[Third Person Pov]
"Why are you surprised?" Lance questioned, one brow lifting as he leaned back slightly. He casually twirled the set of keys around his finger, the faint metallic clink echoing in the chamber. After a moment, his expression tightened into a small frown. "Don't tell me you didn't take my declaration seriously?"
"Declaration? What declaration?" Gwyneth asked, her eyes flicking between Lance and Arthur. Curiosity brightened her face when she noticed Arthur's lips slowly curl upward into an unmistakable grin.
Lance didn't bother looking at anyone else. His gaze stayed firmly locked on Arthur as he spoke, his tone steady and deliberate. "I told you once before—you're someone I acknowledge as my rival. I know you might not have taken it seriously, especially given the difference in our skill at the time, but I did."
"Ooh, I remember now! I was there!" Gwyneth suddenly exclaimed, snapping her fingers as the memory clicked into place.
Arthur lifted his head fully now, smirking as confidence radiated from him. "I remember it well, don't worry," he said lightly. "I'm just… a little surprised at how far you've come."
Lance's lips curved into a matching smirk. "It helps to have a rival to aspire toward," he replied. "I knew your magic system was going to be important, so I trained harder—far beyond the lessons you and Mer-lynn gave me. I studied the books you published over and over in my dorm, memorized every detail, every theory. And when no one was watching, I practiced. Again. And again."
He slid his wand back into place at his belt with a practiced motion. "What you saw back there was just the result of all that extra work. So don't forget—I'm right on your tail. And if you're not careful, one day I will surpass you."
Arthur burst out laughing, but there wasn't even a trace of mockery in it. If anything, it sounded impressed. "Dude, you're so freaking awesome!" He brushed his hair back from his face, his eyes shining like polished jewels as he grinned broadly. "Looks like I'll have to take you a lot more seriously now. You brought this upon yourself."
"I expect nothing less than your best," Lance replied, returning the grin with quiet confidence.
"If you boys are done with your little bromance moment," Merlin cut in flatly, his expression perfectly neutral, "can we continue forward?"
"I agree," Harry added with a weary sigh. "We're wasting time."
"Apologies," Lance said, suddenly a little embarrassed. He stepped forward and inserted the key into the door.
It slid in perfectly.
The door swung open to reveal a chamber so dark they couldn't see a thing. But the moment they stepped inside, light flooded the room all at once, illuminating an astonishing sight.
They were standing at the edge of an enormous chessboard. Behind them loomed the black chessmen—towering figures carved from what looked like polished black stone, each one far taller than any of them. Across the chamber, at the opposite end, stood the white pieces, just as massive and imposing.
Behind the white army, barely visible in the distance, was another door.
"Now what do we do?" Harry whispered.
"It's obvious, isn't it?" Ron said quietly. "We've got to play our way across the room."
"How?" Hermione asked nervously, her eyes darting from piece to piece.
"I think," Ron said slowly, "we're going to have to be chessmen." He stepped forward and placed his hand against the flank of a black knight's horse.
At once, the stone came alive. The horse pawed the ground with a heavy scrape, and the knight turned its helmeted head, staring straight down at Ron.
"Do we—er—have to join you to get across?" Ron asked.
The knight nodded.
Ron turned back to the group, rubbing his chin. "This needs thinking about…" After a moment, he added, "I suppose we've got to take the place of seven of the black pieces."
Everyone stayed silent as Ron began to think in earnest. Finally, he spoke again. "I've only ever seen either Lance or Arthur play chess," he admitted. "So… what do you guys think?"
Arthur smiled faintly, seeing the careful consideration in Ron's expression. "We'll leave it to you," he said. "I trust your judgment."
Lance nodded in agreement. "If Arthur trusts you, so will I."
"Thank you," Ron said with a small nod. "Alright—Hermione, you'll take the tower. Lance and I will be the knights. Harry and Mer-lynn, you'll be the bishops. Arthur and Gwyneth…"
He paused, thinking carefully before finishing, "…you'll be the King and Queen, respectively."
Arthur stared at him for a moment in surprise—then laughed. "Hahaha! Mind telling me why you picked those roles for us?"
Ron thought it over, then shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted honestly. "Nothing else just felt right."
Arthur and Merlin both chuckled softly, exchanging an amused, knowing look that spoke of shared understanding. Gwyneth, meanwhile, lifted her chin proudly and flicked her hair back over her shoulder with practiced elegance.
"You certainly have good taste," she declared with mock haughtiness, her voice rich with theatrical pride.
They all complied with Ron's instructions, stepping into position as the black pieces while Ron calmly assumed command of the board. Since they were playing black, the white side moved first, and the massive stone pieces began to grind into motion.
Merlin watched Ron closely throughout the match. Her sharp eyes followed every decision he made—how he directed each piece with confidence, how his posture stiffened as the pressure mounted. She noticed the way his expression hardened, his teeth catching his lower lip as he made the difficult call to send Lance forward, knowingly sacrificing him for the sake of positioning.
From his place on the board, Arthur reacted instantly. He thrust a hand toward Lance, summoning a shimmering magical barrier just in time. The white piece struck, and Lance's horse shattered into fragments of stone—but Lance himself remained unharmed within the protective field.
Ron let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding when he saw that Lance was safe. As Lance moved to the side of the board as a captured piece, Ron straightened, renewed confidence settling into his shoulders. Knowing his friend was unharmed made his commands firmer, more decisive.
'He reminds me of a legion commander,' Merlin thought, a pleased smile touching her lips. 'He has potential. With proper training, he would make a formidable knight—one that Arthur could make great use off.'
Unaware that he was being silently evaluated and praised by Merlin the Wise herself, Ron pressed on, issuing orders as the battle escalated. One by one, pieces were taken from both sides of the board.
When Merlin's piece captured a pawn, she obliterated it with a precise blast of magic, reducing it to dust in an instant. Their opponents showed no mercy either—each fallen piece shattered without hesitation, the echoes of stone breaking ringing through the chamber.
Arthur watched it all with a small, satisfied smile. Everything unfolded exactly as Ron had planned. And then came the final move.
With resolve etched into his face, Ron sacrificed himself, opening the path Hermione needed to capture the white Queen.
At the last possible second, Merlin wrapped Ron in a powerful protective charm, shielding him from harm as the winning move was made.
The chessmen froze. Then, slowly, they stepped aside and bowed, clearing the path to the door ahead.
"Sorry…" Ron said quietly, looking apologetically toward Lance.
"It's cool," Lance replied easily. "It's chess—sacrifices happen. As long as you won the game, I honestly don't care." He gave Ron a reassuring pat on the back. "Besides, thanks to Arthur's spell, I'm completely uninjured."
"Wow… as I live and breathe," Arthur said, staring at Ron in open amazement.
"What?" Ron asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
"Ronald Weasley apologizing to a Slytherin," Arthur said solemnly. He mimed removing an imaginary hat and held it to his chest. "I never thought I'd see the day. I tip my hat to you, good sir."
"Oh, come off it," Ron grumbled, already marching toward the next chamber as the others laughed and followed.
A foul, overpowering stench hit them almost immediately. Everyone instinctively pulled their shirts up over their noses. Gwyneth gagged outright, her face twisting in disgust.
Arthur's eyes widened as he took in what awaited them.
Not one troll—but two.
"Well then," Arthur said calmly, nudging Harry forward. "You're up, Harry."
"Pardon?!" Harry squeaked, his voice climbing several octaves.
"I handled Fluffy, Gwyneth dealt with the Devil's Snare, Lance did the keys, Ron conquered the chessboard," Arthur recounted, ticking each off on his fingers. "That means it's your turn. After that, it'd be either Merlin or Hermione."
"You are seriously expecting me to fight not one—but two trolls?!" Harry exclaimed, panic clear in his voice.
Arthur burst out laughing. "Relax, I'm messing with you. I'll handle it." His tone sharpened slightly. "But none of you are allowed to interfere."
With calm confidence, Arthur stepped forward. He reached to his chest as the sword-shaped pendant there began to glow, its surface shimmering with ancient magic.
He tore it free, and as it left his grasp, it expanded—metal stretching and solidifying until Caliburn rested fully formed in his hand. Arthur rolled up his sleeves as he drew the blade, then casually tossed the scabbard over his shoulder toward Merlin, who caught it effortlessly with one hand.
Arthur extended his free hand to the side. A glowing magic circle flared into existence, and from it emerged the pommel of another sword—Merlin's duplication spell in action.
He grasped it and pulled, drawing forth a second Caliburn. With both blades in hand, Arthur settled into a combat stance. He glanced toward Sylvia perched on his shoulder and motioned for her to retreat. She complied instantly, fluttering back out of harm's way.
Arthur's eyes flared with magic as he enhanced his senses.
"Hello, test subjects," he said pleasantly, his voice carrying an edge of danger. "I've been looking for someone to try out my new spells on. Thank you for volunteering—unwillingly."
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