The ancient trees of the Forbidden Forest trembled as magical energy tore through the air. Chris ducked beneath a shower of acidic venom, his dragon-hide armour gleaming dully in the filtered morning light as eight-legged shadows descended from the canopy above. All around him, the battle raged, goblin war cries mingling with the chittering screech of acromantulas and the rhythmic twang of centaur bowstrings. This was no skirmish but a full-scale assault, a coordinated purge of creatures that had spread unchecked for decades. And at the center of it all, Chris moved with deadly purpose, his white and blue hair catching the sunlight as he carved a path through the monstrous spiders toward their king.
"Formation tighten!" shouted a gravel-voiced goblin commander somewhere to Chris's left. The disciplined line of warriors responded instantly, their silver-edged weapons glinting as they closed ranks against a fresh wave of spiders surging from between the twisted trunks.
From the higher ground surrounding the colony, centaur archers released volley after volley of arrows. Their aim was unerring, each shaft finding vulnerable joints in their armour or piercing eyes with surgical precision. The paralytic poison coating their arrowheads worked quickly, dropping spiders mid-leap or freezing them in place for goblin blades to finish.
"Above you, wizard!" called a centaur with a chestnut coat, his bow already drawn and aimed.
Chris spun, raising his wand in a practiced motion that was more theatre than necessity. "Praesidium Aureum!" The golden shield materialised above him just as three massive acromantulas dropped from the branches. They crashed against the dome of protective magic, bouncing off harmlessly and landing in disarray on the forest floor. Before they could recover, Chris slashed his wand downward. "Secare Intentio!"
The arc of golden-white energy cleaved through the nearest spider, severing it cleanly from mandibles to abdomen. The creature's legs twitched once before going still. Chris maintained the appearance of conventional spellcasting, channeling his enhanced magic through the wand while keeping the true nature of his abilities hidden. Only he knew that the wand was merely a prop, that the power flowed directly from his transformed magical core, courtesy of the hallows.
Twenty meters ahead, a group of young goblin warriors had engaged a particularly large acromantula, its body easily the size of a small car. They darted in and out with disciplined precision, each strike targeted at vulnerable points, legs, joints, eyes. The spider whirled frantically, trying to track multiple opponents at once, its mandibles dripping with venom that sizzled when it struck the earth.
Chris could have ended the creature with a single spell, but held back. This was the goblins' Blooding ritual, their rite of passage. Instead, he turned his attention to three more spiders advancing on their flank.
"Vinculum Telae!" He swept his wand in a wide arc, and silvery strands shot from its tip, enveloping the approaching acromantulas in a web of their own making. The magical bindings tightened, paralyzing the creatures instantly. A nearby goblin warrior caught Chris's eye and nodded sharply in acknowledgment before finishing the immobilised prey with precise strikes of his axe.
For nearly an hour, they had been fighting their way toward the center of the colony, where intelligence suggested Aragog made his lair. The enormous ancient pine that marked the spider king's hollow was now visible through the trees, perhaps two hundred meters distant. But between them and their target, at least a hundred more acromantulas scuttled and swarmed in desperate defense of their ruler.
A sudden shift in the battle drew Chris's attention. A group of younger goblins had pushed too far ahead of the main line, their eagerness for glory overcoming their tactical training. Now they were surrounded, a dozen spiders closing in from all sides.
"Hold the line!" Chris called to the goblins near him. "I'll support the advance party!"
He sprinted forward, vaulting over fallen trees and dead spiders with enhanced agility. As he ran, he traced complex patterns in the air with his wand, gathering magical energy that swirled around him in coils of blue-white light. When he reached the isolated goblins, he drove his wand into the ground at the center of their position.
"Tempestas Glacialis!"
A winter storm erupted from the point of impact, expanding outward in a perfect circle of freezing air and razor-sharp ice crystals. The acromantulas caught in the blast slowed dramatically, their movements becoming sluggish as frost formed on their hairy bodies. The young goblins, protected within the eye of the magical storm, looked at Chris with expressions of surprise and newfound respect.
"Rejoin the main force," he instructed them, gesturing toward the goblin line that was now advancing to meet them. "Maintain discipline and stay in formation."
One of the goblins, barely adolescent by their standards, clasped a fist to his chest in salute. "We fight better with you, Lord Emrys."
The compliment was unexpected, but there was no time to acknowledge it. Already more spiders were converging on their position, drawn by the magical discharge. Chris raised his wand again, this time calling forth fire to melt pathways through the frozen creatures, creating a corridor for the young warriors to retreat safely.
As the battle continued, Chris found himself constantly evaluating, adapting. The acromantulas were learning, changing their tactics in response to the assault. Where initially they had attacked in scattered groups, now they were massing for coordinated rushes against perceived weak points. It was evidence of a directing intelligence, Aragog, orchestrating the defense of his colony.
"Chief Ragnok!" Chris called out, spotting the goblin leader dispatching a spider with a single blow of his war hammer. "We need to press toward the center now, before they can consolidate further!"
Ragnok turned, his battle-scarred face splitting in a fierce grin. "Young warriors, form the spear!" he bellowed in Gobbledegook, the harsh syllables carrying over the sounds of combat.
Immediately, the goblin formation shifted, creating a wedge with their most experienced fighters at the point and along the edges. Chris took position just behind the tip of the spear, where his magic could support the advance most effectively.
"Forward!" Ragnok roared, and the formation surged toward Aragog's pine tree.
The spiders sensed the shift in momentum. They poured from hidden burrows and dropped from branches in increasing numbers, sacrificing themselves to slow the advance. Chris alternated between defensive shields to protect the goblins and devastating offensive spells that cleared their path.
With each step closer to Aragog's hollow, the resistance grew fiercer. The air filled with sticky webbing, venom spray, and the clacking of mandibles large enough to sever a human limb with one bite. Yet the combined might of goblin steel, centaur arrows, and Chris's magic proved unstoppable.
As they neared the ancient pine, Chris could see the dark opening at its base, the entrance to Aragog's personal domain. The massive spider would be waiting inside, too old and enormous to join the battle directly, but undoubtedly aware of every development through its connection to the colony.
"Secure the perimeter!" Chris shouted to Ragnok. "I'll deal with Aragog personally!"
The goblin chief acknowledged with a curt nod, already directing his warriors to form a defensive ring around the hollow. Chris paused at the threshold, gathering his magic for what would come next. Then, wand at the ready, he ducked into the darkness to confront the king of spiders.
...
The hollow beneath the ancient pine seemed to breathe with the weight of decades. Chris's eyes adjusted to the dimness, revealing a wide cavern, its walls lined with silken webbing that gleamed like silver in the faint light filtering from above. The air hung heavy with the musty scent of earth and an ancient animal musk that filled his lungs with each breath. And there, in the deepest recess of the hollow, a massive shape stirred. Eight milky eyes, each the size of a dinner plate, blinked open in the darkness, fixing on the intruder who dared enter the sanctuary of the forest's oldest predator.
"I have been expecting you, young wizard," Aragog's voice rasped through the stillness, a sound like dry leaves scraping against stone. The enormous acromantula shifted, his massive legs, each thicker than Chris's torso, adjusting to bring his body forward into a shaft of dusty light.
Chris stood his ground, wand raised, though he kept his distance from the creature's enormous mandibles. Aragog was far larger than any of his children, his body the size of a small elephant, black hair now streaked with gray from extreme age. Despite his blindness, those milky eyes tracked Chris's every movement with unnerving accuracy.
"Your children have been killing unicorns," Chris replied coldly. "Centaur foals. Anything that wanders within your expanding territory. The colony has grown beyond what this forest can sustain."
Aragog's mandibles clicked together, a sound that might have been contemplative or threatening, impossible to tell from a face so alien. "Nature's way. The strong survive, the weak become food. Has it not always been so?" The giant spider shifted again, old joints creaking. "You humans understand this principle well. You practice it yourselves, though you dress it in prettier words."
"There's a difference between the natural order and an invasive force that destroys everything in its path." Chris took a step forward, his wand never wavering. "Your colony was never supposed to exist here. One acromantula, brought illegally into a school forest, breeding unchecked for decades. This isn't nature, it's an imbalance that needs to be corrected."
The sound that emanated from Aragog might have been laughter, but it held no mirth, only the dry rasp of malice. "So you appoint yourself the forest's guardian? A boy who reeks of power beyond his years?" Aragog's massive head tilted, those blind eyes somehow seeing more than they should. "I know what you seek beneath my home, wizard. The hidden place. The forgotten chamber. My children and I have felt its magic for generations."
Chris's heartbeat quickened, though his expression remained impassive. "What do you know of Hufflepuff's Chamber?"
"Ah, so it has a name." Aragog's mandibles clicked faster, an agitated rhythm. "We acromantulas come from distant lands, but we recognize old magic when we taste it in the air. There is a threshold beneath this hollow, sealed with magic that even time cannot erode. My children have tried to dig past it, sensing the power that sleeps there, but the earth rejects our efforts."
The revelation was unexpected. Chris had assumed the location was a coincidence, that Aragog had simply chosen this hollow for its size and defensibility. But if the acromantulas had sensed the chamber's magic, had been trying to access it themselves...
"Then you understand why you cannot remain," Chris said, adjusting his grip on his wand. "What lies beneath is not meant for your kind."
"So the true purpose emerges." Aragog shifted again, his enormous body tensing subtly. "Not forest guardian but treasure hunter. My children die not for balance, but for your ambition."
"They die because there is no alternative," Chris replied. "Even if I wanted to relocate your colony, there's nowhere that could safely contain thousands of intelligent predators with a taste for human flesh."
Aragog's front legs rose slightly, a posture that in a smaller spider would precede an attack. "There is always an alternative, young wizard. My children could spare you. Leave now, and we will grant you safe passage from our territory. Return with Hagrid, who has always been our friend. Perhaps an arrangement could be made."
Chris studied the ancient creature before him. In another life, perhaps, such diplomacy might have been possible. But Aragog's colony was too dangerous, too entrenched, and too close to what he sought. More importantly, the constant threat they posed to Hogwarts students could not be allowed to continue. The decision had been made long before he entered this hollow.
"I'm sorry," Chris said, and he was surprised to find he meant it. Aragog was intelligent, ancient, a being of genuine majesty despite his monstrous nature. "But your children won't be spared, and neither will you."
Before Aragog could respond, Chris channelled his magic through his wand, focusing his intent with perfect clarity. The ancient battle spell from Gryffindor's Grimoire came to him with fluid ease, his enhanced magical core supplying power beyond what he had used in the battle till now.
"Secare Intentio!" The words emerged from Chris's lips in a tone of absolute finality.
The arc of golden-white energy that burst from his wand was not the crescent of his training sessions but a perfect vertical plane of pure magical intent. It struck Aragog directly between his front legs and continued through his massive body without slowing, slicing the ancient acromantula cleanly from front to back.
For a moment, nothing happened. Aragog remained perfectly still, those milky eyes fixed on Chris as if in disbelief. Then, with terrible slowness, the two halves of the spider king's body began to separate, sliding apart like a grim magic trick. There was surprisingly little blood, the spell had cauterized as it cut, leaving clean edges that gleamed in the dim light.
"Hagrid..." The name escaped from Aragog's mandibles as his severed body collapsed, the light fading from his eyes even as the name of his oldest friend hung in the air between them.
Chris lowered his wand, a complex mixture of emotions washing through him. Victory, yes, but also a solemn recognition of the necessary end to a creature that, for all its predatory nature, had possessed a mind and memories. For a moment, he stood silent in respect.
Then, duty reasserted itself. Chris turned and climbed back toward the entrance of the hollow, emerging into the dappled forest light where goblin warriors and centaur archers still battled the remnants of the colony. He raised his wand high above his head, sending up a shower of red sparks that burst like a firework above the ancient pine.
"Aragog is fallen!" he called out, his voice magically amplified to carry across the battlefield. "The king is dead!"
A ragged cheer rose from the goblin ranks, their war cries echoing through the forest as they pressed their advantage against the suddenly disorganized spiders. Chris drew a deep breath, steadying himself, then rejoined the battle. The day's work was far from finished, but its turning point had come.
...
The death of Aragog rippled through the remaining acromantulas like a physical wave. Some froze in place, mandibles clicking in apparent confusion. Others scattered in panicked retreat, their organized defense collapsing into chaos. The instinctive connection that had bound the colony to their king's will had snapped, leaving them disoriented and vulnerable. Chris rejoined the goblin formation, his dragon-hide armor now spattered with acromantula fluids, and nodded grimly to Ragnok. "They're breaking. Now we finish this."
Ragnok bared his teeth in a fierce grin, raising his war hammer high. "Warriors of the Nation!" he bellowed in Gobbledegook, the harsh syllables carrying across the battlefield. "The enemy falters! Show no mercy!"
The disciplined goblin lines surged forward with renewed vigor, their formation shifting from defensive to aggressive. Young warriors who had been cautious before now attacked with unbridled ferocity, eager to claim kills for their Blooding ritual. Chris moved alongside them, no longer needing to conserve his magical energy for the confrontation with Aragog.
"Glacius Maxima!" The enhanced freezing spell erupted from his wand, flash-freezing a cluster of retreating spiders. Goblin axes shattered the frozen creatures with ruthless efficiency.
From the high ground, centaur archers continued their methodical work, picking off acromantulas that attempted to escape deeper into the forest. Their arrows found their marks with perfect accuracy, paralytic poison ensuring that no spider that fell would rise again.
"There!" Chris pointed toward a depression in the forest floor where several larger acromantulas had gathered, perhaps secondary leaders attempting to reorganize the colony's defense. He swept his wand in a complex pattern, and the earth beneath the spiders liquefied into quicksand, trapping them in place for the advancing goblins.
The battle that had raged for nearly two hours concluded in less than twenty minutes after Aragog's death. The final spiders were rooted out of burrows, pulled from high branches, or cornered against stone outcroppings and dispatched brutally. When the last acromantula fell, a particularly large specimen that had required the combined efforts of five goblin warriors to subdue, an unnatural silence fell over the forest.
For the first time since dawn, no chittering mandibles clicked, no eight-legged shadows moved through the underbrush. Only the sounds of labored breathing, the creak of leather armor, and the occasional ping of cooling metal broke the quiet. Chris lowered his wand, suddenly aware of the ache in his muscles and the stinging of small cuts on his face where venom spray had found gaps in his armor.
"Victory," Ragnok declared, his voice oddly subdued in the aftermath of such violence. "The forest is cleansed."
Slowly, methodically, the allied forces regrouped around Aragog's hollow. Centaurs tended to their wounded, applying poultices to venom burns and binding cuts with expert care. The goblins moved among their own, solemnly counting their numbers. Chris helped where he could, casting minor healing charms on injuries too small to warrant the centaurs' limited medical supplies.
A sombre-faced goblin warrior approached Ragnok, speaking quietly in their native tongue. The chief's expression remained stoic, but something in his posture changed, a subtle stiffening that spoke of bad news received and absorbed. He nodded once, sharply, then turned toward Chris.
"We have tallied our forces," Ragnok said. "Two warriors have fallen. Grimclaw and Ironhand. Both young, both fighting their first Blooding."
Chris felt the words like a physical blow. Despite his abilities, despite all his planning and power, two lives had been lost. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had known casualties were inevitable in a battle of this scale, but the reality still cut deep.
"I'm sorry," he said, the words feeling woefully inadequate. "If I had been faster with Aragog, perhaps…"
Ragnok raised a hand, cutting him off. "Come," he said simply, turning toward where a group of goblins had gathered in a circle near the edge of the clearing.
Chris followed, his steps heavy with a guilt he couldn't quite shake. The goblins parted as they approached, revealing two still forms laid out on cloaks of deep green. The fallen warriors looked peaceful in death, their weapons placed upon their chests, hands folded around the hilts in the traditional goblin manner.
"You feel responsible," Ragnok observed, his gravelly voice pitched low for Chris's ears alone. "This is a human trait I have never fully understood."
"They died fighting beside me," Chris replied. "How could I not feel responsible?"
Ragnok considered this, his eyes studying Chris with unexpected empathy. "Among my people, Lord Emrys, death in battle is not a tragedy to be mourned but an honour to be celebrated. These young warriors died as they wished to live, with weapons in hand, courage in heart, and purpose in death."
He gestured toward the bodies. "Look at Grimclaw there. See how he fell protecting his battle-brother? Three acromantulas he slew before the fourth took him. And Ironhand, he held the line alone when a breach threatened our flank. Seven kills marked his blade before he fell."
Chris looked more closely at the fallen goblins. Now he could see the pride in the faces of those who stood vigil, not grief or anger.
"Their clans will sing of them tonight," Ragnok continued. "Their names will be carved in the Hall of Warriors beneath Gringotts. Their families will be honored with their share of today's spoils. This is a good death, Lord Emrys. The only death a goblin truly fears is one without meaning."
"I understand," Chris said slowly, though the goblin perspective remained somewhat alien to his human sensibilities. "Still, I wish they could have returned with us."
Ragnok nodded, a sign of respect for Chris's sentiment even if he didn't fully share it. "They return with us in spirit and memory. And their sacrifice has purchased something of immense value, not just the acromantula venom and silk, but the safety of the forest itself." He turned, looking Chris directly in the eye. "Was that not worth fighting for? Worth dying for, if necessary?"
Put that way, Chris couldn't disagree. The acromantula colony had been a spreading cancer in the ecosystem, a danger to students and forest creatures alike. Its removal would restore balance that had been disrupted for decades.
"Yes," he answered finally. "It was worth it."
"Then honor them by completing what we began here," Ragnok said, clapping Chris on the shoulder with surprising gentleness. "Now, we collect our spoils."
All around the clearing, goblins were already at work harvesting the valuable components from the fallen acromantulas. Specialized tools extracted venom sacs intact, while others carefully removed sections of the creatures' silk glands. Even the chitin exoskeletons were being methodically broken down into transportable sections, their magical resistance making them valuable for certain types of armor and protective gear.
The centaurs had withdrawn somewhat from this activity, having little interest in the physical spoils. Their reward had been the elimination of a threat to their foals and territory. A tall centaur with a chestnut coat approached Chris, inclining his head in formal acknowledgment.
"The stars spoke truly of this day's work, young wizard," he said. "Our seers foresaw blood and victory intertwined. We honor your part in fulfilling that prophecy."
"Thank you for your aid," Chris replied, matching the centaur's formal tone. "The victory belongs to all who fought today."
As the afternoon wore on, the battlefield was transformed. What had been a scene of chaos and violence became an orderly operation, with goblins working efficiently to extract every valuable component from their conquered foes. Aragog's massive corpse required special attention, his venom sacs alone containing enough fluid to fill several large glass containers.
Chris watched it all with a strange mixture of satisfaction and solemnity. The day's work had been necessary, and successfully completed. But as he looked toward the dark opening of Aragog's hollow, he knew that his true goal still lay ahead, beneath the stone where hearth once burned, in the hidden chamber that had waited untouched for centuries.
...
The forest had grown quiet as afternoon stretched toward evening, the sounds of battle replaced by the distant clanking of goblin equipment as they packed their hard-won spoils. Chris stood at the entrance to Aragog's hollow, watching as the last of the massive spider's remains were carefully removed on an enchanted stretcher. The acromantula king's body, now split perfectly down the middle, would provide the most valuable components of all, venom from glands older and more potent than any of his offspring, silk of extraordinary strength and magical resistance, and eyes whose properties were prized in certain rare potions. At Chris's request, the goblins had cleared the hollow completely, allowing him to examine the ancient pine's interior without the distraction of Aragog's imposing corpse.
"We'll begin our return to Gringotts within the hour," Ragnok informed him, wiping acromantula fluids from a specialized harvesting tool. "The young warriors are eager to present their trophies at the Blooding ceremony tonight."
"Thank you," Chris replied. "I'd like to examine the hollow more thoroughly before we leave. There may be historical significance to this location."
Ragnok's expression was knowing, almost amused. "Historical significance. Yes, I imagine there might be." The goblin chief didn't press for details, a courtesy Chris appreciated. Their alliance was built on mutual respect and a certain comfortable distance, each party pursuing their own interests while honouring their agreements. "Take what time you need. We won't depart without you."
As Ragnok re-joined his warriors, Chris ducked into the hollow once more. Without Aragog's massive presence, the space seemed larger, its true dimensions now visible. The ancient pine's roots had grown inward over decades, forming natural columns that supported the earthen ceiling. Silvery webs still lined the walls, though goblin harvesters had removed the most valuable sections. The hollow smelled different now, less of acromantula musk and more of raw earth, old wood, and oddly fresh cut grass.
Chris moved methodically through the space, examining every corner and crevice. The floor was mostly packed earth, smoothed by the constant movement of Aragog's massive body over decades. Near the center, where the spider king had primarily resided, the ground was more compressed, almost polished by continuous contact.
He crouched down, running his fingers over this central area. The earth gave way to something harder, not a root or stone in the soil, but something deliberately placed. Chris brushed away more dirt, revealing the edge of what appeared to be a large, flat platform partially buried in the floor of the hollow.
"Find the stone where hearth once burned," he murmured, recalling the clue from Hufflepuff's riddle.
With renewed purpose, Chris cleared more earth from around the object. Gradually, a circular stone about four feet in diameter emerged from beneath the dirt. Its surface was weathered but still showed signs of deliberate shaping, with a subtle depression in the center where fires might once have burned. Around the edge, barely visible beneath centuries of grime, ran a series of small carved symbols.
"Lumos," Chris said internally, directing the light from his hand to better examine the markings.
They weren't runes, at least not any system he recognized from his studies. Instead, they appeared to be pictographic, simple images of plants, animals, and natural elements, a badger, a tree, what might have been a cup or chalice, and other symbols less immediately identifiable. But the pattern was unmistakably deliberate, the stone clearly worked by human hands.
"This has to be it," Chris said to himself, excitement building in his chest. "A hearth stone from Hufflepuff's time, perhaps even used by Helga herself."
He considered the riddle again. The stone had been found, but what would make it reveal the entrance to the chamber? The clue suggested fire was the key, "where hearth once burned." The hollow's current occupant had been a creature that feared fire above all things, a perfect guardian to prevent accidental discovery.
Chris pointed his wand at the center of the stone, where the shallow depression would have once held burning embers. "Incendio," he cast, focusing his intent on creating a gentle, controlled flame rather than the powerful blaze the spell could produce at full strength.
Fire bloomed from the tip of his finger, settling into the depression with a soft whoosh. For a moment, nothing happened, the flames simply danced in place, casting flickering shadows against the hollow's walls. Then, the carved symbols around the edge of the stone began to glow with a warm, golden light that seemed to rise from within the rock itself.
The glow spread inward from the edge, following invisible channels in the stone's surface until it reached the fire at the center. There, instead of stopping, the light intensified, turning from gold to a rich, warm amber that reminded Chris of honey held up to sunlight. The fire itself changed, its normal reds and oranges shifting to match the amber glow of the stone.
A low, rumbling vibration began beneath Chris's feet, not violent but persistent, like the purring of some enormous cat. The hearth stone, now glowing in its entirety, began to sink slowly into the ground. As it descended, the earth around it remained stable, revealing not a collapsing hole but a carefully constructed circular opening. Stone steps, worn smooth by age but still solid, spiraled downward into darkness below.
Chris stood transfixed, watching as the entrance revealed itself completely. The fire continued to burn, now floating in midair above the opening, providing illumination for the first few steps before the staircase curved away into impenetrable shadow.
"The Chamber of Hufflepuff," he breathed, a sense of wonder momentarily overtaking his usual composure.
A millennia had passed since anyone had set foot in this place. Whatever knowledge, whatever magic Helga Hufflepuff had deemed important enough to conceal here had remained untouched, waiting for someone worthy to discover it. The historical significance alone was staggering, but Chris knew there was likely far more than mere historical curiosity to be satisfied below. Hufflepuff had been renowned for her expertise in magical plants, healing arts, and food-based magic, practical, nurturing disciplines often undervalued compared to the flashier magics of Gryffindor or the esoteric knowledge of Ravenclaw.
He took a moment to cast several detection spells, checking for obvious traps or dangers. The magic revealed nothing immediately threatening, though there was a complex layering of protective enchantments that seemed designed to preserve rather than harm. With cautious confidence, Chris approached the stairs.
The first step felt solid beneath his foot, the stone cool but not cold, as if it retained some inner warmth despite centuries underground. The second step was the same, and the third. Chris descended carefully, a "lumos" held before him to light the way as the spiral staircase curved deeper into the earth.
After about twenty steps, he paused, looking back up at the circular opening above. From this angle, the amber fire still floating above the entrance looked remarkably like a setting sun, casting its final golden rays down into the chamber below. It was beautiful, in a solemn way that made Chris feel simultaneously small and part of something much greater than himself.
He continued his descent, the staircase curving further until the entrance was no longer visible. Only his wand light illuminated the way now, casting long shadows ahead of him. The air grew cooler but remained surprisingly fresh, suggesting some form of magical ventilation system maintained across the centuries, just as it was in Gryffindors chamber.
After perhaps fifty steps, the spiral staircase opened onto a small landing. Beyond it, Chris could make out the shadowy outline of what appeared to be a massive wooden door, its surface carved with the same symbols that had adorned the hearth stone above. In the center of the door, a badger crafted from what looked like bronze stood in relief, its small eyes gleaming with inlaid amber that caught the light of his wand.
Chris approached slowly, every sense alert for any sign of danger or magical resistance. But the door offered no challenge, no barrier to his progress. When he stood before it, close enough to touch the bronze badger, he felt a gentle pulse of magic, welcoming rather than warning, recognition rather than rejection.
"Open," he said simply, placing his palm against the cool metal of the badger.
The door responded immediately, swinging inward with a soft creak, signifying its age. Beyond lay darkness, but as the door opened fully, lights began to kindle within, not the harsh brightness of modern magical illumination, but the warm, gentle glow of dozens of enchanted lanterns coming to life after centuries of slumber.
With a deep breath and a heart full of anticipation, Christopher Emrys stepped across the threshold, entering the long-hidden sanctuary of Helga Hufflepuff.