[Third Person Pov]
"Professor Quirrell!"
The words rang out through the chamber, followed instantly by a chorus of sharp gasps. The majority of them stared at him in open disbelief, shock written plainly across their faces. Of all the possibilities, of all the suspects they had feared and debated, him had never once crossed their minds. The idea felt absurd—wrong—yet the truth stood directly in front of them.
Quirrell smiled.
It was not the nervous, twitchy smile they all remembered from his lectures. His face was perfectly still, unnervingly composed, not a single tremor betraying fear or hesitation. "Me," he said calmly, almost conversationally. "I did wonder whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter. Though I admit, I didn't expect you to bring your entire friend group along for moral support."
"But I thought—Snape—" Harry stammered, his voice faltering as his thoughts tangled over one another. His world felt like it had tilted sideways, the pieces no longer fitting together the way they once had.
Arthur, meanwhile, wasn't looking at Harry at all. His gaze was locked on the formation of towering golem knights that stood in a protective semicircle around Quirrell.
"Severus?" Quirrell laughed, and it wasn't his usual quivering treble. This laugh was cold, sharp, and cutting, sending a chill through the air. "Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So brooding, so unpleasant. So convenient. It was incredibly useful having him swoop around like an overgrown bat, drawing suspicion wherever he went. Next to him, who would ever suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"
The golden trio stood frozen, their minds refusing to accept it. This couldn't be real. It couldn't. Everything they thought they knew was unraveling far too quickly.
"But Snape tried to kill me!" Harry protested, stepping forward despite himself, his brow furrowed in genuine confusion rather than fear.
"No, no, no," Quirrell corrected smoothly. "I tried to kill you. However, for reasons still unknown to me, my spell began to malfunction—almost as if it were being pulled away, redirected toward someone else. Another few seconds and I would've had you off that broom. I would've managed it sooner, too, if Snape hadn't been muttering a countercurse under his breath, desperately trying to save you."
"Snape… was trying to save me?" Harry echoed, disbelief thick in his voice. The words tasted bitter on his tongue, impossible to swallow as his mind struggled to reconcile the idea.
Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly as he turned his head toward Merlin. Her expression didn't shift in the slightest, her posture calm, composed, and utterly unreadable. For now, Arthur let the matter rest, though the tension between them lingered.
"Of course," Quirrell continued coolly. "Why do you think he insisted on refereeing your next match? He was trying to keep an eye on me, to ensure I didn't try again. Funny, really… he needn't have bothered. With Dumbledore watching, I couldn't do anything at all. The other teachers assumed Snape was simply sabotaging Gryffindor's chances of winning—which made him wonderfully unpopular. Such a waste of effort, when after all that…" His smile widened. "I'm still going to kill you tonight. And since you so kindly brought your friends along, I suppose I'll kill them too."
"Talk about the biggest plot twist of the century," Gwyneth muttered under her breath toward Lance.
He scoffed quietly. "That's an understatement."
With a sharp snap of his fingers, ropes materialized out of thin air, whistling through the air as they shot forward to ensnare them.
Arthur reacted instantly. He drew his wand and flicked it forward with casual precision. The ropes burst apart midair, exploding into a shower of blue rose petals that scattered harmlessly across the floor.
Quirrell exhaled slowly, clearly irritated. "I was warned about you."
"What?" Arthur asked, genuine surprise flashing across his face.
"About both of you," Quirrell replied, his grimace directed squarely at Arthur and Merlin. "That the greatest obstacles to retrieving the Stone for my master wouldn't be Dumbledore… or Potter… but the two of you. I thought it was utterly ridiculous." He gestured lazily toward the golem knights. "Even more so when I was given these little babies as precautionary gifts."
"Who was it?" Arthur demanded, stepping forward, his voice hard. "Who told you to be cautious about me—and more importantly, who gave you those knights?"
Quirrell only smiled. "That's for me to know… and for you to die."
He raised his hand sharply. "Attack them. Kill them all—except Potter. Let him sit there and watch as all his friends die."
Lance moved without hesitation, stepping up beside Arthur. He reached for the chain around his neck and tore it free. In an instant, his sword expanded into his grasp, its presence heavy and familiar. "Last time, I couldn't do anything but stand back and watch you handle everything alone," he said firmly. "That's not happening again."
Arthur smirked as he and Lance drew their blades simultaneously, steel singing through the air. They stood shoulder to shoulder, weapons ready, as the squad of golem knights surged forward, metal feet shaking the chamber with every step.
"You and Gwyneth are in charge of one," Arthur said quickly, his tone sharp and commanding. "Mer-lynn and I will handle the other three." He then turned toward the golden trio, his gaze steady and assessing. "Do you think you're brave enough to handle the last one?"
"We're Gryffindors," Ron answered immediately, stepping forward without hesitation as he withdrew his wand. His grip trembled only slightly. "Bravery's about all we've got going for us at the moment."
Arthur gave a single approving nod. "Then disperse. No bunching up—we don't want to get in each other's way."
Quirrell watched with narrowed, calculating eyes as the group split apart, boots scraping against the dungeon floor. The chamber erupted into motion as the golem knights thundered forward, heavy weapons raised high, each choosing a target and charging with relentless purpose.
Lance glanced back toward Gwyneth, who was sprinting behind him, robes fluttering wildly. "Cover me," he called out.
"I had a feeling these were going to come in handy," Gwyneth replied, already reaching deep into her robes. She pulled free several enchanted sheets of parchment, each one etched with intricate magic circles that faintly glowed as they touched the air.
Lance veered sharply toward a knight wielding a long spear. The moment they met, steel rang against metal as he launched into a deadly, practiced dance. His movements were sharp and deliberate, every strike fueled by a fierce determination to prove himself. The knight countered with brutal efficiency, its spear sweeping and stabbing with mechanical precision.
Gwyneth darted to the side, dropped to one knee, and slapped a parchment onto the dungeon floor.
[Tier 2 Magic: Tangle Vine]
The ground shuddered violently as thick, twisting vines burst upward in a savage surge. They coiled around the spear knight's leg, tightening instantly and anchoring it in place. The knight staggered, its balance thrown off.
Lance didn't hesitate. He surged forward, pressing the advantage as the knight was forced to abandon wide attacks and resort to clumsy, defensive strikes using the shaft of its spear.
Across the chamber, Arthur and Merlin stood back to back, surrounded by three towering knights. Each wielded a different weapon: one carried a broad sword, another a massive axe, and the third brandished twin blades that gleamed coldly under the dungeon lights.
Merlin smoothly transformed her wand into a staff and spun it once in her hands. She redirected her magic toward Arthur, firing off a series of spells that wrapped around him like invisible armor—boosting his speed, strength, and defense all at once.
Arthur launched forward in a blur, blue flower petals scattering beneath his feet as his sword split into two identical blades mid-motion. He clashed head-on with the dual-bladed knight, steel screaming as sparks flew from every impact. Behind him, Merlin attacked while simultaneously positioning herself as a living shield.
She swung her staff, sending concentrated beams of magic hurtling forward. The axe-wielding knight met the blasts head-on, deflecting them with brutal force before cleaving straight through the remaining energy with chilling precision.
With another flick of her staff, Merlin summoned a towering wall of earth. It erupted from the floor, cutting off the sword-bearing knight and blocking its path toward Arthur.
Magic circles flared around Arthur as he and the dual-bladed knight exchanged rapid strikes. Ice spells tore through the air, frost crystallizing with every swing. The knight twisted and leapt with unnatural agility, narrowly dodging the attacks—but Arthur pursued relentlessly, giving it no room to breathe.
The two of them moved like a perfectly synchronized pair. Magic pulsed through the air, explosions cracking around the chamber as the violent clang of blades echoed endlessly.
Merlin dipped forward suddenly, and Arthur vaulted over her back in one fluid motion. As he passed overhead, he deflected a crushing blow from the axe knight, his blade igniting into flames on impact.
Merlin slammed her staff into the ground. Jagged earth spikes shot upward, forming a crude prison around two of the knights. Weapons hacked and slashed through the barriers, fragments raining down as the constructs fought their way free.
All the while, Merlin deliberately restrained herself. She showcased her mastery of magic—but never too much. Just enough to appear skilled, never enough to draw suspicion. Every spell she cast subtly framed Arthur as the centerpiece of the battle, guiding attention toward him where it belonged.
Arthur reinforced his blades with a sharp incantation as Merlin summoned a pillar of stone beneath his feet. It launched him skyward like a catapult.
Arthur crossed his swords midair. Lightning erupted around the blades, crackling with lethal intensity as the energy surged through him.
He came crashing down like a thunderbolt, swinging both swords in wide, devastating arcs. The impact sent a shockwave through the dungeon floor.
Arthur rolled cleanly upon landing, sticking it perfectly. Lightning surged through the axe knight's body, electricity tearing through its metal frame. Its axe split cleanly in half along the shaft, and a heartbeat later, the rest of the knight followed—cleaved down the center in a flawless divide.
While Arthur was on one knee he spun back to his feet and charged forward again, blades gripped tightly, eyes burning with resolve as the battle raged on.
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