why is that thing called fluffy?
Harry was *exhausted*.
It had become **painfully obvious** that the teachers weren’t going to do anything about the Philosopher’s Stone. If someone was after it—and Harry was *sure* they were—then it was up to him.
So, late at night, when the castle was quiet, he made his decision.
He was going to stop them.
What he *hadn’t* expected was for Draco, Ron, Hermione, and Nico to **immediately** decide they were coming too.
Ron had just crossed his arms. “No way you’re doing this alone, mate.”
Hermione huffed. “You’d get yourself killed without *some* proper planning.”
Draco had *dramatically* tossed his hair. “Please, Harry. As if I’d *let* you get all the glory.”
Nico had just sighed. “This is a terrible idea. Let’s go.”
And so, the five of them **crept through the castle**, hearts pounding, making their way towards the *forbidden* third-floor corridor.
As they reached the heavy wooden door, Draco smirked. “You know, this *is* technically breaking and entering.”
Ron rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, so is stealing a *magical artifact*, but that’s not stopping whoever’s after it.”
Harry took a deep breath, then pushed the door open—
**And came face to face with Fluffy.**
The **massive three-headed dog** was curled up, all three heads snoring loudly.
Draco, eyes wide, hissed, “*How is it asleep?*”
Nico pointed. “A harp. It’s enchanted.”
Hermione gasped. “That means—someone’s already here.”
Harry swallowed. There was no turning back now.
Steeling himself, he motioned to the others, and together, they stepped carefully towards the trapdoor.
Ron glanced at the dog. “How do we—”
Before he could finish, **Draco yanked the trapdoor open and jumped in.**
Harry *gaped*. “DRACO—”
A moment later, Draco’s voice **floated up from the darkness.**
“Well? *Are you coming or not?*”
Harry groaned. “I *hate* him.”
Then he jumped in after him.
As soon as Harry landed, he realized something was *very* wrong.
He was **sinking.**
Thick, writhing *vines* curled around his arms and legs, tightening the more he struggled.
Above him, Ron, Hermione, and Nico landed with soft *thuds*.
Then Ron **screamed**.
“*WHAT IS THIS—*”
Hermione gasped. “It’s **Devil’s Snare!** Don’t struggle, it’ll only tighten!”
Draco, already half-trapped, **froze**. “Are you telling me I’m being *attacked* by a glorified *houseplant*?”
Harry **stopped fighting** the vines, and sure enough, they loosened slightly. “Just relax—”
Draco *scoffed*. “*Relax?* I am being **strangled to death** in a *filthy underground dungeon*, *Potter*! I am *not* going to relax!”
Nico, completely still, **wasn’t** struggling at all. “Huh. It likes me.”
Harry *swore* the plant actually *was* avoiding Nico. Typical.
Ron, meanwhile, was **still panicking.**
“I CAN’T RELAX! I’M GOING TO DIE! I—”
“*Oh, for Merlin’s sake!*” Draco **yanked out his wand** and shouted, *“LUMOS SOLE—”*
But Hermione had already done it.
Bright, **golden light** filled the chamber.
The Devil’s Snare *shrieked* and **recoiled**, releasing them all instantly.
Harry gasped as he hit the stone floor.
Draco **collapsed dramatically** beside him. “I’m *never* touching a plant again.”
Ron groaned. “If we die down here, I’m going to haunt you, harry.”
Hermione dusted off her robes. “That’s *nothing* compared to what’s ahead.”
Nico just sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”
After escaping the Devil’s Snare, the group hurried down a dimly lit corridor and emerged into a vast chamber.
Above them, **hundreds of keys** with shimmering wings flitted through the air, reflecting the torchlight like little silver birds.
At the far end of the room stood a heavy **wooden door**, locked tight.
Draco groaned. “Oh, wonderful. More *nonsense.*”
Hermione scanned the room. “We have to find the right key. *Look for one that looks old.*”
Harry’s eyes narrowed as he examined the swarm. A single, **ancient-looking key** with a bent wing hovered near the top, flitting away from the others like it was *watching* them.
“There!” He pointed. “That’s the one!”
Ron paled. “Great. How are we supposed to *get* it?”
Draco smirked. “*We fly, obviously.*”
Nico blinked. “You say that like flying isn’t a *death trap.*”
But Harry was already running towards the **broomsticks** propped against the wall. He grabbed one, hopped on, and kicked off the ground.
Within seconds, he was soaring.
The moment he got close, the keys **reacted.**
With a sharp *whirring* noise, they swarmed towards him.
“*I hate this!*” he shouted, dodging wildly.
Draco grabbed a broom. “Merlin’s sake, Potter, do I have to do *everything?*” He shot into the air after him.
Ron shook his head. “This is a *terrible* idea.”
But he grabbed a broom and followed anyway.
As the three of them **dodged, twisted, and spun**, the enchanted keys **dove at them like tiny, vengeful wasps**.
Harry reached for the old key—*almost!*—but it darted away.
Draco sped after it, **fast and determined**, his hair whipping behind him.
“Potter! I’ll herd it towards you—just *catch* the bloody thing!”
Harry nodded, tightening his grip on his broom.
Draco **cut in front of the key**, startling it into changing direction.
Ron swerved in front of it, forcing it lower.
Harry lunged—
**Snatched it out of the air—**
And the keys *exploded* into a furious **swarm**, attacking from every direction.
“*DOWN!*” Draco shouted.
The boys **dove**, skidding to a halt as they landed.
Harry sprinted to the door, shoved the key into the lock, and twisted—
With a *click*, the door **swung open**.
“GO!” Hermione yelled, shoving them through before slamming the door behind them.
Panting, Harry looked at Draco.
Draco smirked, breathing hard. “*Told* you I was good at flying.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Show-off.”
Nico, watching them, sighed. “You two are exhausting.”
Hermione pointed at the dark passage ahead. “Well, *that* was only the second challenge. What *else* does this castle have for us?”
Ron groaned. “I don’t want to find out.”
But they stepped forward anyway.
The group stepped through the door and **froze.**
They were in a **massive** chamber, the floor laid out like a **chessboard.** On either side stood **towering, life-sized chess pieces**, their **stone faces eerily still**.
Ron’s jaw dropped. “This is **Wizard’s Chess.**”
Draco scoffed. “Brilliant deduction, *Weasley.*”
Ron ignored him, eyes scanning the board. “We have to play our way across.”
Harry’s stomach twisted. “You mean—”
“We have to *be* the pieces.”
A ripple of unease passed through the group.
Hermione frowned. “But how do we know it’s safe?”
As if in response, one of the stone **knights** suddenly **swung its sword**, shattering a **pawn** into rubble.
Nico blinked. “Oh. That’s how.”
Draco took a **step back.** “Absolutely not. I am not *dying* in some *ridiculous chess game*.”
Ron, however, looked **thoughtful.**
“I can do this,” he muttered. “I *have* to do this.”
Harry looked at him. “Ron—”
Ron took a deep breath. “We need to take the place of pieces. I’ll be the **knight**.” He turned to the others. “Harry, Draco, you’re bishops. Hermione, you’re the queen.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Oh, *obviously* she gets the best piece.”
Hermione **ignored him.** “What about Nico?”
Ron hesitated. “Er… Nico, do you play chess?”
Nico tilted his head. “Not really.”
“Great. You can be a **rook**.”
Nico shrugged. “Fine.”
The group **stepped** into position, and the game **began.**
The **chess pieces moved on their own**, each turn precise and **merciless**. Ron **commanded the board**, shouting strategies and directing them across the squares.
At one point, a **massive rook** tried to **take Draco**, but Harry *yanked* him out of the way just in time.
Draco, still breathless, **glared.** “I hate chess.”
“I hate you,” Harry shot back, grinning.
“Not *now,* you two!” Hermione snapped.
As the game progressed, it became clear what Ron was doing.
He was setting up a **sacrifice.**
Ron **gritted his teeth.** “I have to let the queen take me.”
Harry’s stomach **dropped.** “No, Ron, there has to be another way—”
“There *isn’t!*” Ron shouted. “It’s the only way to **checkmate.**”
Before anyone could stop him, Ron **stepped forward.**
The **queen’s sword came down—**
With a sickening *crack*, Ron crumpled to the ground.
“RON!” Hermione **screamed.**
But Ron was **still breathing.**
“Checkmate,” he whispered before passing out.
The pieces froze. Then, slowly, the **king toppled over.**
The game was **won.**
Harry rushed to Ron’s side. “He’ll be okay,” he muttered, trying to convince himself.
Nico knelt beside him, pressing two fingers to Ron’s wrist. “He’s alive.”
Draco dusted himself off. “That was *ridiculous.* I never want to see another chessboard *again.*”
Hermione swallowed hard. “We have to keep going.”
Harry nodded. “Let’s finish this.”
And with one last glance at Ron, they **moved on.**
The next room smelled **awful.**
As soon as they stepped inside, a **low growl** rumbled through the chamber.
Harry **froze.**
Draco **groaned.** “Oh, *brilliant.* Another *one?*”
Standing before them, **even bigger than the last one**, was another **mountainous troll.**
Pansy would’ve screamed if she were here, Harry thought absently.
Nico sighed. “I’m really tired of these things.”
The troll **snorted**, gripping its massive club.
Hermione grabbed Harry’s sleeve. “We can’t fight it—we barely managed last time!”
Harry **agreed**. The last time they’d fought a troll, it had taken six of them, **and** it had nearly crushed them anyway.
“New plan,” he whispered. “*Run.*”
But before they could move, the troll **charged.**
The ground **shook** beneath its weight.
“Bloody hell!” Draco yelped, jumping backward.
The troll **swung its club—**
Hermione barely **dodged** in time. The club **slammed** into the floor, shaking the room so violently that dust fell from the ceiling.
Draco shot Harry a *look.* “*This* was your idea?”
“You have a *better* one?”
Draco huffed. “Actually, yes.” He turned to Nico. “*Shadow-travel it somewhere else!*”
Nico paled. “Are you *mad?* That thing is twice my size—I could barely move *Weasley.*”
The troll **roared**, stepping closer.
“Then we need another distraction—” Hermione started, but Draco had already stepped forward.
He **raised his wand**.
“*Stupefy!*”
The spell **hit the troll square in the chest.**
It **staggered**, but remained standing.
Draco blinked. “Okay, that should’ve worked.”
Harry sighed. “Of course it didn’t.”
The troll **snarled**, raising its club again—
Nico **moved fast.**
His **shadow lengthened**, curling around him, and for a second, Harry thought he saw something **dark and skeletal flicker behind him.**
Then, suddenly—
The **troll’s own shadow wrapped around its legs.**
The creature **stumbled**, confusion flickering in its beady eyes as it tried to move.
Nico’s jaw was clenched. “Hurry. I can’t hold this forever.”
“On it!” Harry raised his wand. “*Wingardium Leviosa!*”
Hermione, already prepared, **chimed in with him.**
The **club lifted** from the troll’s grip.
Draco, catching on, **grinned.** “You know what? Let’s *drop* it on him.”
Harry nodded.
With a final flick—
The **club came crashing down.**
The troll **collapsed** with a *thud*, completely **knocked out.**
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then—
Draco smirked. “Well. That was *satisfying.*”
Nico exhaled, rubbing his temples. “I need a vacation.”
Hermione straightened her robes. “*Now* can we move on?”
Harry, still catching his breath, nodded. “Yeah. Before it wakes up.”
And so, **they ran**.
The next chamber was **dark** and **silent**—except for the **row of bottles** neatly arranged on a table in the center.
A wall of **black fire** blocked the way forward. Behind them, a wall of **purple fire** sealed the exit.
“We’re trapped,” Hermione breathed.
Draco groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Fantastic. First, we almost *die* in a chess match, and now we’re locked in a room *with no exit.*”
Nico folded his arms. “There’s always a way out.”
Harry glanced at the table. A **parchment** lay beside the bottles. He picked it up and read aloud:
*"Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind..."*
As he continued, Hermione’s face **lit up.**
“It’s a riddle!” she exclaimed. “A logic puzzle!”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Oh, *lovely.* Now we have to *think* our way out of danger.”
Nico smirked. “That *is* usually the hardest part for you, Malfoy.”
Draco gasped. “I’ll have you know I’m *brilliant.*”
Harry rolled his eyes and focused on the riddle. “So... two bottles are important: one lets you move forward, and one takes you back.”
Hermione scanned the bottles, deep in thought. “It’s a logic puzzle. There’s always an answer.”
Draco leaned against the table. “Or, you know, we could just *not* go through the *literal fire.*”
Harry ignored him. “Alright, which one is it?”
Hermione pointed to a **tiny bottle.** “That’s the one that lets someone go forward.”
Harry nodded. “But there’s only enough for one person.”
Draco scoffed. “Oh, how *convenient.*”
Hermione handed another bottle to Draco. “This one takes you back. You and Nico take Ron and go get help.”
Nico frowned. “You want me to babysit Malfoy?”
Draco **gasped.** “*Excuse* you—if anything, *I’m* babysitting *you.*”
Harry sighed. “*Please* don’t start.”
Nico crossed his arms. “Fine. But if Malfoy whines, I’m leaving him in the chess room.”
Draco flipped his hair. “*I* do not *whine.*”
Hermione ignored them and turned to Harry. “Drink the potion. We’ll follow when we can.”
Harry nodded, took a **deep breath**, and **drank.**
The potion was **icy cold** as it slid down his throat.
He turned to Draco, who, for once, looked... worried.
“Don’t die, Potter,” Draco muttered.
Harry smirked. “You sound concerned.”
Draco huffed. “Obviously. I *just* got you. I’m *not* losing you now.”
Harry’s heart warmed, but he just nodded and stepped through the **black flames.**
And then, he was **gone.**