"Okay... don't rush."
Neville stood up, about to agree, when something caught his eye. Furrowing his brows, he leaned closer to the statue quivering under the Devil's Snare, gestured with his magic wand, then located the statue's hand. He poked into the gaps of the Devil's Snare with his fingers—
"Ka—"
The next moment, a clanging sound echoed, and the trembling statue finally ended its two-and-a-half-minute ordeal.
"What did you do?"
"I took this thing off—"
Neville extended his hand. In his palm, a deep blue flame ring glimmered with sunlight.
After speaking, Neville didn't linger. He quickly walked over to the two, reached out, and scratched the back of Ron's head. The Devil's Snare binding them trembled like it had been tickled and shrank back into a small earthen ball.
"...How on earth did you do that?"
Watching Neville start to gather the Devil's Snare that had wrapped around the statue, Ron stretched his sore muscles and circled Neville twice, unable to hide his astonishment and curiosity.
"Senior William taught me because I couldn't figure out how to combat the Devil's Snare—so he taught me how to make these things."
Carefully, Neville dug up the roots of the mature Devil's Snare from the soil, transplanted it into a prepared pot, then fetched a green spray bottle from his pocket and gently sprayed the roots. The tendrils, like brown pythons, retracted into the pot, leaving behind just a light brown sprout peeking from the soil.
"...Alright."
Ron nodded, and after a moment of silence among the three, he couldn't help but look at Harry standing quietly beside him, "What did you mean earlier? Why can't we run? Granted, Neville is impressive now, but..."
"No, what I mean is... how should I say this?"
Harry scratched his head for a while, took a deep breath, and shook his head, "Think about it, William is our senior, and the selection for this Duel Club was approved by the headmaster and professors (Flitwick: What?). Plus, it's inside the castle, so our safety is definitely ensured...
"...William wouldn't send us to our deaths. Many wouldn't stand a chance against those statues and could be in real danger, but this is just testing and selection; it can't threaten our lives!"
"...You said so much, and I barely understand any of it."
Under Harry's expectant gaze, Ron and Neville exchanged a glance, then shrugged dismissively.
"Let me put it this way: William knows a type of magic that can influence... affect people's dreams."
Harry originally wanted to say 'control', but he felt the term was a bit... um, too Black Wizard-like before he even said it.
"Wait, dreams... Are you saying that thing that almost shaved off my head was fake?"
Ron was incredulous, patting the now motionless statue beside him. The Devil's Snare around the statue had mostly been cleared by Neville, and now the boy looked disheartenedly at the dejected Little Devil's Snare—
Those things aren't cheap, and free replenishment times in the greenhouse are limited, since Professor Sprout has become increasingly vigilant.
Who wouldn't be, if the greenhouse were almost cleaned out?
"Yes, we're probably in a dream. I can't be sure; I was dragged into trying it once. The dream feels very real, almost indistinguishable from reality... So Ron, stop pinching your arm. Even if you bruise it, it won't wake you up."
"...Oh."
Hearing Harry's words, Ron winced and let go of his hand, "So what do we do now? Verify if this is a dream? Hey? You said you've experienced this before, so how did you wake up then?"
Ron saying anything would have been better than asking that. Upon hearing his question, Harry instinctively wanted to clutch his knee and neck—how did he get out? Being stomped into two by a Goblin, bitten on the butt by an Acromantula, or receiving countless stopping short French kisses from a Dementor at the final moment...
Harry's eyelid involuntarily twitched. Truth be told, he felt like he'd never forget that night.
Although William had lessened the aftereffects of dream death in reality, Harry had never died, and few in the world had experienced it... Maybe he could ask Voldemort, see if there's any difference between being hit by Avada in a dream and the Killing Curse in reality.
Meanwhile, Ron didn't press for an answer from Harry. He first looked down at his incredibly realistic body, then gazed upward at the golden sunlight filtering through the forest, creating countless Tyndall effect rays—dream? Really?
"...In any case, try not to get yourself killed. Maybe being sliced with a sword just knocks you out?"
A moment later, Harry finally stood up and shared his thoughts, only to be met with the silent stares of the other two—of course, even a fool knows not to get killed.
"Ahem, okay, so..."
Harry awkwardly cleared his throat, but before he could finish his query, several hectic footsteps suddenly intruded into their ears. The three instinctively turned to where the sound originated, and soon, three familiar figures emerged from the forest's edge—
"Ah, let me see, we've run into—the famous Harry Potter! And his... oh, Potter, you have a new sidekick. What, is that Mudblood who's always embarrassing herself in class not satisfying enough for you anymore?"
Draco Malfoy's voice—Harry could recognize that peculiar intonation even without ears. The boy couldn't help but frown, looking at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle standing at the clearing's edge, his expression unavoidably souring—
Not because he found them troublesome, he just plain disliked them.
"Heh, you forget how to behave after a beating, it seems you want another, huh?"
Moments later, Harry's expression calmed slightly. He sighed, his voice filled with mock sorrow, clearly referencing their private duel at the end of last semester, where Malfoy had suffered a miserable defeat and truly tucked tail and ran.
"No, no, I'm here for that—"
Malfoy gripped his magic wand, pointing it toward Neville standing to Harry's left. All three followed his gaze to see Malfoy's target was indeed the ring on Neville's finger—since Neville had single-handedly dealt with the statue back then, the other two hadn't taken any particular interest in the ring.
"You want to steal it?"
Ron widened his eyes, staring at Malfoy in disbelief.
"I didn't see a rule against it, did I?"
"...William set rules?"
"..."
"Cut the nonsense, if you want it, come and take it yourself—"
Harry took a deep breath, magic wand held before his chest, fixing his gaze on the three before him, his tone was calm.
"No, no, you've misunderstood—"
Malfoy shook his head, first reaching into his hand to grab something and then tossing a ring to Goyle behind him—it was then that Harry and the others noticed Malfoy was wearing a ring too. This seemed to indicate that the three of them had also defeated an opponent similar to the statue from before?
Or was there some other puzzle to solve?
Knowing William's peculiar habits, Harry couldn't help but wonder, he always suspected William had some tricks up his sleeve.
But, the question now was, why did Malfoy remove his ring?
Under the trio's puzzled gazes, Malfoy pulled a card from his pocket and flicked it towards them. Neville instinctively caught it and, reading the text aloud from the card, said—
"...Skill Card: When you use this card, if you're not equipped with a ring, you can challenge a ring bearer to a 1V1 duel, and win their ring. If you lose, you immediately exit the game?"
"What the heck..."
Ron didn't finish his question when the card suddenly emitted a bright white light and, once it faded, a massive rectangular arena appeared out of thin air in the center. Neville and Malfoy now stood on opposite sides of the arena.
Rubbing his eyes, Ron hesitantly reached out to touch the area surrounding the arena, but only felt a transparent barrier, unable to suppress his gulp—
"...Okay, now I believe we're dreaming."