“Can you get us past?” Flitwick asked.

Cassian sighed, reaching for his wand. He muttered the incantation under his breath, the tip of his wand flaring softly as golden light began to pool in the air. Slowly, the shape of Hagrid formed, massive shoulders, tangled beard, and all, humming a tuneless melody as he strolled toward the beast.

The Cerberus’s ears perked. Three sets of nostrils flared.

“Clever boy, Hagrid,” Cassian murmured walking into the illusion.

The illusion Hagrid crouched, extending a hand. Fluffy’s middle head gave a low whine and lowered itself to the ground, eyes fluttering shut. The other two followed suit. In seconds, the giant creature was snoring.

Flitwick’s eyes gleamed. “Still amazes me what you can do with Lumos.”

Cassian smirked faintly. “Don’t sound so surprised. You’ve been teaching here long enough to know a trick or two.”

Flitwick laughed deviously, brushing it off.

The Cerberus gave a particularly loud snort, one paw twitching as it dreamed. Cassian huffed softly, the golden glow of his spell flickering around his fingers.

His brows furrowed. At the beginning of the year, when Dumbledore gathered them for the obstacles, Hagrid hadn’t been there. Was he added later? No, Harry and the others said Snape had been bitten back at Hallowe’en. So was Hagrid left out on purpose? Even Snape hadn’t known? Was Dumbledore trying to surprise the intruder? If so, was Snape really after the Stone? None of it made sense.

“Alright, Filius. What is behind door number two?”

Flitwick swung the trapdoor open and vanished into the dark without hesitation. His small frame disappeared into the darkness below.

Cassian rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, this is going to end with me breaking something important.” He glanced down at the yawning gap and jumped after him.

The fall was longer than he expected. For half a second, his stomach lurched as his boots found nothing but air, then, whump, he landed on something soft. Too soft.

“What in devil’s… snare.” Cassian muttered, his fingers sinking into cool, damp tendrils. The texture was wrong, spongy, almost too pliant.

“Don’t move!” Flitwick’s voice cut through the darkness.

“Brilliant. Always the words you want to hear after you’ve plummeted into a hole.” Cassian froze mid-step.

The torches flickered to life along the walls, and Cassian’s stomach dropped for the second time in a minute.

Devil’s Snare.

Thick, ropey vines writhed sluggishly around his boots like they were tasting him. One tendril crept higher up his calf.

“Oh no,” he said flatly. “Absolutely not.”

“They react to movement,” Flitwick said from somewhere to his right. His voice was annoyingly calm for a man halfway tangled in murderous flora.

“I’m aware.” Cassian drew his wand.

“Relax—” Flitwick began, but it was too late. He barely had time to squint when Cassian’s wand lit a sun, blinding him. The Devil’s Snare recoiled with a wet hiss. Flitwick shielded his eyes, still feeling them sting. “Warn first, won’t you?”

Cassian chuckled. “Sorry. Was dangled by Devil’s Snare in my first year.”

The light danced across the Devil’s Snare, and the tendrils recoiled with an angry hiss.

The moment the vines loosened, Cassian yanked his leg free. “Oh, I hate this plant. I hated it in Herbology, and I hate it now.”

He looked around, “The Headmaster said these are meant to be obstacles, not to maim. But who are they really for? Fluffy isn’t something students could get past easily. I doubt even most professors could. The Devil’s Snare, though, is laughably simple. First year, first class in Herbology. Anyone who can cast Lumos Solem could pass.”

Flitwick walked ahead, “It’s best not to ask too many questions. The Headmaster knows what he’s doing. Let’s keep moving,” Flitwick said cheerfully, stepping past him like he hadn’t just been half-strangled. “It grows fast if you give it half a chance.”

“Of course it does. Everything here either grows too fast or tries to bite you.” Cassian squinted and followed. “Sprout’s contribution to our collective insanity?”

Flitwick stopped short. “Indeed. Best not to kill them, you know how she reacts when her plants are hurt.”

“That won’t be the issue,” Cassian said, stepping carefully onto the nearest patch. “The issue will be whether I scream at the top of my lungs when it grabs my leg.”

The next passage sloped downward. Water trickled somewhere beyond the stone walls, the sound echoing faintly as they walked.

They stepped into a chamber, tall and vast. The ceiling arched high above, gilded light spilling across thousands of glittering objects flitting about in the air.

Cassian squinted. “Keys? Why are there so many bloody keys?”

“Winged keys,” Flitwick corrected with a hint of pride. “My little contribution to the gauntlet.”

Cassian’s eyes tracked the fluttering silver streaks. “Your contribution was to fill a room with flying keys. Lovely.”

“It isn’t simple.” Flitwick pointed toward the far side of the chamber, where a massive wooden door loomed. A single silver lock gleamed at its centre. “One of them unlocks that door. The rest…” He gestured vaguely at the swirling cloud above.

Cassian groaned. “So we’re playing fetch with enchanted keys.”

Flitwick pointed at the broom resting against the far wall with his eyebrow. “Fetch, yes. But not as simple as it looks.”

Cassian eyed the broom with distaste. “You’re not suggesting I fly, are you?”

“Of course. You’re taller. Better reach.”

“Height doesn’t translate into aerodynamics, Filius,” Cassian said. “And I can’t fly.”

Flitwick chuckled under his breath, barely flicking his wand. One of the keys stopped mid-air and drifted down to hover neatly in front of him. “My creation to begin with,” he said, plucking the correct key out of the air as though it had been waiting for him. He strolled to the door and slotted it in, the lock clicking open without a fuss.

Cassian looked at the broomstick resting against the wall, then shook his head.

The next chamber was colder, the light thinning as they stepped through. Stone stretched ahead, polished smooth in a wide grid. Cassian stopped short.

“Chess,” he muttered, staring at the carved pieces lined up like soldiers. “You’re kidding me.”

McGonagall’s handiwork was obvious in the crisp lines and towering size of each piece. The pawns stood taller than him, faces expressionless.

Cassian’s lips twisted. “So what happens if you step on the wrong square? The floor swallow you whole?”

A knight on the left twitched slightly, its stone lance clinking against its shield.

Cassian grimaced. “Thought so. Hogwarts really has a flair for overkill.” He turned to Flitwick. “You play?”

“Passably,” Flitwick said, brushing off his robes. “But we’re short a person. Let’s skip it.”

Cassian’s frown deepened. His eyes followed the grid of chess squares one last time before Flitwick nudged him toward a shadowed stretch of stone. At the end sat a short corridor, dimly lit and far too quiet for comfort. Updates are released by NoveI-Fire.ɴet

“If you will, Cassian. Place your illusion.”

“Any preferences? I can make it a banshee. Or Hagrid again. Or a flaming Hippogriff if you fancy traumatising the next poor sod who stumbles through.”

“No theatrics,” Flitwick said, cutting him off before the list got longer. “Just effective.”

Cassian smirked faintly as he stepped into the corridor. He flicked his wand, and a floating book the size of a dinner tray shimmered into existence. The leather cover looked cracked around the edges, but gold letters still gleamed, Essential Truths.

The book snapped open. Pages fluttered, then stilled. A single line of ink burned across the parchment and spoke in a clear voice…

“Walk through me and you shall perish.

Wait here twenty-four hours and you shall be safe.

Books never lie.”

Walking beneath the hovering book, Cassian drew from his robes a small bottle of shimmering liquid and a quill. Kneeling, he dipped the quill into the fluid and began to sketch on the stone floor. Lines curved, intersected, and folded upon themselves until the pattern warped the eye, a lattice of runes twisting into the impossible shape of a tesseract.

The air around him hummed, the ink refusing to sink into the ground, instead glowing faintly as though suspended above the surface. Each new stroke of the feather made the shape bend in on itself, reality straining at the edges.

Then, just as he drew the final line, the entire rune vanished, leaving not a trace. Flitwick frowned.

“Invisible rune?” He stepped closer, peering at the floor, tilting his head as if another angle might reveal it. But no matter how he looked, nothing appeared. “How can one solve something that isn’t there? Wait, was it illusion? No… I swear I felt reality shift.”

Cassian chuckled. “Oh, it’s there, all right. Just… there isn’t there.”

“There isn’t there.” Flitwick rolled the words on his tongue, then laughed. “Oh, brilliant.”

“Figured a warning sign might discourage thrill-seekers.” Cassian shrugged. “Nothing worse than kids blundering in because a corridor looks empty.”

“Fair.” Flitwick turned away, already eyeing the next door.

Cassian noticed the lack of reaction, then looked beyond the flickering book, eyes narrowing. “What’s next in this charming obstacle course?”

Flitwick dusted his hands together. “The fifth chamber holds a mountain troll. Quirrell’s little addition.”

Cassian snorted softly. “Of course it is. Nothing says ‘security’ like dropping a troll in a room and hoping it doesn’t sit on the furniture.”

Flitwick’s mouth twitched. “He claims to have a knack for handling them.”

“Mm. I’ll bet he does,” Cassian muttered, gaze lingering on the heavy door ahead. “Alright. And the sixth?”

“Snape’s handiwork,” Flitwick said. “A potions riddle. Purple flames block the entrance, black flames the exit. Seven bottles on a table. Some poison, some safe. It’s a logic test to work out which will get you through.”

Cassian’s gaze locked on the Charms Professor. “You mean to say there’s a very deadly poison ahead that can kill the intruder? I thought the Headmaster said we aim to dissuade, not maim. Last I checked, dying was pretty maiming.”

Flitwick laughed. “I assure you, it is not deadly.”

Cassian wanted to argue but bit his tongue. “And then?”

“That,” Flitwick said, pausing, “is something only the Headmaster knows.”

Cassian sighed. “Naturally. A final flourish from the man who enjoys leaving secrets lying about like loose nails.”

Flitwick gave no response, already moving on.

Spoiler

[collapse]

Author Rant ↓ 

Spoiler

I don’t mind silence. It’s when it lingers this long it starts looking intentional

[collapse]

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep