"The Golden Trial and the Queen of Blades"
The group crossed the door with caution.
The moment they stepped over the threshold, the torches along the walls flared to life one after another, illuminating a space vast enough to rival the Great Hall of Hogwarts. Unlike the Great Hall, however, the place was completely empty… save for a single presence at its center: a white marble pedestal, and atop it, a golden chalice inlaid with gems that gleamed under the light.
The silence was heavy. Everyone glanced around, a little confused, and began approaching the pedestal with their wands ready. Each step was measured, each shadow examined, as if at any moment a hidden trap might be triggered.
But nothing happened.
Too quiet.
And for them, that was worse.
Harry couldn't stop thinking about the two golems he had fought earlier. If there was nothing guarding the chalice here, the lack of danger was almost a threat in itself. They circled the pedestal, and up close the magic felt like an invisible breeze radiating directly from the empty cup.
"What do you think it is?" Daphne asked, eyeing the object with interest. The cup seemed ancient, steeped in a power that made the skin prickle.
"Whatever it is, I doubt it's the exit," said Harry, who had already stepped away from Red's side. He adjusted his enchanted glasses to analyze the chalice, but the saturation of magic distorted his vision and prevented him from getting clear data.
"Let's search the surroundings. Otherwise, we'll be stuck here until someone notices we're missing," suggested Hermione, her tone a mix of seriousness and concern.
They all nodded and began exploring the room.
Nothing.
The walls were smooth, without markings or inscriptions; the floor and ceiling just as pristine. The only thing out of place was the chalice—too conspicuous not to be a trap. And yet… nothing triggered.
"We have to touch it, right?" Draco said with a resigned look.
"Maybe it's a Portkey that'll take us somewhere else," Hermione added.
"Yeah… probably," Harry replied, sounding annoyed.
"But why make such an over-the-top Portkey that radiates so much magic?" Sirius interjected, frowning.
"So… do we risk it?" Daphne asked, glancing at them all.
"By the way, godfather… what did you tell our parents we'd be doing today?" Harry asked suddenly.
"Well… I told them I was taking you to visit some Muggle businesses, so you could see the difference with our world. And that we might be back by nightfall," Sirius answered with a faint smile, scratching the back of his head.
"Then we just have to wait until nightfall. They'll realize something's wrong by then," Hermione said with a sigh.
"Better that way. I don't want to end up in a death trap," Harry added.
"I'm with you. Honestly, we didn't learn enough at Hogwarts to defend ourselves against something serious," Draco said seriously.
Sirius didn't argue, accepting the decision.
"Then… we just wait," Daphne concluded, sitting on the floor with a sigh.
But at that moment, the whole place shook for a few seconds. They all raised their wands, tense.
An instant passed… and nothing else happened.
"Guys…" Daphne said suddenly.
When they turned toward her, they saw her holding the chalice, as if it had just appeared in her hands. One of the gems began to glow… and in a blink, Daphne vanished.
Sirius, who was closest, tried to grab her but only managed to catch Daphne's whip.
"Daphne!" they all shouted.
"We have to go after her," Harry said without hesitation, grabbing the chalice. Another gem lit up… and he vanished too.
The others looked at each other and, without a word, nodded. One by one, they touched the chalice, and each time a different gem glowed.
Harry appeared in the middle of darkness. Slowly, the torches around him began to light up, revealing a long corridor whose walls were covered in cuts, as if invisible swords had slashed through them again and again.
"Guys!" he called, but there was no answer—only the echo of his own voice… and the uncomfortable certainty that he was not alone.
Harry clenched his jaw, tightened his grip on his wand, and muttered with restrained anger,
"Damn it… next time I'm making so many grenades I'll blow to pieces any stupid place that tries to trap us."
The sound of his footsteps echoed in the corridor as he began to move forward, carefully examining every cut in the walls as if expecting something to emerge from them at any moment.
Daphne landed in a similar corridor.
She looked around, pressing her lips together.
"Oh, no… if I die here, Mom will kill me," she muttered dryly, drawing her wand. Though her words carried worry, the spark of curiosity in her eyes remained intact.
Draco appeared elsewhere, rubbing his head with a weary expression.
"At this point, I probably should've learned some Muggle martial arts… We're wizards and we don't even know enough spells to save our own skins. I hope the next school actually teaches us something useful, or I'm going to be mad," he said, starting forward at a slow pace.
Hermione materialized in another section.
"Harry, Daphne, Draco, Sirius… Oh, no. Why do we always end up in trouble?" she murmured, scanning her surroundings with growing unease.
Then her eyes landed on a familiar figure: a small red dragon staring back at her with an expression… frankly ridiculous.
"Red!" Hermione exclaimed, running to hug him in relief. "Thank goodness I'm not alone."
The dragon wriggled to break free, and as soon as he was loose, he darted off down the corridor.
"Red, wait for me!" Hermione shouted, sprinting after him so she wouldn't be left behind.
—
"I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead…" Sirius repeated to himself as his body surged forward, transformed into a trail of thick, fast-moving white smoke, twisting and coiling through the corridor as if it meant to devour the very air. The muffled roar of magical displacement echoed against the walls, but his gaze—hidden within the whirlwind—was heavy with worry.
Having the kids at his side, where he could watch over them and keep them safe, was one thing… but scattered in different places? That was another matter entirely.
Now he was truly worried. He realized his mistake… and something even worse: the mothers of those children were going to kill him.
He pushed forward at full speed, not noticing that, the deeper he went, the walls around him were filling with deep slashes, as if invisible swords had torn through them countless times. His focus was entirely on finding an exit.
And then he saw it.
A change in the light.
The end of the hallway.
He accelerated even more, and in a breath he burst into a dark chamber. The torches lit one by one, revealing a sight that made him stop in his tracks.
The entire floor was covered in gold: stacked ingots, ancient coins, and, scattered among them, swords, spears, axes, and armor, all forged from the same gleaming metal. Golden columns rose toward the ceiling like the pillars of a lost temple, and in the center, dominating the room, stood a colossal throne of solid gold.
Sirius scanned the place and noticed several exits identical to the passageway he'd entered through. Instinct told him the others would emerge from one of them, so he sighed and began to approach the nearest.
But he'd barely taken a step when the gold beneath his feet stirred.
First, a faint tremor… then the metal began to melt into a thick liquid that moved as though it had a will of its own. The scattered weapons and armor started to assemble themselves, piece by piece, locking together with a hollow metallic clank.
Within seconds, dozens of golden golems took shape, their helmets lit by a red glow that made them look like canned demons. In unison, they raised their swords in a martial gesture, like a perfectly synchronized royal guard.
And then he saw her.
Seated upon the throne, as if she had always been there, was a woman of overwhelming presence. Her hair—red as liquid fire—cascaded down beneath her feet, branching across the floor like veins of blood, encircling the throne in a macabre embrace. Her face was dangerously beautiful, sharpened by a mocking smile. Her eyes, entirely black, took nothing away from that hypnotic allure.
She wore a dark ceremonial robe, belted at the waist with black leather. Blackened rings gleamed on her fingers, and on her right wrist was a bracelet shaped like a golden scorpion. Resting against her chest hung a pendant shaped like a crimson stinger, identical in color to her hair.
The golems formed a wall before her, as if guarding their queen.
Sirius looked them over, raised a finger, and said with a half-smile,
"You know… if I didn't have so many traumas with redheads, you'd be exactly my type."
The woman narrowed her eyes, fixing her dark gaze on Sirius.
"Is this how mortals beg for mercy now?" she asked suddenly, her calm tone at odds with the weight of her words.
"Ah… sorry. I usually just say the first thing that comes to mind," Sirius replied with apparent ease. His hand, however, never once loosened its grip on his wand. The molten gold kept flowing across the floor, slowly shaping itself into more figures—more golems.
"You arrived before the trial could begin," she went on, studying him with the patience of an executioner deciding on the method. "I don't know what I should do with you… kill you myself or… give you the chance to try."
"Trial?" Sirius repeated, frowning.
The woman didn't answer. She snapped her fingers, and the new golems, still steaming from the heat of the metal, began to march off, each taking a different entrance to the chamber.
"Only the one who reaches me alive will have the chance to face me," she finally said, smiling with a mix of mockery and challenge.
Sirius' eyes widened and he immediately raised his wand.
"Bombarda Maxima!" he shouted.
Nothing. Not a spark. He stared at his wand, astonished, as if he didn't understand what he was seeing.
"Ah, that," the woman said with a half-smile. "Magic can't be used in this chamber. One of the reasons you're still breathing… a gift from the wizards who reached this place before you. It's also the reason I'm trapped here. I can only send my subjects—those I mold with my own hands—to kill you… or bring you to me so I can do it myself."
Sirius clenched his jaw.
"As always… wizards without magic are nothing," she added with a faint gesture. The golems surrounding her advanced with their heavy swords raised, their steps echoing like war drums through the hall.
For a moment, Sirius glanced toward the other passageways, where more golems were dispersing. Then, something came to mind, and a slow smile spread across his face.
"I'm sure those brats forgot," he muttered to himself. "But… do you think their families would let them out without protections? I'm willing to bet even their underwear has more defensive enchantments than my own house."
His smile widened as he uncoiled the whip he'd taken from Daphne.
"That's why I've been so calm since we got here."