The Weasley of Slytherin: The Philosopher's Stone

Chapter 24: Keys, Chess, and Wolves

"Oh, right!" said Hermione, and she whipped out her wand, waved it, muttered something, and sent a jet of the same bluebell flames she had used on Snape at the plant.

In a matter of seconds, the vines loosened its grip on Harry and Ron, as they cringed away from the light and warmth. Wriggling and flailing, it unraveled itself from their bodies, and they were able to pull free.

"Lucky you pay attention in Herbology, Hermione," said Harry as he joined her by the wall, wiping sweat off his face.

"Yeah," said Ron, "and lucky Harry doesn't lose his head in a crisis — 'there's no wood,' honestly."

"Quick thinking with the knife (Y/n), you're welcome (Y/n), yeah you really got us out a close one there (Y/n) I owe you one. Man does it feel good to be appreciated." I said talking to myself.

"This way," said Harry, pointing down a stone passageway, which was the only way forward.
All we could hear apart from our footsteps was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls.

The passageway began to slope downward, as the floor got steeper.

"Can you hear something?" Ron whispered.

A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up ahead. "Do you think it's a ghost?" Ron asked.

"I don't know... sounds like wings to me." I replied craning my neck to hear better.

"There's light ahead — I can see something moving."

We reached the end of the passageway and saw before us a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door.

"Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?" said Ron.

"I can try and stab them." I suggested brandishing the knife still in my hand.

"They don't look very vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once... well, there's no other choice... I'll run." Harry said.

He took a deep breath, covered his face with his arms, and sprinted across the room. We waited with baited breath for the birds to attack but they didn't. He was able to reach the door untouched. He pulled the handle, but it was locked.

We followed him tugging and heaving at the door, but it wouldn't budge, not even when Hermione tried her Alohomora charm.

"Now what?" said Ron.

"These birds... they can't be here just for decoration," said Hermione. We watched the birds soaring overhead, glittering —glittering?

"They're not birds!" Harry said suddenly. "They're keys! Winged keys — look carefully. So that must mean... yes — look! Broomsticks! We've got to catch the key to the door!"

"But there are hundreds of them!" Hermione said sounding hopeless.

Ron examined the lock on the door.

"We're looking for a big, old-fashioned one — probably silver, like the handle."

"How can you tell that from the lock?" I asked him. He just shrugged.

We each seized a broomstick and kicked off into the air, soaring into the midst of the cloud of keys. We grabbed and snatched, but the bewitched keys darted and dived so quickly it was almost impossible to catch one.

Not for nothing, though, was Harry the youngest Seeker in a century. After a minute's weaving about through the whirl of rainbow feathers, he pointed out one of the keys.