Harry and Ron seized the mont, pushing off with their feet and rushing out before the Devil's Snare vines could wrap around them tightly again.
Realizing they were safe, the two imdiately turned back and shouted to Hermione:
"Hermione, stop struggling! The more you struggle, the more excited it gets!"
"Just stay still and it will let you go!"
"I can't do it!"
Hermione replied frantically, her voice already carrying a sob:
"Sherlock, I rember now! It likes dark, damp environnts. Quick—get rid of it!"
"Dark and damp—"
Sherlock looked at the already flustered Hermione and couldn't help but sigh.
Her ability to handle pressure in ergency situations still needed further improvent.
"Incendio!"
As Sherlock recited the spell, blue flas danced and shot out from the tip of his wand.
The scattered flas carried scorching heat, and as soon as they appeared, they dispelled all the thick, ink-like darkness around them.
As the surrounding environnt was illuminated, the Devil's Snare vines recoiled like they had encountered their natural enemy, retreating like a tide.
The vines that had been tightly wrapped around Hermione also loosened one by one, abandoning their entanglent with her.
Hermione, having regained her freedom, stumbled forward uncontrollably and fell directly into Sherlock's arms.
Although Sherlock caught Hermione, he felt sothing was strange.
Because even at this mont, Hermione in his arms was still trembling continuously.
Why was her reaction even stronger than when she encountered the troll last ti?
A re Devil's Snare—with Hermione's knowledge and courage, she shouldn't have been frightened to this extent, should she?
Harry and Ron exchanged glances, their faces full of confusion.
Although this plant was indeed troubleso, and it had nearly suffocated Harry just monts ago—he still felt lingering fear—Hermione's reaction seed sowhat exaggerated.
After another mont, Hermione finally managed to stabilize her emotions and erged from Sherlock's arms with a red face.
"Thank you."
She said softly, her voice as quiet as a mosquito.
Thank goodness Sherlock was there, preventing her from embarrassing herself even more.
However, Sherlock looked at her with a serious expression:
"My friend, you're still holding your wand in your hand—since you already knew that Devil's Snare prefers dark, damp environnts, I believe you could have easily thought to burn it with fire."
"I did think of it, but I was thinking there's no firewood here—"
Hermione's voice grew smaller and smaller, becoming almost inaudible by the end.
Sherlock: (─‿─)
Harry: (•_•) |
Ron: (╯°□°）╯
The three wore various expressions, but finally Ron couldn't suppress his overwhelming urge to complain:
"Are you mad? Are you even a witch or not!"
"'There's no firewood here'—what kind of talk is that!"
Sherlock: ←_←
Harry: →_→
Seeing the three's expressions, Hermione clenched her fists tightly, her cheeks turning crimson, and said defiantly: "Go ahead and laugh if you want to, don't hold back."
As soon as she said this, Ron imdiately burst into laughter: "Hahahahaha!"
He laughed so hard he was doubled over, unable to straighten his body.
Harry perford slightly better, covering his mouth with one hand, trying to hide his amusent.
Sherlock didn't laugh, but his gaze toward Hermione beca increasingly strange, his eyes narrowing slightly as if pondering sothing.
Seeing Ron's continuous laughter, Hermione imdiately glared at him fiercely, her eyes seeming ready to laser fire.
Under her stare, Ron's laughter gradually diminished, and he simply turned his back.
But from the way his shoulders kept shaking, it was obvious he was struggling hard to contain himself.
Seeing this scene, Sherlock shook his head, raised his arm to point forward, and said: "This way."
There was no need to spend ti looking for a path, as there was only this one stone corridor ahead.
Sherlock led the way, with Hermione and Harry following closely behind, and Ron bringing up the rear.
The corridor was filled with a damp, moldy sll, and the walls were covered with green moss.
The four walked down the sloping stone corridor, with only the sound of their footsteps and water droplets slowly dripping down the walls.
The drip-drop sounds echoed in the silent space, like a monotonous lody.
At this point, Hermione had finally cald down and asked, "Why did you co down without waiting for ?"
"Ti waits for no one."
Sherlock, walking at the front, said without turning back, "We finally waited for Dumbledore to leave, and Quirrell definitely won't pass up this opportunity. Our goal is to draw the snake out of its hole—we can't really let the snake take the bait away."
He paused here, "We need muscle, so Ron ca along too."
"Alright, you're right."
Hermione said glumly: "I still couldn't see Professor Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall said he had already gone to the Ministry of Magic—she didn't believe Quirrell would steal the Philosopher's Stone at all, and said not to spread words that harm unity—"
"Pfft~!"
"What are you laughing at?"
Hermione imdiately looked at Ron with an unfriendly expression.
Ron coughed: "Nothing—I just suddenly rembered sothing happy."
Hermione glared at him fiercely and continued speaking to Sherlock:
"Professor McGonagall said that although she won't punish this ti, next ti she'll not only deduct points but also give detention—I've never had detention before, it's so embarrassing—"
"Pfft~!"
"Ronald! You've gone too far, I've been tolerating you for a long ti!"
"I rembered sothing happy."
"You're clearly laughing at , you haven't stopped!"
"Ron, Hermione, stop arguing—"
Harry's diation had no effect until Sherlock spoke: "Quiet!"
He turned around, his gaze sweeping across the three faces: "All of you shut up, you're interrupting my thinking!"
The four continued forward in silence, their footsteps echoing in the damp corridor, the atmosphere was so oppressive it was almost suffocating.
Finally, they reached the end of the corridor, and a brightly lit room suddenly appeared before them.
Under the high, arched ceiling, countless birds as brilliant as jewels fluttered their wings, flying around joyfully.
Their gorgeous colors and graceful movents seed to transform the entire room into a dreamlike world.
Having just experienced that dark environnt, the four were montarily stunned by this sudden sight.
After a mont, Harry murmured: "These aren't birds, they're keys that Professor Flitwick has enchanted."
There was a hint of surprise and realization in his voice.
Since Sherlock had done his howork beforehand, and this happened to be sothing Harry was good at, he imdiately understood.
"But which one is the one we need?"
Ron couldn't help but ask.
His eyes were full of confusion—finding the target among these hundreds of keys was like looking for a needle in a haystack.
Hermione quickly walked to the door, bending down to carefully examine the lock, trying to find so clues.
"Um, I think it might be a silver key—and quite large."
She murmured quietly while observing.
"Catch!"
Just then, Sherlock had already grabbed a flying broomstick from beside the locked door and threw it cleanly to Harry.
Seeing this, Ron's face imdiately lit up with excitent, and he said loudly:
"Harry, you're the Seeker—it's all up to you now!"
Hermione looked up in surprise, her eyes full of disbelief: "Sherlock, you've already found it?"
You know there were hundreds of keys here—even careful searching might not guarantee finding it. How did Sherlock manage it?
"Sherlock?"
Harry was equally puzzled. He was indeed a Seeker, but first he needed to see the target!
"Get ready."
Sherlock simply said one sentence, then quickly drew his wand and pointed it at the flock of birds: "Accio door key!"
The next mont, they saw a key shoot toward them like an arrow from a bow with a "whoosh."
Just as Hermione had said, this was a huge silver key, glowing with a sky-blue light and particularly conspicuous among the many keys.
As the key drew closer to them, its appearance beca clearer and clearer.
Its wings drooped to one side, as if telling the story of its past ordeal.
They could even imagine it being caught and roughly shoved into a keyhole.
However, even though it was controlled by Sherlock's spell, it was still struggling hard, and its struggling speed was getting faster and its strength greater.
Obviously, relying solely on Sherlock's one spell to deal with this key was sowhat inadequate.
If they didn't take action soon, it would fly away.
After all, this was a chanism personally arranged by their Charms professor—it was already quite remarkable that Sherlock could successfully cast a spell to summon it.
But Sherlock had anticipated this and arranged a backup plan in advance.
Harry now understood what he needed to do.
Although he was riding just an ordinary broomstick, he still demonstrated the skill of being the youngest Seeker in a century.
Harry squeezed his legs hard, and the flying broomstick suddenly accelerated, shooting out like a streak of black lightning.
Amid a harsh, unpleasant screeching sound, Harry successfully pinned the key against the stone wall.
Ron couldn't help but whistle, his face glowing with excitent: "Harry, well done!"
"Thanks to Sherlock's Summoning Charm, otherwise I couldn't have caught it so quickly."
Harry jumped down from the broomstick, excitedly using the key to open the door while saying without looking up.
"That's right, I thought we'd all need to ride broomsticks together to block it, hahaha—"
Ron was laughing foolishly when Hermione suddenly said: "Ronald, are you even a wizard or not?"
(￣ー￣)
Won sure know how to hold grudges!
Mates are better!
With a soft "click," the door was opened by Harry.
Almost the instant they stepped into the room, the previously pitch-black room suddenly beca brightly lit.
The blinding light made them instinctively squint.
If it were just that, it would be fine, but after entering, they found themselves standing beside a giant chessboard.
Standing before the four were black chess pieces taller than themselves, while at the other end of the room were white pieces of the sa size and shape.
"Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration—"
Harry looked at Sherlock sowhat gratefully.
Thanks to his good friend, he had ntal preparation in advance and wasn't frightened into trembling when seeing these faceless, eerily terrifying chess pieces.
On the way here, Harry had briefly told Ron about the trials they would encounter.
So now he couldn't help but look at Sherlock and share his thoughts:
"It seems we need to play chess to get to the other room—Sherlock, what do you think?"
"Let's try first."
Sherlock pondered briefly, then cast a spell toward the white pieces on the opposite side:
"Confringo!"
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