Better Be Slytherin!

It took a fair amount of wriggling inside his own skin for Harry to get accustomed to the feel of the Bloody Baron inside his head and body. No, accustomed was not the right word; it made it sound like he'd gotten used to the sensation; he could never get used to this . . . persistent tingling cold, so bitterly icy that his nerves burned, as if on fire. The only outward sign of the Baron's possession was a low level gleam of Harry's skin, which could almost be attributed to moonlight . . . if moonlight could have penetrated to this long, dark hallway.

The Bloody Baron's 'voice' inside his head was the worst part, though. The words seemed to echo through him while at the same time feeling almost like his own thoughts. Don't want this, he thought, and immediately got the thought back, then tell me to get out, as if he were arguing with himself. Can't. Sucking chest wound, remember? An odd, disjointed chuckle bubbled up in his mind. I could Obliviate you again afterwards. Take control and . . . No! That was worse. I can . . . we can handle it.

He was not sure who the last thought belonged to. It was beyond freaky.

By the time they reached the third floor corridor and Fluffy's door, Harry had started to feel less ragged about the intrusion of the ghost.

Ready? Harry asked him/Baron/self as he reached out to cast Alohomora at the door. But the door was already open, just a crack. From inside, they/he could hear the tinny sound of a small, slightly off-key harp. Harry inched the door open wider until he could smell the heavy scent of dog, along with sulfurous undertones.

Sulfurous undertones? he wondered. Where did that term come from? . . . Oh.

Another low, ghostly chuckle burbled from his subconscious. Creepy.

Harry eased himself through the door to find Fluffy, the three-headed hell hound, sound asleep. Excellent. Seemed Hagrid was right about music soothing the beast. Before he had gone three steps, however, the somewhat soothing sound of the harp ceased and Fluffy's eyes started to open. One blink, then another, was all it took for Fluffy to be on his feet and growling. The hellhound could not see Harry/Baron beneath his Invisibility Cloak, but the beast was sniffing the air like a hound dog, attempting to home in on him.

Harry gulped, loudly.

Fluffy jerked around and hunched down as if to lunge.

The flute, his mind reminded him.

Oh, yeah. He whipped the thin, carved flute out of his back pocket and played a few quick notes, then a few more, more slowly, as he watched Fluffy's eyes droop.

Well done, he thought -- no, the Baron thought -- when Fluffy yawned hugely, showing teeth, before turning thrice and lying down again. Fortunately, he was well away from the trap door when he did; in fact, with the sound of snapping matchsticks, he had settled on the harp in the corner.

With one hand holding the flute to his lips, Harry kept playing a couple notes back and forth, thanking Hagrid once more for the gift. He opened the trap door with his other hand, and with some maneuvering, he was able to settle on the edge, legs dangling over, into the darkness below. Then, gathering his courage, Harry pushed himself off the edge and dropped out of sight. . . . He kept falling and falling and finally landed on something soft and kind of leafy.

He pulled at a vine that had wrapped immediately around his chest, but it just tightened further. The same happened when he yanked his arm away from vines that grabbed his arm. Starting to panic, he wrenched himself this way and that, trying to get free, even as he kept telling himself to calm down, calm down, the only way to get past the Devil's Snare is to sit quietly!

Wait, he didn't know this was Devil's Snare!

Oh.

With great effort, Harry made himself stop thrashing and take as deep a breath as he could with the vine strangling him and choking off more and more of his air. But slowly -- almost too slowly to be borne -- the vines gave way, loosening their hold. When they released him completely, he sank through the tangle of vines to the room below.

Thanks, Harry thought.

He could feel the Baron's smile. You are welcome, Harry Potter. Would you reconsider gifting me with control of the body at this time?

No! . . . No, I can't do that. Harry shuddered. He couldn't bear to have someone else in control of his body, not for this. Not for anything. I'll be fine. You can help if he have to cast spells. Or come up against Voldemort.

There was silence from the Baron.

Harry walked down a long passageway that sloped slightly downward. The place smelled of mildew and rot. Up ahead, he heard a soft fluttery sound and came into a room filled with flying . . . keys? Across the room was a battered door with a silver handle. Against the wall next to Harry stood several broomsticks. Aha!

Not for nothing was Harry the youngest Seeker in a century. It only took him a few minutes to catch the right key -- one with a slightly bent 'wing' from being captured once before -- snitch style, and insert it into the lock.

Well done, the Baron intoned as he opened the door to reveal another room.

Thanks, Harry replied, feeling much better able to tell his own thoughts from the Baron's now. Maybe they could really do this. They'd gotten through three traps already, after all. The next one couldn't be much worse.

As he stepped into the room, light flooded the chamber to reveal a giant chessboard and huge pieces that were taller than he was. They looked to be made of stone. The ones directly in front of him were black, and across the board were the white pieces, and none of them had faces. It was eerie.

You will have to play your way across, the Baron said. But Harry decided to try and get to the door behind the white pieces anyway. He tried sneaking around the sides, thinking he could get past this