The Heir of Slytherin

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Ron rolled up his sleeves and pulled at the rocks until he found one that was loose. He tugged it out and dropped it, almost on his own foot.

'This is going to take ages,' Ron said hopelessly, looking up at the solid blockage.

Sherlock bit his lip and aimed his wand again.

'Wingardium Leviosa!' he said.

One of the larger rocks detached itself and floated away, gently landing on the ground a few feet away.

'Don't suppose you have a spare wand?' Ron said enviously.

Sherlock shrugged.

'Wish I hadn't thrown his out the window now.'

Together they worked and eventually made a small hole. Ron stood back to admire their handiwork, wiping sweat from his forehead.

Lockhart, who had been standing, staring around dreamily, suddenly noticed the hole.

'Oh, look at that! Let's see what's through there.'

He ran over and scrambled up the rocks. Ron and Sherlock tried to grab him, but he was too quick. All they could do was watch as he made it half way up and fell all the way back down.

Sherlock dragged him to his feet.

'Gosh, that's a lot of hair. Have we met?' said Lockhart.

Ron frowned.

'Do you know who we are?' Sherlock asked.

'I don't believe so.'

'Do you know who you are?'

Lockhart scrunched up his face, concentrating intensely.

'Actually, I don't. Goodness, that's odd, don't you think?' he said.

Sherlock sighed.

'Ron, why don't you take him back up to the pipe where he can't hurt himself?'

'Fine,' Ron grumbled. 'Come with me.'

'All right,' Lockhart said happily.

Ron dragged him away and Sherlock levitated some more rocks, widening the hole a little more until Ron came pattering back down the tunnel.

'I left him sitting by the pipes. He keeps trying to count them but he's forgotten how to count.'

Ron took in the progress Sherlock had made.

'I reckon we might be able to-'

He was cut off by a streak of red and gold blew past them and through the hole.

'What the hell was that?' Ron exclaimed.

Sherlock shook his head and they both continued to move the rocks. Finally, they'd made a hole big enough for them to fit through.

'Ron, you should stay here,' Sherlock said.

'But Ginny!' he protested.

'You don't have a wand and you'll be no good to her Petrified,' said Sherlock.

Ron struggled to find an argument and gave up.

'All right, well, you'd better bring them back,' he said.

'Of course.'

Sherlock grimaced and climbed through the rocks and down the other side.

'Why don't you try and move some more of these rocks. I don't know what condition Ginny will be in and she might not be able to climb.'

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