Talk To Me (Albus Dumbledore x OC)

5 - A Narrow Escape

Hundreds of pairs of eyes stared at the trio, indecisive as to whether they should attack or ignore these strangers. Newt cupped his hands and produced a low-sounding whistle through his fingers, the noise reverberating off the walls, travelling fast. He then crouched back down and began the previous ritual of swivelling his hips, hands crooked in the air, as he started strutting towards the small creatures. They immediately responded by impersonating his body language, defences dropping, and if it had been under different circumstances, the situation would have been positively laughable. Aurora wanted to question her brother on the whistle but decided as he had managed to get them this far, he was free to produce whatever noises he so wished.

The remaining siblings joined in on this performance and ebbed their way along the walls, being careful not to step too harshly and risk alerting the giant Manticore of their whereabouts. After several minutes, the Skrewts began to hold their eyes on the trio a little sharper and Newt was getting worried.

"You're not swivelling properly! Swivel, swivel, but delicately," the younger brother chastised in a desperate whisper.

"I am swivelling like you are, Newt!" Theseus bit back, throwing an annoyed glance at Aurora who just shrugged and continued.

"I don't think you are-"

As if to cut their bickering short, the next prisoner's lamp sparked before falling into darkness. The siblings held their breath, watching on in horror as the stinger from earlier returned to impale its next victim, Theseus ducking out the way in a second. This reminder of their impending doom paused the arguments as the threw more effort into swivelling, making their way closer and closer to the exit. As the next victim's skeleton was launched back up to the ground in front of them, a small droplet of acid landed against Theseus' trousers and burned a hole through the leg, just catching his skin with a minor blister. The oldest grit his teeth, and after two more levels of constant twisting, Newt let out another whistle. This time, Aurora couldn't hold herself back.

"What do you think you are doing?" she hissed.

"We're going to need some help!"

On his reply, a vile-sounding squelch echoed along with a few squawks of distaste from the Skrewts – Theseus had managed to step on one and crush it to death under his boot. An irked expression was thrown his way at the loss of this so-called innocent lifeform, until his lamp began to fizz and eventually blacken. Aurora's face dropped and her skin paled as the small creatures squealed and ran for their lives. Then a groan from deep below the surface started.

In unison, all began to high-tail it down the endless loops of corridors and flagstone walls, listening to the incessant clunking of claws stabbing into the floor behind them. The Manticore had risen to their height and its stinger threatened to separate the trio. A shrill call to his younger siblings, Theseus yelled for them to follow his direction, but only Newt was able – Aurora had been forced down a smaller hallway, barely wide enough to fit a person, and was running.

Claws were diving through walls from multiple directions, shrapnel flying every which way, and Newt was finally separated off from his brother. All three were now fending for themselves. As if it couldn't get worse, searing hot fluid was pulsed through the stinger's core, flooding its way through the pathways, burning everything in its wake. Any remnant of cave-dwelling weeds or plant life from the surface brought down on someone's boot, was disintegrated into hot ash along with many of the wooden beams of which held the ceiling. Orange flames licked at what little oxygen could be found this deep below, only igniting so far before suffocating into nothing more than black smoke.