Chapter 43: Entering the Passage
"This isn't a good sign," Ron muttered under his breath. They had barely stepped outside, yet trouble had already piled up. Things likely wouldn't go smoothly from here on out.
"The arrow's already on the string—there's no turning back now," George said with a frown. Since he'd decided to act, this was no time for hesitation.
The four of them steadied themselves and carefully pushed open the door that held the three-headed dog, Lu Wei. The old wooden door creaked loudly, followed by a low, rumbling growl. The massive dog sniffed the air, its three heads turning in their direction.
"There's a harp by its feet," Hermione whispered nervously, clutching the corner of her robe.
"Snape's been here already," Harry said quickly, his thoughts racing. "He passed through and left the harp behind."
"Harry, don't waste time. Play the flute. I'll go down first," George urged impatiently. He didn't like dogs—especially not one this huge. Muttering a few curses under his breath, he pressed Harry to act.
Snapped back to reality by George's tone, Harry didn't dare compare George to Lu Wei in his mind. He immediately began playing the flute nonstop.
The melody was a little off-key and far from pleasant, but Lu Wei seemed to love it. As the music drifted through the room, the dog's six eyes drooped, slowly closing. Harry hardly dared to breathe. The growling faded, then stopped entirely.
With a soft thump, the massive creature swayed, collapsed to the ground, and fell asleep.
"Keep playing. Don't stop for a second," George said, gesturing to Harry. He cast protective charms over everyone, then added an extra binding spell on the three-headed dog, just in case its magic resisted or flared up. After a brief pause, he strode toward the trapdoor.
George opened it and peered inside before turning back to warn the others. "There's a slide down there. It's very deep—can't see a thing. I'll go first. Once I land safely, I'll call for you."
His gaze swept over Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "When I signal, Ron goes next. Then Hermione. Harry—don't stop playing the flute. You're last."
Ron nodded and stepped to the opening, watching George disappear into the darkness. He stared fixedly into the hole, though it was pitch-black and revealed nothing.
After a moment, a faint light appeared from below, along with George's voice. "It's safe!"
Ron followed, then Hermione. Finally came Harry—don't grab me, I'll catch you, George called from below.
Ron turned and gestured to Hermione and Harry. "George says it's safe. Follow me. After I go down, Hermione goes next, then Harry. Quickly." Without waiting for a reply, Ron slid into the hole.
Hermione hurried after him, and the two of them vanished down the slide. At last, only Harry remained. He clenched the flute between his teeth and jumped.
Ron slid rapidly downward, cold, damp air rushing past his ears and raising goosebumps all over his body. He felt weightless, just like during George's training sessions. Then—just like back then—
Thud!
He slammed hard into the ground. One thought flashed through his mind: The training field floor was much softer.
Before he could stand up, something soft crashed down on top of him.
"Oof!" he groaned.
Hermione, tense and flustered, had come right after him. The moment she landed, she felt as though she'd stepped on something—and then a large hand pulled her up.
"Alright, don't linger near the opening. Harry's coming down next," George said, guiding Hermione aside and letting Ron scramble to his feet.
"That's unfair treatment!" Ron complained immediately after standing up. "She stepped on me for ages!"
Harry dropped down moments later. Above them, a loud bark echoed—the three-headed dog was waking up.
Harry sat up and touched the soft ground beneath him. It felt like some kind of plant. "What is this?"
"Harry, don't sit down. That's Devil's Snare," George said calmly. Once everyone was safely down, he waved his wand. A streak of orange-red flame flared to life, glowing like the first light of dawn.
In the firelight, they realized that without noticing, their feet—and even parts of their bodies—had been wrapped in thick, twisting vines of varying size.
"How can something like this exist?!" Hermione cried, her face pale.
The thick vines lay coiled around them like giant pythons. Only when George summoned the fire did the horrifying "snakes" react—hissing as they recoiled from the light and heat, retreating like a tide. The eerie sight sent a chill through the children.
"Devil's Snare thrives in dark, damp places and fears light and heat," George said evenly. "It isn't violent by nature. It prefers to bind its victims—to capture them alive rather than kill them."
His tone was calm, without the slightest ripple, but the breath of his words felt like the cold wind rushing down the slide, sending shivers through the three children. For the first time, they truly understood what kind of fear and danger lay behind a real adventure.
The orange-red flame flickered carefully, like a miniature sun. In its glow, George's calm, resolute face looked like a statue carved by a blade.
The three small figures exchanged glances, seeing trust and resolve reflected in one another's eyes. For a moment, the scene froze—like an illustration on an ancient scroll.
"We'll get the Philosopher's Stone and defeat Voldemort!" Harry's eyes burned with fierce determination. He had dragged his friends into this—he had no choice. He had to win. He must win.
"We uncovered Snape's plot and exposed that mysterious person," Hermione added, listing their victories to strengthen everyone's resolve. "We beat the three-headed dog and overcame Devil's Snare."
"We'll protect the school. We'll protect everyone," Ron said, brimming with heroic spirit.
"Let's go," George said, their enthusiasm infecting him as well.
George took the lead, with Harry and Hermione in the middle and Ron at the rear. Linked together from front to back, the four of them moved slowly forward along the only stone corridor ahead.
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