Thank you, my vigilante knight," she teased, planting a playful kiss on his cheek.
Arthur turned toward her theatrically, striking an exaggerated Prince Charming pose and flashing an overdramatic smile. "But of course, my dear."
Merlin snorted and burst into laughter just as Harry, Ron, and Hermione dropped down one after another, landing in a scattered heap around them amid a chorus of rustling leaves and startled yelps.
Gwyneth and Lance exchanged a quiet sideways glance but said nothing, wisely choosing to stay quiet.
"We must be miles under the school," Hermione said, her voice tense as she looked around the shadowy chamber.
"Lucky this plant thing's here, really," Ron muttered.
"Lucky?!" Hermione shrieked. "Look at everyone!"
She scrambled free more easily than the rest, having landed last and avoided the worst of the plant's grasp. Around them, thick vines began tightening, coiling around arms, legs, and torsos, pinning everyone in place with surprising strength. The plant seemed almost alive—reactive—its movements deliberate, ensuring no one could escape.
Panicking, Ron, Harry, and the others began twisting and struggling, which only caused the vines to tighten further.
"Stop moving!" Hermione shouted. "I know what this is—it's Devil's Snare!"
"Oh, I'm so glad we know what it's called," Ron snarled as he leaned back, desperately trying to keep a vine from curling around his neck. "That's a great help."
"Shut up, I'm trying to remember how to kill it!" Hermione snapped.
"Oh Juliette, it seems we are forever fated to die together in this dungeon!" Arthur cried dramatically, clutching Merlin as though they were doomed lovers in a tragic play.
Merlin immediately matched his theatrics, leaning back against him and draping the back of her hand across her forehead. "Oh Romeo! Why must it be so!" she wailed, stretching her legs out and tossing her head back as the vines continued tightening around them.
"Would you two knobheads quit it?!" Ron snapped, staring at them in utter disbelief. "You're acting like this isn't a life-or-death situation! You have something to kill it, right?!"
"No!" Gwyneth cried suddenly. "Don't kill it—leave it to me! There's no need to hurt it!"
Everyone turned toward her just as a thick vine wrapped more tightly around her torso. Calm despite the situation, she began rummaging around as if searching for something, hands disappearing into the dense foliage.
"Almost there… aha! Here we go!"
"Hurry!" Harry choked, a vine pressing tight around his chest.
Gwyneth leaned forward and, without warning, began tickling the plant.
"Coochie coochie coo, coochie coochie coo!"
Everyone froze.
Ron opened his mouth to protest. "We're all going to die! We've got two idiots with no sense of danger and now she's tickling the bloody—"
He stopped mid-sentence, eyes going wide as the leaves of the Devil's Snare began to ruffle together. The vines squirmed, shuddered—and then, impossibly, let out a soft, musical giggling sound.
Slowly, almost lazily, the thick coils slackened around them. The pressure eased as the plant seemed to lose strength from laughing, its grip loosening until everyone could finally breathe again.
Gwyneth giggled, crouching down and cooing at the retreating plant much the same way Arthur did whenever he encountered magical creatures. "You're a ticklish little fella, aren't you? Yes you are, yes you certainly are," she said warmly, giving the vine one last playful poke. "What a lovely laugh you have."
By the time everyone was fully free, the Devil's Snare had completely withdrawn, shrinking back into itself and slithering away into the shadows like a chastened animal. The tension drained from the room as abruptly as it had come, replaced instead by stunned silence.
Every pair of eyes slowly turned toward Gwyneth.
She straightened up, brushing stray strands of hair from her face, still smiling faintly as if what she'd just done hadn't been utterly absurd—and miraculous. Hermione stared at her, mouth opening and closing as she tried to form words.
"How…" Hermione finally managed.
Gwyneth tilted her nose toward the ceiling and puffed out her chest proudly. "There's no one who knows more about magical plants than I do," she declared with unmistakable confidence. "It's an art I pride myself in."
Arthur, Merlin, and Lance immediately began clapping, Arthur even letting out a low whistle of approval.
"Everyone knows," Gwyneth continued in a haughty, lecturing tone, "that the proper way to escape the grip of a Devil's Snare once it has hold of you is to tickle its stem—specifically where it's most sensitive."
When she glanced back down, ready to bask in further admiration, she found that everyone was already walking away.
"So anyway," Arthur said casually, already moving ahead, "shall we continue?"
"Hey!" Gwyneth yelped, scrambling after them. "Don't leave me behind!"
The corridor beyond was narrow and damp, the stone walls slick with moisture. The only sounds accompanying their footsteps were the soft echoes of shoes against stone and the gentle drip of water trickling down from somewhere above. The passage sloped steadily downward, and Harry couldn't help but be reminded of the long, rattling descent into Gringotts.
"Can you hear something?" Ron whispered.
They all slowed, straining their ears. Somewhere ahead came a faint rustling, accompanied by a delicate clinking sound, like metal brushing against stone.
"Do you think it's a g-ghost?" Gwyneth whispered, shivering as she latched onto Lance's arm.
Lance glanced down at her with a puzzled look. "The castle is filled with ghosts. Why are you frightened now?"
"Yeah, but those are tamed ghosts," Gwyneth shot back defensively. "What if these aren't? You don't know what's down here."
"I don't know…" Hermione murmured, tilting her head as she listened more carefully. "It sounds like wings to me."
They reached the end of the passageway and emerged into a vast, brilliantly lit chamber. Its ceiling arched high overhead, glowing softly as hundreds of small, jewel-bright birds fluttered and darted through the air. Their wings glittered like gemstones as they tumbled and swooped in chaotic patterns.
On the far side of the room stood a heavy wooden door reinforced with iron bands.
"Careful," Arthur warned quietly. "They'll attack if we try to cross to the door."
"I was just about to ask…" Ron muttered, staring up at the swarm uneasily.
"Wait," Lance said suddenly, squinting. "Are those keys?"
Everyone looked closer. Sure enough, the birds weren't birds at all—they were winged pkeys, metallic bodies glinting beneath colorful wings.
"From the looks of it," Lance continued, "if we want to get to the next room, we'll need to find the correct one and retrieve it."
Harry scanned the swarm intently. His eyes locked onto a large silver key with bright blue wings, one of which was bent and crumpled.
"That one!" he said urgently. "The big one—there! See it? The wings are damaged. Someone's used it before, which means it has to be the right key."
"Now how do we get it?" Hermione wondered aloud.
"Leave it to me," Lance said, stepping forward confidently. He reached for his wand with the smooth motion of someone drawing a sword.
Everyone fell silent, watching curiously as Lance took center stage.
He held his wand aloft like a conductor preparing an orchestra. The tip flared with light as magic sparked and bloomed outward. A glowing magic circle formed in the tip of his wand before him—clean, precise, and perfectly stable.
Arthur's eyes widened slightly.
'He can conjure magic circles with just his wand?' Arthur thought, impressed. As the creator of the system itself, he knew exactly how difficult it was to transition from auxiliary tools like chalk or enchanted ink to pure wand-based casting.
Merlin watched just as closely, her expression thoughtful.
'He is her son,' she mused. 'That would explain why his development is so far ahead.'
Lance closed his eyes briefly and spoke with calm clarity. "Tier two magic: Capture Bubbles."
With a sharp flick of his wrist, the magic circle pulsed. A wave of shimmering bubbles burst forth, floating upward under Lance's precise control. They drifted toward the ceiling, surrounding the keys one by one. Each bubble swallowed a key whole, trapping it gently inside.
Soon every winged key was contained, suspended harmlessly in the air.
Lance opened his eyes, pointed his wand at the damaged silver key, and beckoned it forward with a subtle motion. The bubble drifted down and popped softly, depositing the key neatly into his hand.
He turned back to the group, presenting it with a faint, satisfied smirk.
"Key secured."
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