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BFH# Chapter 40: The Challenge
🕑 Added 2025-01-04 01:29:09 +0000 UTCVictor readily agreed to Dumbledore’s request. In fact, he found it oddly familiar—eight out of ten of his friends had asked him to do similar things before. They all tended to have substantial wealth or magical artifacts that needed guarding.
As a result, Victor had a repertoire of defensive spells at his disposal—not just one or two, but an entire arsenal spanning a wide range of magical and physical protections.
If necessary, he could even sketch a blueprint for Dumbledore on the spot: a fortress with twelve shaky, trap-laden narrow paths, eight pressure plates that triggered poison darts, two rope elevators that would fling intruders into ceiling spikes, and a biting treasure chest masquerading as loot.
Don’t ask who this was for, but as far as Victor knew, no one had ever made it through that fortress alive without multiple attempts.
Unfortunately, Hogwarts had no need for such intricate designs.
After reaching an agreement, Victor retrieved a peculiar pouch from his office. Dumbledore then led him directly to the end of the fourth-floor corridor, stopping in front of a locked door.
"Alohomora."
Dumbledore murmured softly.
The lock clicked open.
Victor raised an eyebrow. "That’s the most basic unlocking charm. Isn’t it a bit... underwhelming for security?"
“True,” Dumbledore admitted, “but if it were fully sealed, Hagrid wouldn’t be able to get in. And that would be rather unfair to Fluffy.
“To be honest, I already feel a bit guilty about keeping him in such a confined space.”
Fluffy. Victor didn’t recognize the name at first.
But the moment Dumbledore cracked the door open, Victor immediately understood to whom the name belonged.
It was a giant, three-headed dog.
The creature’s six eyes, bloodshot and brimming with hostility, were the first thing they saw.
The beast was so massive that it filled every inch of space from floor to ceiling. Its three heads sniffed the air, nostrils twitching and trembling in their direction. Three drooling mouths dripped thick, rope-like saliva from its yellowed fangs.
The three heads were fused together in a grotesque manner. Even with its black fur covering the joins, Victor could discern the distorted skeletal structure binding them.
The dog stared at them for a moment before erupting into a thunderous triple roar:
“ROOOOAAARRR!!!”
“Don’t mind him—looks fierce, I know,” Dumbledore said, raising his voice over the cacophony. “But Hagrid trained Fluffy well—he leaves enough time for someone to escape in case of accidental entry.”
“Well, that’s... considerate.”
Victor glanced at the dog, taking a step back to avoid the spray of saliva flying in all directions as the three-headed beast roared.
After a while, Fluffy’s barks subsided. He scratched at the floor, seemingly ready to lunge at them.
But Dumbledore calmly pulled out his wand—a peculiar, knotted wand of a pale, ivory-like texture with an unusual sheen. It immediately caught Victor’s attention.
With a casual flick, Dumbledore conjured stone hands from the walls, floor, and doorframe to restrain the dog firmly.
“Hogwarts generally restricts the use of Transfiguration,” Dumbledore explained with a smile, lowering his wand, “but the headmaster is granted a few... privileges.”
Victor nodded noncommittally.
With Fluffy subdued, the trapdoor beneath the dog became visible.
“This way.”
Dumbledore stepped forward, and Fluffy, still bound by the stone hands, barked deafeningly as they passed. It snapped its jaws, spraying more saliva, causing Victor to grimace as he sidestepped the mess.
“Whine... whimper...”
The intimidating three-headed dog suddenly shrank back, its six ears folding flat as if sensing something ominous.
By then, Victor had already reached the trapdoor. He watched Dumbledore jump through it, then stepped forward himself and followed.
Wind howled in their ears as they descended the dark, narrow chute. Though the fall lasted only a few seconds, the height was more than enough to cause serious injury.
Just before hitting the ground, Dumbledore waved his wand, summoning a cushion of air that gently caught both of them.
Victor lowered his hand, which had been raised in preparation.
“Click.”
Their shoes touched down softly on the stone floor.
“My apologies for interfering with your own preparations,” Dumbledore remarked with a smile.
Victor shook his head. “Just a simple precautionary spell—surely you don’t expect a wizard to die from a fall.”
Beneath his cloak, the faint outline of black feather-like shapes flickered in the shadows.
“Lumos.”
A small blue light illuminated the pitch-black room. Twisting vines crept along the walls, reaching out with claw-like tendrils toward their faces.
Though the light didn’t deter the plants, the short drop had kept them from falling directly into the thicket. For now, neither of them was entangled.
“Let’s keep moving. These are Professor Sprout’s handiwork. Best not to test their limits,” Dumbledore said cheerfully, using Transfiguration to hold back the advancing vines.
Eventually, they entered a room filled with flying keys.
“Sorry, Victor, but your enchantments will have to share space with Professor Flitwick’s for now. Once I arrange for another room, we’ll move them.”
“How do you plan to set it up? I’d love to see it.”
Dumbledore looked on curiously as Victor opened his pouch, tipping its contents onto the floor. Grains of all shapes and colors spilled out like a fountain, covering the ground.
Dumbledore’s smile froze, a puzzled look crossing his face. “Professor Victor, what exactly are you planning?”
“Simple. Intruders will have to sort these grains.”
Victor spoke matter-of-factly.
“I’ll provide small boxes. They’ll need to separate the grains by type and color, then shell them. Only when they’ve collected enough weight will the door open.”
Dumbledore hesitated, clearly torn. “That... sounds time-consuming. And while it might deter ordinary wizards, experienced spellcasters could bypass it...”
Victor replied calmly, “Delaying them is the point, Headmaster. The longer we stall intruders, the better our chances of catching them.”
“Besides, sorting the grains is only the first step.”
Victor’s tone turned sharper. “Hidden among the thousands of grains are five thousand cursed ones. Step on the wrong one, and you’ll be turned into a flightless swan. Another four thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine will rapidly age you into a decrepit old crone.
“Out of all the grains, only one contains a randomly appearing seed every thirty seconds. This seed will grant access to the next level—but only to the one who finds it.”
“...And that’s just the beginning.”
