Hogwarts Castle, fourth floor.
In one of the rooms sprawled a massive, bored dog with three huge, snarling heads. One was twisting around, peering about; another was pretending to doze with its eyes shut...
A soft creak echoed as the wooden door swung open.
Fluffy's three heads snapped up in unison, all locking eyes on the doorway.
The beast had been about to bare its teeth and howl, but as soon as it caught the scent from outside, its tail started wagging instead.
When Dumbledore led Lucien into the room, Fluffy let out a chorus of barks from all three massive maws, then came trotting over like an excited puppy.
It shoved its middle head right up to Lucien's side, clearly begging for a scratch.
Dumbledore chuckled at the sight. "Looks like Fluffy takes a real shine to you, eh?"
Lucien reached out without a second thought, giving the three-headed dog's scalp a good itch.
"I guess I've always been pretty good with animals. And now I've got that unicorn blessing on top of it all."
He pulled out three roasted lamb legs and tossed them—each one snatched mid-air by a different giant jaw.
Fluffy plopped down on the floor, its three heads swaying lazily as it munched on the savory treats.
Dumbledore and Lucien stepped up to the trapdoor, which flipped open on its own.
Lucien leaned over the dark hole, peering down.
But what hit him first wasn't the view—it was a faint rustling, like some serpent slithering through underbrush.
It was pitch black down there, not a glimmer of light, so Lucien quietly activated his Seer's Eye.
Suddenly, his vision filled with a tangled mess of dark green-black vines, coiling like massive pythons, all bundled together and twitching slowly.
It'd been totally empty the last time he checked—now the Devil's Snare had taken over.
This magical plant's got a killer grip; it can even hold down something as brute-strong as a troll for a bit.
But its weaknesses are pretty glaring.
It's terrified of light and fire.
Your average wild beast or even most magical creatures can't whip up either one.
Wizards, though? Piece of cake.
Take the simplest Lumos charm—first-years learn that on their very first Charms class.
Man, Professor Sprout must've set this up with kid gloves on.
Anyone who spots the Devil's Snare can breeze right through.
"Lumos."
A tiny orb of light gathered at Lucien's wand tip.
Then it dropped free from the wand, swelling huge as it tumbled down the hole, blazing bright.
The snakelike tendrils recoiled in a flash, leaving a wide-open gap.
Lucien shifted in a heartbeat, turning into a barn owl and diving straight in.
He switched back to human form just above the ground, landing smooth as silk.
He glanced up at the Devil's Snare knitting itself back together.
At this height, it even works like a cushy landing pad.
Hufflepuff's head of house really is all heart—thinks of everything.
"This one's a walk in the park, right?"
Dumbledore's voice came from beside him, out of nowhere.
Lucien nodded. "Yeah, long as you recognize the Devil's Snare and remember it's weak to light and fire. Professor Sprout even spotlighted it in review class the other day—said it'd be on the exam."
Talk about spoon-feeding it to you.
The two of them headed down the corridor to the room at the end.
Whoosh-whoosh—
The flutter of wings filled the air nonstop, countless gem-like little birds darting all over the place.
Lucien took a closer look—they weren't birds at all. Just a flock of winged keys.
Professor Flitwick's trial, huh.
He crossed to the heavy wooden door on the far side, eyeing the keyhole and memorizing its shape and size.
He spotted the brooms tucked in the corner but skipped 'em, shifting into owl form again.
No need for the Seer's Eye boost—his owl eyes' killer dynamic vision zeroed in on the target easy.
A silver key with sky-blue wings.
A couple quick dives and dodges, and Lucien had it snatched in his talons.
Then he sailed right through his own head of house's setup, no sweat.
Dumbledore couldn't help but give a soft clap at Lucien's slick Animagus work. Well played, he thought.
They moved on to the next room.
The darkness lit up in a burst of light—the whole space was one giant chessboard, dotted with black and white pieces towering two or three meters high.
Professor McGonagall's Wizard's Chess gauntlet.
Lucien scanned the board setup and shook his head at Dumbledore. "Headmaster, this one's meant for a team effort, normally."
Dumbledore raised a curious eyebrow. "From the sound of it, you've got another way?"
Lucien twirled his wand. "Getting the black side to win? Easy. Go brute force and blast the white pieces to bits, or..."
He flicked his wand in a flurry of points, and boom—the white pieces all morphed into black ones.
"Or just turn the whites black. Leaves you with only one side on the board."
Dumbledore's mustache twitched with a suppressed grin. McGonagall had transfigured those pieces herself—tough as nails and rock-solid.
A kid this age shouldn't be able to shatter 'em with spells, let alone layer a Transfiguration on top like that.
But Lucien pulled it off.
"You cut straight to the chase, and you've got the magical chops to back it up," Dumbledore said.
On to the next trial—but before they even stepped in, Lucien caught a whiff of that all-too-familiar stench.
Door swings open: bam, a troll.
This one's even bigger than the Christmas behemoth.
Does Quirrell have some weird troll obsession or what?
Seeing the kid next to him itching to jump in, Dumbledore flashed back to that Halloween night fiasco, adjusted his glasses, and cleared his throat.
"Ahem... think we can skip sampling the troll this time?"
Lucien nodded, shooting the beast a wistful glance. The troll's dim bulb of a brain shivered for no reason.
These challenges felt kinda basic still—room for tweaks, maybe.
Like tossing some Chinese Chomping Cabbages into the Devil's Snare, rigging the flying keys with traps...
For the troll? Why not test out some magical circuit weaving?
He could already tweak magical creatures' pathways now. Practice on this lug?
Sure, adults are a pain to rework long-term, but if you're not fussy about permanence, it's doable.
Besides, Harry and the crew won't have to tangle with it themselves—Quirrell'll take point.
Lucien trailed Dumbledore into the next room.
But the second they crossed the threshold, purple flames roared up behind them, black ones sealing the far door.
Lucien strolled casual to the center, where a table sat with seven oddly shaped bottles. A scrap of parchment beside it read:
We're a circle of seven, but only two can help you on your way.
One leads forward, one sends you back.
Two hold nettle wine.
Three bear poison that will end your trek.
A few hints from a well-wisher:
The poison sits left of every wine.
The ends hold different fates, but neither points ahead.
No giant's thirst or dwarf's delight will drink the deadliest brew.
Second from left and second from right look worlds apart, yet match like twins.
Lucien read it over and couldn't help but smirk to himself.
Snape's test, billed as Potions but really just a logic puzzle.
Devil's Snare for Hermione, flying keys for Harry, chess for Ron, troll for...
Well, Quirrell.
And Potions? Hermione again.
Team roles locked in tight.