Chapter 23: Damn Gryffindor Courage

As they stand in the dimly lit corridor, the massive wooden door looming before them, the weight of their decision settles over them. The castle is eerily quiet at this hour, and every breath feels louder than it should.

Daphne crosses her arms, her sharp eyes scanning the group. This is madness. They're about to walk straight into whatever dangers Dumbledore has set up to protect the Philosopher's Stone. She clenches her jaw and exhales slowly.

"We need to think about this," she says firmly. "We don't know what's ahead. Running in without a plan is reckless."

Ron groans. "We already know what's ahead—Fluffy, and we know how to get past him. That's more than we knew five minutes ago. The longer we stand here, the more time Snape has to get the Stone!"

"And what happens after Fluffy?" Daphne presses, looking at each of them. "Do any of you actually know what spells or enchantments are waiting for us? What if we walk into something we can't handle?"

Hermione hesitates for the first time, but Harry doesn't. He steps closer, his voice steady. "Daphne, we don't have time to think this through. If we go to McGonagall, she'll never believe us. If we waste even a second more, we could be too late."

Daphne tightens her grip around her arms. Logically, she knows this is madness. But she also knows Harry—knows the determination in his eyes, the way his emotions surge through their bond, the way his fear of failing, of losing, mixes with his overwhelming need to act.

He takes another step forward, lowering his voice. "Do you trust me?"

Her breath catches. Trust him? Of course she does. More than she probably should.

Her heart pounds, every rational thought screaming at her to turn back—but when has she ever been able to walk away from Harry Potter?

She exhales sharply, shaking her head. "This is the dumbest Gryffindor nonsense I've ever been dragged into." Then, after a beat, she mutters, "And for the record, if I get mauled to death or turned into dog food, I'll never let you hear the end of it."

Ron snorts. "Noted. We'll try to keep you in one piece."

Harry gives Daphne one last look—one she feels as much as she sees. A silent thank you.

With one final breath, they step forward.

The heavy wooden door creaked as Harry pushed it open, revealing the dimly lit chamber beyond. The low, steady hum of a harp's melody filled the room, casting an eerie stillness over the enormous, three-headed dog lying on the stone floor. Fluffy's massive chests rose and fell in rhythm with the enchanted tune, his three heads resting heavily on his paws, eyes shut in slumber.

Harry felt his heart hammer against his ribs as he stepped inside, the others close behind. The room smelled of damp fur and something foul—like meat left out too long.

"There it is," Ron whispered, his voice barely audible. "The trapdoor."

Near Fluffy's enormous paws, they could just make out the outline of a wooden hatch built into the stone floor. Hermione swallowed hard, gripping her wand. "Someone's already been through," she murmured. "Look—the latch is undone."

Harry exchanged a tense glance with Daphne. If Snape had already made it this far, they had no time to waste. He took a cautious step forward, leading the group toward the trapdoor.

Fluffy huffed in his sleep, one of his heads twitching. The sheer size of the beast was staggering—if he woke, there would be no chance of fighting him off.

"We have to be quick," Daphne murmured.

Harry nodded and knelt by the trapdoor, gripping the iron ring. He gave it a tentative pull, and the wooden panel groaned loudly as it lifted. A black abyss yawned beneath them, stretching into nothingness.

Hermione peered over Harry's shoulder, her brow furrowing. "How far down does it go?"

"Only one way to find out," Harry said, forcing more confidence into his voice than he felt. "I'll go first."

Before anyone could argue, he swung his legs over the edge. The music still played, Fluffy still slept—but the air felt too thick, too fragile. Every second they lingered was a second too long.

Harry took a deep breath and let go.

The fall was short but jarring—he landed on something squishy, but before he could get his bearings, he heard Hermione's shriek from above.

The harp had stopped playing.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Then, a deep, guttural growl rumbled through the chamber.

Harry scrambled to his feet, what ever he had landed in was wrapping itself around his legs. He looked up just in time to see Ron, Hermione, and Daphne still frozen at the trapdoor as Fluffy's eyes snapped open. Three sets of yellow, gleaming irises locked onto them.

"JUMP!" Harry yelled.

Fluffy let out a deafening roar, all three heads lunging at once. Daphne jumped first diving, Hermione shrieked as Ron shoved her forward, sending her tumbling through the trapdoor. Fluffy's jaws snapped inches from Ron's back as he fell into the opening,plummeting into the darkness just as the beast's teeth clamped onto empty air. Above them, Fluffy's furious barks echoed through the stone, but the trapdoor slammed shut.

The moment Daphne landed, she knew something was wrong. The ground felt too soft, too unnatural. Before she could react, something slithered around her ankle. Her breath hitched.

Devil's Snare.

Daphne immediately stopped trying to wrench her leg free, keeping herself as still as possible. She knew better than to fight it. Forcing a slow exhale, she let herself sink downward. Within seconds, the vines released her, and she dropped onto solid stone below.

She rolled to her feet, dusting herself off just as Hermione came tumbling through the mass of vines above.

Hermione landed in a heap, gasping for breath.

"Easy there, Granger," Daphne said, already crouching beside her. She reached out, steadying Hermione as she pushed herself up. "You alright?"

"Yes—yes, I think so," Hermione panted, shaking off stray bits of vine. "I told them to stop struggling, but I don't think they're listening."

Daphne followed Hermione's gaze upward. Harry and Ron were still tangled in the Devil's Snare, their panicked movements only making things worse.

Ron let out a muffled yell as a thick vine wrapped around his chest. "This is it! This is how I die—strangled by a bloody plant!"

"Would you relax?" Hermione shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth. "Stop struggling and let it release you!"

Daphne frowned as she watched Harry. His aura flashing and flickering gold and black. He was fighting at first, his breath short, his body tensed—but then something shifted. His aura calmed and returned to his normal golden red, his breathing slowed.

A flicker of realization crossed Daphne's mind.

He's meditating.

She could feel it—the calm spreading through their bond, a steady pulse of focus washing over her own thoughts.

Slowly, the vines around Harry loosened. His body sank through the plant's grasp until, finally, he landed lightly on the stone floor beside them.

Daphne reached out without thinking, grasping his forearm to steady him.

Harry blinked, adjusting to the dim light, then met her gaze. She raised a brow, smirking. "Looks like someone is learning where their center is! I might be proud of you if it didn't require us almost getting eaten by a dog!"

A grin tugged at the corner of his lips. " Didn't get a lot of time to meditate before today. We havent had a lot of time to practice."

Daphne snorted, releasing his arm. "Fair point."

A loud thud cut through their moment as Ron dropped like a sack of potatoes onto the ground.

He groaned. "I hate this plan. I hate this school. I hate plants."

Daphne smirked and reached down, offering a hand. "On your feet, Weasley."

Ron eyed her warily but took the offered hand. "You're awfully helpful all of a sudden."

"I just don't want to explain to McGonagall how we lost you to shrubbery," Daphne quipped.

Ron snorted, dusting himself off. "Appreciate the concern."

Harry shook his head, already scanning their surroundings. The chamber was dimly lit, cold, and damp. This was just the first challenge.

He turned to Daphne, feeling the weight of the moment settle between them. "Ready for whatever's next?"

Daphne let out a slow breath, her expression sharpening. "Do I have a choice?"

Harry smirked. "Not really."

Daphne rolled her eyes but followed as he and the others moved forward.

The moment they stepped into the next chamber, they were met with an unsettling silence.

The room was massive, stretching high above them, its stone walls lined with thousands of enchanted keys. The air shimmered with their movement, the sound of fluttering wings echoing through the space like whispers in the dark.

On the far side of the chamber stood a large wooden door, sealed with a single rusted keyhole.

"Brilliant," Ron muttered. "Another bloody puzzle."

Harry's eyes flicked to the center of the room, where two ancient-looking broomsticks hovered just above the floor. Only two.

"That's not fair," Hermione frowned. "How are all of us supposed to get the key?"

Harry was already searching the swarm above, eyes darting from key to key. There. Among the chaos, one stood out—an old silver key with a bent wing.

"That's the one," he said, moving toward the brooms. "Come on, Ron. We'll grab it."

Ron groaned. "Flying keys? Great. It's not like we just nearly got eaten by a three-headed dog or strangled by a murderous plant."

"Stop whining and get on," Harry said, swinging himself onto a broom.

Ron hesitated, then grumbled something about hating puzzles before climbing on the second broom.

As soon as their feet left the ground, everything changed.

The keys suddenly shrieked, their metallic wings beating furiously as they turned into a swarming mass of defense.

"Oh, that's just not fair!" Ron yelped as the keys dove at them like a flock of angry birds.

Harry swerved to avoid a particularly aggressive key that nearly took his ear off. He locked onto the silver key, watching as it zipped and weaved through the enchanted storm.

"We have to cut it off!" he shouted. "Ron, go right!"

Ron tried, but the swarm was relentless, buffeting him with tiny wings. "I'm trying—"

Then, disaster.

Ron swerved too hard—straight into Harry.

The two collided midair, limbs tangling, and before either could correct their balance—

CRASH.

The brooms snapped beneath them as they slammed into the ground, sending splinters of wood skidding across the stone floor.

Pain flared through Harry's back, but he barely noticed. His eyes snapped to the shattered brooms.

The only way they had to reach the key.

Hermione let out a panicked breath. "The brooms—they're broken!"

Ron groaned from the floor. "Yeah, thanks, Hermione. I noticed."

Panic surged between them. They'd failed.

The key was still flitting high above them, just out of reach. The door remained locked.

And then, Harry turned to Daphne.

She stiffened. "No."

Their eyes met.

Harry didn't speak. He didn't need to.

Daphne knew what he was asking.

She was the only one who could still get the key.

The weight of their mission, of everything riding on this moment, hung between them.

Daphne inhaled sharply. "You're all so lucky I actually like you."

Then, before anyone could react—she changed.

A shimmer, a flicker of movement—then wings.

Hermione gasped. "She's—"

Ron nearly choked. "SHE'S A BLOODY BIRD?!"

A sleek, black raven shot into the air, slicing through the enchanted storm with practiced ease.

Daphne twisted and dove, weaving between the swarm like she'd been born for this. The keys screeched and lunged at her, trying to drive her back, but she was too fast, too nimble.

She spotted the silver key and pushed forward, wings cutting through the air as she closed the distance.

With a sharp snap of her beak, she caught it.

Daphne tucked her wings in and dove, rocketing toward the ground. She shifted just before landing, her feet hitting the stone as she flickered back into her human form.

She barely looked winded.

Ron was still gaping.

Hermione was still staring.

Daphne, as if she hadn't just turned into a raven and saved them all, tossed the key to Hermione.

Then she turned to Harry, winking. "Next time you ask me to change forms, I hope you can ask me a bit nicer. Makes a girl feel special."

Harry, despite everything, blushed and actually laughed.

Hermione, gripping the key, finally found her voice. "You never told us—"

Daphne arched her brow. "I don't tell anyone about that. Harry and you two are the only ones who know. That means you can't tell anyone what you just saw."

She turned to the locked door, adding dryly, "That is, if we make it out of this death trap."

Hermione hurried forward and shoved the key into the lock, twisting it open with a loud click.

The door swung open.

Ron, still recovering from the shock, muttered to Harry, "Harry, are you dating a bird?"

Harry sighed. "Not the time, Ron."

Daphne snorted as she strode past him. "Not the worst thing I've been called."

And with that, they stepped into the next challenge.