The cool, damp grass of the grounds gave way to the cold, hard stone of the Entrance Hall. Adam slipped through the heavy oak doors, pulling them shut behind him with a quiet click that echoed in the vast, silent space. Moonlight streamed through the high arched windows, painting stripes of silver and shadow across the flagstone floor. He was safe. He let out a long, slow breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, the adrenaline from his adventure in the Spirit Grove finally beginning to fade. His mind was a whirlwind, but at least he was back within the castle walls.
He had succeeded without being seen by anyone... Just as he had this thought, he heard it.
"Find what you were looking for in the forest, Taylor?"
The voice was calm, cool, and utterly unexpected. It cut through the silence from a deep shadow near the grand staircase.
Adam spun around in an instant, his heart leaping into his throat. His wand was in his hand before he'd even fully turned, its tip pointed instinctively at the source of the sound. He saw a figure detach itself from the darkness, stepping gracefully into a patch of moonlight. Her arms were crossed, her expression unreadable.
He lowered his wand, his shock overriding all his other senses. "Daphne," he breathed, the name a mix of disbelief and accusation.
She took another slow step forward, her silver-green Slytherin tie a slash of colour against her dark robes. "Adam," she replied, and the deliberate use of his first name sent a shiver down his spine. It was a clear signal. This was not a casual encounter.
"I was wondering when you'd be back," she said, her voice a low murmur that didn't echo in the cavernous hall. "What were you doing out there?"
"I was just..." Adam started, his mind scrambling for a plausible lie, but Daphne cut him off with a small, impatient shake of her head.
"Don't bother," she said. "I saw you at the feast tonight. You weren't really there. Your mind was a million miles away. You looked like a soldier planning a campaign, not a boy enjoying a meal. Then you left early." She paused, her eyes analytical, piercing. "I knew you were up to something. Your little act in the flying lesson, your... surprising expertise in Potions. The way you are always, somehow, more than you seem."
Her gaze was unwavering. "I was curious. So I followed you. I saw you walk across the grounds and disappear at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. And I have been waiting here for the past hour for you to return."
Adam stood frozen, completely and utterly cornered. Every lie he could think of died on his lips. She had seen everything. She had waited. She had been patient. This wasn't a random encounter; it was a calculated interception.
Daphne took one more step, closing the distance between them slightly. Her voice dropped even lower, becoming a sharp, pointed whisper. "So, I will not ask you again what is so interesting in the forest, Adam. I will ask you something more important."
She tilted her head, her expression turning from curiosity to a clear, cold threat.
"Why should I not go directly to Professor Snape's office right now and tell him I found a Gryffindor first-year sneaking back into the castle at midnight?"
The threat hung in the cold, silent air of the Entrance Hall, sharp and clear. Adam looked at Daphne's stern, unyielding face and was surprised by what he saw. He saw the calculated threat, yes, but underneath it, he saw something else: a flicker of uncertainty, a posture that was just a little too rigid, a little too practiced. And then, to her complete bewilderment, he chuckled.
It started as a small, quiet sound, but grew into a soft, confident laugh that echoed slightly in the empty hall.
"What's so funny, Taylor?" Daphne snapped, her composure clearly rattled by his unexpected reaction.
"You are," Adam said, his smile still in place. "You don't have to bother yourself by acting so tough, Daphne."
He saw a flash of anger in her eyes. "I'm not acting."
"Aren't you?" he challenged gently. "Let's think about this. First, you won't tell a professor because you were also out of your common room after hours, waiting in a dark corner to ambush me."
Daphne's chin lifted defiantly. "I was inside the castle doors. You were on the grounds, coming from the Forbidden Forest. Professor Snape wouldn't mind the distinction, especially when the reward is catching a rule-breaking Gryffindor."
Adam's smile widened, becoming bright and genuine. "You're right. That's a good point," he conceded easily. "But that's not the main reason, is it?"
"And what," she asked, her voice laced with ice, "is the main reason?"
He held her gaze, his expression now open and friendly, completely disarming her threat. "The main reason you won't tell him," Adam said, his voice soft but sure, "is because we're friends."
The actual main reason is that she needs me for the trial, and we both know it, he thought, watching her carefully. But this tough act... it's just a front. She's testing me. Better to offer a bridge than to meet her threat with one of my own.
The word "friends" landed between them, and for a few long moments, Daphne just stood there, completely still. Adam could practically see the gears turning in her sharp mind as she processed his words. Her crossed arms loosened slightly. The hard, defensive line of her shoulders softened. Finally, she let out a long, quiet sigh, the sound of a carefully constructed wall crumbling down. It was a sigh of resignation, as if he had seen right through her.
She looked at him, and the cold, calculating mask was gone, replaced by an expression of genuine, tired curiosity. It was as if he was right.
"So," she asked, her voice losing all of its earlier malice, "what were you doing outside so sneakily?"
Adam looked at her, the question hanging in the air between them. Her tough act had crumbled, replaced by a genuine curiosity that was, in its own way, far more disarming.
He let out a long, slow sigh.
He couldn't tell her the truth about the fairies and secret spaces that he just visited, not yet. He knew that her family might already know about them since Dumbledore and even muggle mages seemed to be in collaboration with the fairies and maybe more magical creatures and races. But he had no reason to visit them so it qas better if no one knew about it.
"It was... a personal matter I had to attend to," he said, his voice low and honest, even if the words were vague. "Can you please just leave it be?"
He expected an argument, another sharp retort, but surprisingly, she just held his gaze for a moment and then gave a single, decisive nod. "Fine."
The subject was dropped as quickly as it had been raised. She was pragmatic, he realized. His personal secrets didn't matter to her as much as their shared one.
"Did you find anything?" she asked, her voice returning to its usual, business-like tone. "About the trial?"
The question made Adam look away, a flush of guilt rising in his neck. Between the birthday party, the flying incident, and his own secret adventure, he hadn't spent a single moment looking for clues.
"No," he said, his voice a tiny, almost inaudible murmur.
Daphne didn't seem surprised. "I expected as much," she said, and seeing the guilty look on his face, she quickly clarified. "Not because I thought you weren't trying. It's because there is nothing to find."
Adam looked back at her, intrigued.
"I've spent every spare moment in the library for the past two weeks," she explained, her voice a low, frustrated whisper. "I've read every book on the Founders. I've cross-referenced every mention of Ravenclaw's architecture and enchanted objects in Hogwarts, A History. I've even looked through books on magical contracts and ancient trials. There isn't a single mention of it. Not a whisper. It's like the trial doesn't exist in any recorded text."
She took a deep breath, her frustration giving way to a new, steely resolve. "Which means that waiting and reading is a waste of time. There is only one real, tangible secret in this castle right now. The one on the third-floor corridor."
Her grey eyes locked onto his. "I've decided to go and see what's under that trap door. The one the three-headed dog is guarding."
She paused, letting the weight of her dangerous plan settle between them. "I'm asking if you'll come with me." She saw the flicker of hesitation in his eyes and added, her tone carefully neutral, "It could be dangerous. You can choose not to come, if you're scared."
Her words were blunt, the kind that would sound like a taunt to anyone else. It was a classic Slytherin challenge. But luckily, Adam understood this little snake well. He saw the flicker of her own fear in her eyes, the slight tension in her shoulders. It wasn't a taunt. It was a genuine, if poorly refined, way of being considerate; her own clumsy attempt at giving him a way out without losing face.
Adam listened to her clumsy, prideful challenge and understood it for what it was: a genuine plea from someone who didn't know how to ask for help. He met her determined gaze and gave a slow, deliberate nod.
"Daphne," he began, his voice a low, serious murmur that carried in the silent hall, "as much as I don't want to die a painful death, it is more important that I don't leave you alone to go there. So, even if I don't want to, I'll come with you." He paused, giving her one last chance. "But are you sure?"
Daphne, who had steeled herself for an argument or a refusal, was caught completely off guard by his immediate, sincere agreement. She wasn't the slightest bit worried now. Instead, a faint, warm blush crept up her neck, a welcome heat in the cold castle. Luckily, the deep shadows of the Entrance Hall covered it completely.
I'm... more important than dying a painful death? The interesting thought lingered in her mind for only a fleeting moment, a strange and unfamiliar warmth in her chest. But then, another image flashed in front of her eyes, sharp and clear: her younger sister, Astoria, looking pale and tired in her bed back home. The memory was a douse of cold water, instantly washing away any personal feelings. She mentally ate the butterflies that had appeared in her stomach, her expression hardening back into one of pure, unyielding resolve. This wasn't about her. It was about her sister.
"I'm sure," she said, her voice firm.
With that, she turned and began to walk towards the Grand Staircase. Adam fell into step beside her, and they began their ascent in a tense silence, their footsteps echoing on the stone.
Adam knew exactly what was on the third floor. He knew about Fluffy, the Devil's Snare, the flying keys, the chess set, and the rest of Dumbledore's elaborate, first-year-proof security system. He also knew, with absolute certainty, that it had nothing to do with a trial left behind by Rowena Ravenclaw.
How can I even begin to tell her? he thought as they climbed. 'Sorry, Daphne, I know from a book in my past life that you're chasing the wrong secret entirely'? She'd have me sent to St. Mungo's. He had no proof, no way to explain his knowledge without revealing his greatest secret. For now, he had to play along.
His mind shifted to the immediate problem. Fluffy. He began cycling through the spells he knew, trying to find one that might distract the giant, three-headed dog. Music was the key, he remembered, but they didn't have a flute. He'd have to improvise.
Luckily, he mused, a small bit of relief amidst the tension, Fluffy is still just a kid, in terms of three-headed dogs. If it really was an adult Cerberus, we wouldn't even be able to see the trapdoor before getting torn into shreds.
The Grand Staircase was silent, the portraits of its former occupants snoring softly in their frames. Adam and Daphne moved as one, their footsteps muffled against the cold stone, their senses on high alert. The moonlight that streamed through the high windows served as their only guide, casting long, distorted shadows that seemed to twist and writhe at the edge of their vision.
They were nearing the second-floor landing when Adam, who was in the lead, suddenly stopped. He held out an arm, halting Daphne behind him. From around the corner ahead, a faint, cheerful humming could be heard, along with the soft, rhythmic tap... tap... tap of footsteps.
Their eyes met in the gloom, a shared look of silent panic. There was nowhere to run. Adam's gaze darted around and found their only chance: a massive, ornate stone pillar just a few feet away, its base shrouded in deep shadow.
Without a word, he grabbed Daphne's arm and pulled her with him, pressing them both into the small, dark space behind the pillar just as the diminutive form of Professor Flitwick came into view. The Charms Master trotted past their hiding spot, his humming cheerfully off-key, completely oblivious to the two first-years holding their breath just inches away.
They were pressed close together in the cramped space, the cold of the stone seeping through their robes. Adam could feel the warmth from Daphne's shoulder and could hear the faint, sharp intake of her breath as Flitwick's footsteps passed right by them. He stayed completely still, his heart pounding a steady rhythm against his ribs, until the professor's humming and footsteps had faded completely down the corridor.
Only then did they let out a quiet, simultaneous sigh of relief. They looked at each other, and in the dim light, Adam saw a flicker of grudging respect in her eyes. They were a good team.
They continued their ascent, finally reaching the forbidden third-floor corridor. The air here was different—colder, heavier, and thick with the dusty scent of disuse. A low, rumbling growl, so deep it was felt more than heard, seeped from under the heavy wooden door at the far end of the hall, a clear warning to all who dared to approach.
They stopped before the locked door. Adam remembered being here just last week, in a chaotic, hushed group with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. That time, it had been Daphne who had stepped forward in the moment of desperation, her wand steady, and whispered the Unlocking Charm. Adam had watched her wand movement, cataloged the incantation which had helped him learn this spell in just a few tries.
This time, before Daphne could even raise her wand, Adam stepped forward. With a smooth, seamless motion that felt both practiced and instinctual, he pointed his own wand at the lock.
"Alohomora," he whispered.
There was a soft click that sounded deafeningly loud in the silent, menacing corridor. The lock was open.
Adam lowered his wand but didn't move to open the door. He stood still before it, the deep growling from within vibrating through the soles of his shoes. He took in a big, steadying breath, the cool, dusty air filling his lungs, and then he turned and looked at Daphne, his expression serious, his eyes asking the silent question.
'Are you ready?'