The Path Clears.
The stone corridor stretched before him, swallowed in darkness.
Harry’s pulse was steady. His breath even. He had walked through shadows far worse than this.
He pushed open the door.
And there it was.
The three-headed dog.
It was massive, a beast carved from nightmares, its three sets of gleaming eyes snapping toward him the second he entered.
A deep, rumbling growl filled the chamber.
Harry clenched his fists. He braced himself—
And then—
Silence.
The growl stopped.
The dog’s muscles, once coiled to attack, went rigid.
The middle head let out a soft, confused whimper.
Then—
All three heads lowered.
Ears flat. Tails tucked.
Like an animal sensing a predator far, far worse than itself.
Harry didn’t move.
Neither did the dog.
Then—shaking, nearly tripping over itself—the beast backed away.
Step by step. Until it was pressed against the farthest wall, refusing to meet his gaze.
Harry swallowed.
Fine.
He turned.
And stepped onto the trapdoor.
The dog didn’t move.
Not even when he fell through.
---
Devil’s Snare
Harry barely had time to register the fall before something caught him.
Thick, rope-like vines snapped around his limbs.
He didn’t panic.
Not at first.
He knew what this was.
Devil’s Snare.
It was a living thing. A plant with instinct.
It fed on fear. On struggle.
On—
Harry stilled.
The moment he did, the vines shuddered.
Then—
They writhed.
Not in hunger. Not in anticipation.
In fear.
A horrible, breathless hiss filled the air, almost like the plant itself had gasped.
And then—
It let go.
It didn’t loosen.
It didn’t slowly recoil.
It snapped away from him.
Like it had touched something it should not have touched.
Harry dropped onto the stone floor below.
He exhaled.
---
The next chamber held the flying keys.
The moment he entered, the wings of hundreds of rusted, fluttering keys froze midair.
And then—a frenzy.
A flurry of motion as the tiny, metallic creatures scattered like startled birds.
Harry didn’t need to chase them.
The correct key—the large, ancient one with the broken wing—was already on the floor.
Still. Still and unmoving.
He picked it up.
The moment his fingers closed around the handle, the rest of the keys vanished into the darkness.
---
The chess pieces did not fight him.
They did not speak.
They did not move.
They simply stood—watching—as Harry crossed the board uncontested.
The white queen clutched her staff with trembling fingers.
The king did not even attempt to block his path.
When Harry reached the other side, the pieces bowed their heads.
And let him pass.
---
This was the only one he couldn’t simply walk through.
Harry frowned, eyes scanning the parchment on the table.
He read. Re-read.
Then, carefully, he picked up the smallest bottle.
Drank.
Cold fire rushed through his body.
Harry exhaled, stepping forward—
And through the flames.
And then—
There was nothing left but the final door.