Neville turned to Harry and mouthed a silent wow.
Harry only snorted and followed his friend into the darkness beyond.
Fluffy was snoring thunderously just inside the threshold.
In the far corner an enchanted harp played a soft, repetitive melody that had clearly lulled the great beast into sleep.
Harry pointed toward the open trapdoor near one massive paw, and the three of them edged carefully across the room.
“Looks a long way down…” Neville whispered.
“There’s almost certainly a cushioning charm at the bottom,” Hermione whispered back.
“Are we sure about this?” Harry stepped to the edge.
“I’ll go first. Hermione, you follow me. Neville, you’re last.” Without another word he dropped into the darkness.
He had just enough time to wonder whether the charm actually existed before he landed on something soft and yielding.
Moments later two quieter thuds told him the others had joined him.
“Well,” he said, “that wasn’t so bad.”
“Shite!” Neville suddenly shouted.
Harry spun toward the sound.
“It’s Devil’s Snare!”
Harry squinted into the gloom and squeezed the spongy mass beneath him.
His eyes widened as understanding struck.
Devil’s Snare—carnivorous, strangling, slow to digest its victims.
“What do we do?!” “Fire! It hates fire!” Neville yelled.
“But we don’t have any wood!” Hermione moaned from somewhere nearby.
“Are you a witch or not?” Harry snapped.
He jabbed his wand at the vines curling around his legs and shouted, “Incendio!” A thin jet of flame leapt out.
Two more followed almost at once from his friends.
The plant recoiled instantly, uncoiling and retreating toward the walls.
The three of them scrambled for the next door, slammed it shut behind them, and let the flames die.
“Well,” Hermione puffed, “that was certainly interesting. Good thinking, Neville.”
“‘We don’t have any wood,'” Harry chuckled.
“That’s a classic, Hermione.” She glared at him.
“Excuse me for panicking. It’s the first time I’ve nearly been strangled by a plant.”
“At least we didn’t land on a troll,” Neville snorted.
“Ugh—let’s just keep moving. Anyone see a way out?” Hermione scanned the large, empty room.
Opposite them stood a set of double doors; overhead a flock of small, glittering objects wheeled and darted.
“You don’t think those things will attack if we step into the open, do you?”
“Those… they’re keys,” Harry said, staring upward in surprise.
“Keys?” Neville squinted.
“Wow. Guess there’s a reason you’re the Seeker. We have to catch the right one, then.”
“There Hermione are brooms pointed to over two here.” resting against the wall near the entrance.
“I’ve got this,” Harry said, already moving toward them.
“You two wait by the exit in case they attack and we need to run.” His friends nodded and hurried into position.
Harry swung a leg over a broom and kicked off.
The keys turned on him at once, diving like angry hornets.
Harry put every ounce of Quidditch practice to use—dodging, weaving, diving—until he spotted the one with a bent wing.
He snatched it from the air exactly as he would a Snitch, streaked toward the door, and flung the key to Neville before twisting through a final series of aerial manoeuvres to follow his friends.
The moment he cleared the threshold Hermione and Neville slammed the door.
A rapid series of thuds sounded against the wood, the tips of keys punching through from the other side.
“I don’t like how we’ve nearly died twice in five minutes,” Hermione said with a shudder.
“Did you expect it to be easy?”
Neville only shook his head and sighed.
“Sometimes I really hate you two. Chess this time?” He nodded toward the next chamber.
“Looks that way.” Harry surveyed the giant board.
“Anyone have a preference for King or Queen?”
Hermione walked toward the pieces.
“Harry, you should be the King. You’re the one who has to get through all of this.” Before he could protest she held up a hand.
“You’re the one who can reach Professor Babbling fastest.
Therefore you’re the most important piece right now.” “You’re both important too!” Harry scowled.
“All the same—you’re the King. Stop arguing.” She finished the sentence in a tone that brooked no debate.
Harry glared, then nodded.
She really could be bossy when she chose.
“Hermione, you take the Queen,” Neville said.
“I’ve always been better with Knights.”
The three living pieces they had claimed bowed and stepped aside.
The friends took their places.
With Hermione and Neville feeding him suggestions, Harry directed the game.
Given how poorly he played chess, it was fortunate Neville quickly assumed control of the strategy.
In less than ten minutes the opposing side was checkmated and the far doors swung open.
“Ugh—someone mentioned another troll?” Harry asked, hand over his nose.
“This one looks even bigger than the last,” Neville said quietly.
Fortunately the creature was already dead, a large section of its skull caved in.
Harry found it difficult to feel much pity.
Hermione was clinging tightly to his arm, trembling and making soft whimpering sounds.
“Come on. We’re falling behind.”