The three-headed dog had finally succumbed to the music. Its six eyes fluttered shut, and it let out a massive yawn before slumping to the floor. Moments later, thunderous snores echoed through the chamber.
The group of young wizards exhaled in unison, their faces alight with triumph. They'd taken down the beast together, forging a bond in the heat of battle. Erwin surveyed them with a nod of approval. This was precisely the outcome he'd hoped for—not just honing their spellwork, but building trust and teamwork through shared peril.
Hermione flicked her wand, casting a Levitation Charm to shift the dog's massive paws from the trapdoor below. She peered into the yawning darkness beneath. "We don't know what's waiting for us," she said softly. "If anyone wants to back out now, this is your chance."
The others exchanged glances, but no one budged. Even the more cautious Slytherins couldn't resist the thrill of the unknown. Pansy shouldered past Hermione with a cool glare. "Don't lump me in with the quitters. If I'm to be Lord Erwin's right hand, a little danger won't stop me." Without another word, she leaped through the opening.
The rest followed suit, and Hermione brought up the rear, sealing the trapdoor behind her.
Once they were gone, four figures materialized in the room—the Heads of the Houses. Professor McGonagall approached the enchanted instruments, her eyes twinkling. "Brilliant Transfiguration," she murmured, a broad smile breaking across her face. "Exquisite work. Full marks if this were an exam."
Professor Flitwick joined her, inspecting the setup. "Their Charms were solid too, minor flaws aside. For their age, it's remarkable. Erwin's spot on—nothing sharpens a young wizard's skills like real combat."
Professor Sprout nodded thoughtfully. "Quite right. Shame none of my Hufflepuffs joined in this time. I'd love to see how they'd fare."
A faint glow seeped from the trapdoor's edge. "They're through the Devil's Snare," McGonagall said. "Shall we?"
No incantations, no wands drawn—they simply vanished in a shimmer of air. A flawless, wandless Disillusionment Charm.
Erwin, observing from afar, let out a low whistle of admiration. The professors' power was on another level; no Auror could match that finesse in a dozen lifetimes. But he soon turned his focus back to the students—tracking the Heads was impossible anyway.
The Devil's Snare posed no threat. Under Erwin's recent tutelage, every Slytherin had become a star pupil, and with Hermione leading, they spotted the plant's light sensitivity immediately. Dozens of Lumos spells erupted, sending the vines writhing and retreating. The Snare, battered and sparse, barely reformed in their wake. Professor Sprout would grieve its state later, muttering about overkill—one charm would have sufficed, but a barrage had nearly done it in.
Next came the flock of winged keys, darting like silver birds around a locked door, with a row of enchanted brooms nearby. The group halted, eyes scanning the chaos. Instinctively, they turned to Harry Potter—the only Seeker among them, with the prefects absent.
Hermione, sharp as ever but still green to the subtleties of scheming, furrowed her brow. Something felt off, but she couldn't pinpoint it. The pure-bloods, though, sensed the setup immediately; they'd been steeped in intrigue since birth.
"Harry," Hermione asked, "think you can catch the right one?"
Harry's gaze hardened with determination. "I'll give it my all. Should be doable."
He was poised to showcase his Seeker prowess when Pansy's voice cut through. "Why bother with a chase? Look closely—those keys are shielding the biggest one. That's got to be the real deal. But grabbing it might rile up the rest. Fancy dodging a swarm of keys mid-air?"
Pansy stepped forward, her tone laced with confidence. Erwin watched, a grin tugging at his lips. She was full of surprises—this girl.
In the original tale, snatching the true key would indeed unleash the flock on Harry and his friends, forcing a desperate scramble. With a full group here, that chaos could turn disastrous.
Hermione paused, weighing Pansy's words. They weren't friends, but logic was logic. "Fair point. So, what's your plan?"
A flicker of smug satisfaction crossed Pansy's face—she'd one-upped the know-it-all. Channeling Erwin's poised demeanor, hands clasped behind her back, she intoned gravely, "Lord Erwin once said that when facing the unknown—especially if it might bite back—don't gamble. Sever the threat at its root."
Erwin's eyebrow twitched. He'd never phrased it quite like that, but close enough; Pansy was putting her own spin on it.
"Simple," she continued. "Blast every last key out of the air. No keys flying means no surprises."
The others murmured agreement. If it hadn't come from their leader's "wisdom," they might've wavered. But as it was, wands rose in unison. Incendio and Stupefy charms lit the room, feathers and sparks flying as the keys plummeted like shot birds. The largest drifted harmlessly to the floor, unscathed.
Hermione snatched it up and fitted it to the lock with a satisfying click. The door swung open, revealing the chamber beyond. The group pressed on, bonds tighter, skills sharper—exactly as Erwin had intended.