The Girl Who Hid | ✓

|6| Tests

"This way," said Harry, pointing down a stone passageway, which was the only way forward.

All we could hear, apart from our footsteps, was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls.

"Can you hear something?" Ron whispered.

Listening, I heard a soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up ahead.

"Do you think it's a ghost?" I whispered.

"I don't know... sounds like wings to me," Hermione mumbled.

"There's light ahead— I can see something moving," said Harry.

Once we reached the end of the passageway, before us a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above us. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door.

"Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?" said Ron.

"Probably," said Harry. "They don't look very vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once... well, there's no other choice... I'll run."

He took a deep breath, covered his face with his arms, and sprinted across the room. Harry reached the door untouched. He pulled the handle, but it was locked.

We quickly followed Harry and helped him tug on the door, but it wouldn't budge; Hermione even tried her Alohomora Charm, nothing.

"Now what?" said Ron.

"These birds... they can't be here just for decoration," said Hermione.

"The birds look like they're... glittering," I tilted my head to take a better look.

"They're not birds!" Harry said suddenly. "They're keys! Winged keys — look carefully. So that must mean—" He looked around the chamber while we squinted up at the flock of keys. "Yes— look! Broomsticks! We've got to catch the key to the door!"

"But there are hundreds of them!"

Ron examined the lock on the door, "we're looking for a big, old-fashioned one— probably silver, like the handle."

We each seized a broomstick and kicked off into the air, soaring into the midst of the cloud of keys. I grabbed and snatched, but the bewitched keys darted and dived so quickly, it was almost impossible to get one. The closest I got was pulling a wing off one of the poor keys.

"That one!" Harry said, pointing at the key. "That big one— there— no, there— with bright blue wings— the feathers are all crumpled on one side."

Ron went speeding in the direction that Harry was pointing, crashed into the ceiling, and nearly fell off his broom.

"We've got to close in on it!" Harry called, not taking his eyes off the key with the damaged wing. "Ron, you come at it from above— Hermione, stay below and stop it from going down— Maisey and I will try and catch it. Right, NOW!"

Ron dived, Hermione rocketed upward, the key dodged them both, while Harry and I streaked after it; it sped toward the wall, Harry leaned forward and with a nasty, crunching noise, pinned it against the stone with one hand. Ron's, Hermione's, and my cheers echoed around the high chamber.

Landing quickly, Harry ran to the door, the key struggling in his hand. He rammed it into the lock and turned— it worked. The moment the lock had clicked open, the key took flight again, looking very battered now that it had been caught twice.

"Ready?" Harry asked the other two, his hand on the door handle. We nodded. He pulled the door open.

The next chamber was so dark we couldn't see anything at all. But as we stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight.