[Third Person Pov]
The Spear Knight tore the thick, writhing vines from around its leg with brute force, ripping them apart with its bare hands before charging straight toward Gwyneth. Panic flared across her face as the towering figure closed the distance far too quickly.
"Roll between its legs!" Lance shouted, already sprinting after the knight to intercept it.
Gwyneth didn't hesitate. The moment the Spear Knight lunged forward, she threw herself into a roll, slipping beneath its armored frame just as the spear carved through the air where her head had been a second earlier. The knight twisted around with surprising speed, but Lance was already there, blades flashing as he moved to draw its attention.
With both hands occupied wielding his swords, Lance left the magical support to Gwyneth, trusting her to guard his back. She shouted rapid incantations, her wand cutting sharp arcs through the air, while she tore through her magic scrolls sparingly—each one precious, each one irreplaceable.
Bolts of magic streaked from Gwyneth's wand in bright flashes of light. The Spear Knight twisted its body unnaturally, avoiding some of the blasts, while others slammed into its armor with dull, echoing impacts. At the same time, Lance was struck by the knight's brutal physical attacks, the blunt force of armored limbs sending him flying. He crashed hard into the ground, pain blooming across his body as bruises immediately began to form.
Lance barely stayed down for a heartbeat. Using the momentum of the fall, he rolled and pushed himself back to his feet, charging once more—this time aiming not for the armor itself, but for the weak points between the plates.
He drove his sword into the gap at the knight's knee, slipping the blade cleanly between the armor segments and rolling away just as the Spear Knight stabbed downward. The spear slammed into the ground exactly where Lance had been moments before, cracking stone.
As the knight recovered, Lance whipped out his wand, while the Knight cocked his arm ready to throw his spear at him.
Gwyneth reacted instantly. She ripped a scroll free and activated [Tier 2: Magic Bullet], aiming precisely at the knight's hand. The spell detonated on impact, blasting the spear away before it could fully leave the knight's grip.
Lance snapped his wand toward his sword, recalling it with a sharp gesture. The blade tore through the air and slashed cleanly through the knight's leg at the knee joint. Metal screamed as the limb was severed, forcing the Spear Knight to crash down onto a single remaining leg.
The sword flew back into Lance's waiting hands as Gwyneth rushed around behind the knight, panting heavily. She tore through another scroll, unleashing a barrage of enchanted seeds that rocketed toward the back of the knight's remaining knee. However, even crippled, the Spear Knight adapted quickly. Using its strength, it leapt away at the last second, landing in a rough roll and hopping toward its fallen spear.
The seeds exploded violently—but too close.
"Watch it!" Lance shouted as debris and magical shockwaves burst near him.
"Sorry!" Gwyneth cried out in panic, rushing toward him as the knight continued hopping, dragging itself towards his leg now.
Lance flicked his wand sharply and yanked at the knight's cut leg with magic, pulling it over towards him. "How many spells do you have left?" he demanded.
"Three," Gwyneth answered honestly, her voice strained.
Lance glanced at the sheets in her hand quickly and nodded. "Alright. I've got a plan. We can still win—everything's riding on that last leg. First, use the smoke screen spell."
A thick cloud of smoke erupted around both Lance and Gwyneth, swallowing them from view. Outside the haze, the Spear Knight hopped cautiously, planting its spear into the ground to stabilize itself as it adjusted to fighting on one leg.
The knight crouched low, then launched itself forward, leaping directly into the smoke.
Lance burst out of the cloud at the last moment. Both weapons flashed forward, colliding with a deafening metallic clang. The impact forced Lance backward, but he rolled with it, somersaulting away and landing on his feet just as the knight stabbed the ground where he had stood.
Reaching into his side, Lance hurled a single sheet of enchanted paper into the air, gifted to him by Gwyneth, in front of the knight. The Spear Knight hesitated, momentarily confused—just long enough.
Lance slashed the sheet midair.
The spell activated instantly. Thick mud erupted forward, guided by the arc of his sword, splattering across the knight's helmet and faceplate. Its vision was completely obscured.
Lance surged forward without wasting a second, slashing at the knight's remaining leg and forcing it down onto one knee. As the knight desperately tried to wipe its visor clear, Lance shifted his attack, cutting across its hands and weapon in rapid strikes. The spear clattered uselessly to the ground.
The Spear Knight disarmed and kneeling, Lance dropped down to one knee as well in preparation.
Gwyneth burst out of the smoke at a full sprint, a rapier clenched tightly in one hand and a glowing sheet of enchanted paper in the other. Her eyes were locked forward, sharp with focus. Without slowing, she planted a foot against Lance's back and used him as a springboard, vaulting high into the air.
Lance barely had time to register her weight before she was gone.
Midair, Gwyneth snapped the paper up in front of her, aligning it perfectly with her trajectory. She thrust her rapier forward with everything she had, the blade piercing straight through the magic scroll and plunging into the Golem Knight's helmet in one decisive motion.
Magic erupted.
Crackling energy surged violently from the point of impact as her final Magic Bullet spell activated. The force of the blast ruptured the helmet completely, shattering the engraved magic sigil embedded within. With its core destroyed, the metal golem convulsed for a split second before collapsing in on itself. Armor plates, joints, and weapons clattered uselessly to the floor as the construct broke apart into lifeless components.
As gravity reclaimed her, Lance moved on instinct. He caught Gwyneth mid-fall, but the impact sent both of them crashing to the ground. They landed hard, Gwyneth sprawled on top of him, both groaning as the breath was knocked from their lungs.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Gwyneth lifted her head, her exhaustion forgotten as a radiant smile spread across her face, bright enough to chase away the tension of the battle.
"Yay! We did it!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around Lance and tackling him into a tight hug. "Your plan worked!"
Lance let out a short laugh, a faint blush creeping across his face as he let his head fall back against the ground.
"That we did," he replied warmly, lifting a hand to pat her head. "Good work."
Around them, however, the fight was far from over.
Nearby, the golden trio looked battered and exhausted. All three were bruised and scraped, having been repeatedly thrown into the dungeon floor and slammed against the stone walls. Hermione stood her ground despite the pain, shouting incantations as vivid purple fire burst from the tip of her wand, forcing a metal knight backward step by step.
Ron was carrying Hermione's small enchanted bag—one Arthur had gifted her for Christmas. Thanks to its expanded interior, Hermione, like Gwyneth, had stocked it full of magic spells and enchanted sheets. Ron and Harry, who hadn't bothered to bring any of their own, were now deeply regretting that decision.
Forced to rely on Hermione's supplies, Ron and Harry split the spells between themselves. Without needing to say a word, the three of them fell into familiar roles, their teamwork honed by instinct and trust.
Harry acted as the tank, throwing himself directly in front of attacks meant for his friends. He summoned protective shields again and again, each one shattering violently on impact and sending him flying backward to crash alongside the others.
Ron took on the role of distraction. He hurled spells wildly and shouted insults at the knight, deliberately drawing its attention.
"You call that a sword swing?" Ron yelled, ducking narrowly out of the way. "My gran has better form!"
The taunts worked.
With the knight focused on Ron, Hermione seized her opportunity. She shouted precise incantations, her wand blazing as bolts of colorful magic tore into the armor. Piece by piece, she dismantled the construct—each successful strike ripping away plates, joints, and enchanted bindings until the knight was reduced to little more than scrap metal.
The process was long, brutal, and exhausting, but they held their formation and played their parts flawlessly.
When it was finally over, all three of them were bent over, panting and gasping for air. Sweat soaked their clothes. Harry nursed a bleeding lip, Ron had a cut running down his brow and bleeding down to his face, and Hermione felt like every inch of her body was bruised. Her face and bushy hair were coated in dust and grime.
Still, they couldn't help but smile as they stared down at the shattered remains of the knight at their feet.
Then Harry froze.
A sudden chill crawled up his spine as he felt something cold and threatening press against his neck. A shadow loomed over him. Slowly, carefully, Harry turned his head.
Quirrell stood behind him.
The man was holding his wand dangerously close, his eyes gleaming with something dark and twisted as a nasty grin spread across his face.
"You didn't forget about me, did you… dear ol' Potter?" Quirrell sneered.
Ron and Hermione went rigid, horror flooding their expressions as the reality of the situation sank in.
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