The stone door closed behind them and cut off all light. Not even a sliver of illumination remained. The air closed in, tight and unmoving.
Neville Longbottom shivered and quaked. His breath rested like stones at the bottom or his lungs and made his chest ache. Darkness closed in like a cocoon of black wool. He smothered, gasping for air.
He was part of an adventure. How had that happened? His solo trip through the maze had been terrifying enough. With Professor Snape along--he should never have said a word. He could be home sharing the holidays with his Gran instead of traipsing through scary black passageways facing who-knows-what kind of dangers.
Hot shame burned his cheeks. A memory rose in his mind, of Harry in a hospital bed, fighting to hide his pain. For the first time, Harry Potter needed help from Neville Longbottom. How could he think about himself at a time like this?
Neville jumped when the Potions Master's voice rose out of the darkness, "Lumos."
Soft ivory light flared from the tip of Snape's wand. A small circle of corridor leaped out of the darkness. A moment later, Hermione lit her wand and expanded the ring.
Neville gripped his wand tight and whispered, "Lumos."
Under the combined illumination, the corridor came into full detail as far as the first right bend. Stone columns lined both sides of a passage ten feet wide and twice that in height. Relief engravings banded the center third of each granite pillar with swirls of ivy, fans of delicate ferns, and a dozen varieties of flower in different stages of bloom.
At the edge of the light stood a pedestal, on top of which rested a polished acacia-wood raven in flight. Diamonds embedded in the black wood served as eyes. Each faceted gem bent the light into brilliant rainbows.
"Stay close," Snape said.
The shuffle and scrape of their steps echoed around them. On the floor could be seen a single set of footprints, left in the dust by Neville during his first accidental visit. Their passage kicked up a cloud of fine powder that irritated the eyes and clogged the nose. Neville sneezed; the noise rebounded and amplified until they all covered their ears in protest.
As the sound at last died away, Snape paused at the right bend to study the way ahead. More columns lined the walls, though the width had narrowed to six feet. Black squares marked the location of side passageways. Firepots embossed with the Hogwarts crest, identical to those in the rest of the castle, flared to life, provided sufficient light.
"Here's your chance to prove your worth, Mr. Longbottom. Which way?"
"I did try a few of these side hallways," Neville pointed to several of the black spaces, "but they ended either at a locked door or a dead end."
A dark eyebrow rose. "Should I assume you at least tried to open the doors?"
"Yes, sir." Longbottom cringed. "None of the unlocking spells worked."
"So basically the only way lies straight ahead."
"Yes, Professor."
"Very well. Follow me, but bear in mind that Mr. Potter is dying. Every second is critical. Do not fall behind because I will not wait for you."
Snape moved forward at a brisk pace. Hermione and Neville were forced to take three hopping steps to one of his longer strides. As they passed the first of the branch passages, a thin finger of wind tickled their cheeks, a cross-draft from an unidentified source. The faintest scents of yeast and oats hinted that the path might at some point pass close to the kitchens.
Unaccustomed to exertion, Neville struggled for enough breath to raise his voice over the click of their heels against stone. "Sir-"
Snape moved further ahead. His wider steps easily outstripped his younger, smaller companions.
"Keep up, Mr. Longbottom. We don't have time to look for you if you wander off down a side corridor."
"But, Professor!"
Neville grabbed the back of Hermione's robes. He dragged her to a halt even as the floor disappeared beneath the Potions Master's feet. With a swirl of billowing cloth, Severus Snape vanished into a black pit.
Snape's startled yell drowned out Neville's frantic, "Wingardium leviosa!"
Sweat beaded across Longbottom's forehead as he fought to hold the spell. The weight of a full-grown man was far harder to maintain in midair than the feather he'd trained with in his first year.
Hermione raised her own wand. "Hold on. I'll cast a weight-reducing spell. Be ready for the shift."
Before Longbottom could nod, the young witch cast the spell. The change in weight threw off the dynamics of the levitation--Snape bobbed straight up like a cork in a turbulent sea. Neville corrected in time to keep the Potions Master from slamming into the ceiling. Even so, the professor's greasy hair left a shiny spot on the gray stone.
Hermione grabbed Snape's trouser leg and pulled him back over solid floor. Neville released the spell with a gusty sigh of relief.
Severus staggered as his feet touched solid ground. He breathed deep, straightened his spine, and smoothed his ebony robes. Despite his usual veneer of detachment, his skin had paled several shades closer to white.
"Mr. Longbottom."
"He tried to warn you, Professor," Hermione leapt to her friend's defense, to the point of placing her body between the teenager and the Potions Master, "but you wouldn't listen."
"Hermione," Neville whispered as he twitched her sleeve, "maybe you shouldn't-"
"No," Snape held up a silencing hand, "she is correct. I failed to remember your previous experience and have not taken your knowledge into account. Precisely how many of these traps might we expect to encounter before we reach the atrium?"
Neville did a fast mental count. "Not including this one, there are three triggers that release darts or spears, a falling block that cuts you off from going back the way you came, fire jets, oh, and an ice river. I had to transfigure one of my notebooks into a pair of skates to get across that last."
Snape gazed at Neville, an odd light in his eyes. His voice lacked much of its customary sarcasm when he said, "You made it through this maze entirely on your own? I am impressed."
"You could thank him, you know," Hermione said. "After all, he did save your life."
"I could, yes. But I'm not going to. He did no more than I would have done. As you would do. That is, after all, what being part of a team is about?" He tilted his head toward her as though challenging her to argue the point.
She answered with a stubborn stance, arms crossed over her midriff, wand jutting out toward the left. "A thank you still would not hurt."
Snape looked away. After several moments' struggle that included some uncomfortable foot shuffling, he finally said, "There is only thing I might thank one of you for. Could you . . ."
"Yes, Professor Snape?"
"I . . . when the floor gave way, I . . . dropped my wand. Would . . . would one of you . . . recover it by casting Accio?"
TBC