Effervescence | h.p.

i | xxxxvi. show yourself

A few seconds following Lyra's Body-Binding of Neville, they were there, outside the third-floor corridor — and the door was already ajar.

"Well, there you are," Harry said quietly, "Snape's already got past Fluffy."

Seeing the open door seemed to somehow impress upon the four what was facing them. Underneath the Cloak, Harry turned to the others.

"If you want to go back, I won't blame you," he said. "You can take the Cloak, we won't need it now," he said, motioning to Lyra and himself.

"Don't be stupid," said Ron.

"We're coming," said Hermione.

Lyra pushed open the door.

As the door creaked, low, rumbling growls met their ears. All three of the dog's noses sniffed madly in their direction, even though it couldn't see them.

"What's that at its feet?" Hermione whispered.

"Looks like a harp," said Ron. "Snape must have left it there."

"It must wake up the moment you stop playing," said Lyra. "Well, here goes . . . "

She put the flute Hagrid had made up to her lips and released a breath. It let out a smooth, soft note, not really forming a tune. But regardless, from the single note so far, the beast's eyes began to droop. Lyra hardly drew a breath. Slowly, the dog's growling ceased — it tottered on its paws and fell to its knees, then it slumped to the ground, fast asleep.

"Keep playing," Ron warned Lyra as they slipped out of the Cloak and crept toward the trapdoor. They could feel the dog's hot, smelly breath as they approached the giant heads.

"I think we'll be able to pull the door open," said Ron, peering over the dog's back. "Want to go first, Hermione?"

"No, I don't!"

"All right." Ron gritted his teeth and stepped carefully over the dog's legs. He bent and pulled the ring of the trapdoor, which let out a squeal as it swung up and open.

"What can you see?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"Nothing — just black — there's no way of climbing down, we'll just have to drop," said Harry, looking down the hole.

"I'll go first," said Harry confidently after a few moments of nothing but the sound of Lyra's flute.

"Are you sure? We don't know how deep this thing goes," said Ron.

Harry nodded in confirmation, climbing over the dog and looking down through the trapdoor. There was no sign of a bottom.

He lowered himself through the hole until he was hanging on by his fingertips. Then he looked up at Ron and Hermione and said, "If anything happens to me, don't follow. Go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, right?"

"Right," said Ron.

"See you in a minute, I hope. . . . "

And Harry let go. Cold, damp air rushed past him as he fell down, down, down and —

FLUMP. With a funny, muffled sort of thump he landed on something soft. He sat up and felt around, his eyes not used to the gloom. It felt as though he was sitting on some sort of plant.

"It's okay!" he called up to the light the size of a postage stamp, which was the open trapdoor, "it's a soft landing, you can jump!"

Ron followed right away. He landed, sprawled next to Harry.

"What's this stuff?" were his first words.

"Dunno, some sort of plant thing. I suppose it's here to break the fall. Come on, Hermione!"