Chapter 90: A New Use for Alohomora

A dog’s roar came from above, its massive head filling the entrance beneath the trapdoor.

Allen remained unmoved, carefully controlling the Levitation Charm to lower himself slowly.

Just as he descended halfway, Allen heard Harry and the others shouting anxiously below; before he could make out their words, blue flames shaped like bellflowers began to rise.

Allen quickly accelerated his descent, and when he landed, he found they had already escaped—though they were disheveled.

“What happened?” Allen asked, puzzled.

“Just Devil’s Snare. Let’s keep going!” Harry pointed to the only path ahead.

Allen opened his mouth but said nothing, then hurried to catch up.

The only path was a stone corridor, silent except for their footsteps and the slow drip of water down the walls.

Suddenly, they heard a faint rustling and tinkling sound ahead.

“There’s light ahead—I see something moving.”

They reached the end of the corridor to find a brightly lit room with a high arched ceiling. Countless tiny birds, glittering like jewels, flapped their wings and darted everywhere.

Opposite them stood a heavy wooden door.

They covered their faces with their arms and sprinted to the other side of the room.

They reached the door unharmed, pulled the handle—it was locked.

Ron and Hermione joined them. They tugged and pushed together, but the door didn’t budge. Hermione tried her Alohomora Charm again—no effect.

“What do we do?” Ron asked.

“These birds… they can’t just be decoration,” Hermione said.

The three stared as the tiny birds darted overhead.

“They’re not birds at all!” Harry suddenly said. “They’re keys—winged keys. Look closely.”

Harry scanned every corner of the room and spotted a pile of broken broomsticks in a corner.

He rushed over to examine the broken broomsticks.

“I get it!” Harry said. “We have to fly up and catch the key to this door! But all the broomsticks are destroyed!”

Allen and the others joined him in the corner, staring at the scattered broomstick fragments.

“The breaks are fresh—just broken,” Allen picked up a broom handle and said firmly.

“It must’ve been Snape. Is there any way to fix broomsticks?” Ron asked.

“Books don’t say how to repair broomsticks. Harry, does your Quidditch team teach this?” Hermione frowned.

“No!” Harry answered bluntly.

Allen looked at the broken broomsticks on the ground. “This level of damage is beyond our ability to repair. We need another way through that door.”

The four finally accepted the truth and returned to the door.

They waved their wands and cast various spells at the wooden door, trying to destroy it.

But their efforts were futile—the door bore not a single mark.

They switched tactics, turning their spells toward the flying keys, aiming to knock down one large, ornate key—likely silver, shaped like a doorknob.

But the enchanted keys were acutely sensitive to spell trajectories; none of their spells hit a single target.

“Are we really done for today?” Ron sank into despair. “We’re trapped. When Snape gets the Stone, he’ll easily deal with all of us.”

»

Harry fell silent but stubbornly kept casting Petrificus Totalus at the keys above.

Hermione tried Alohomora on the door again—still no effect.

Allen watched Hermione, sweat on her brow as she chanted Alohomora, and suddenly remembered he had once decoded the ancient magical runes for Alohomora’s key-value pair—he’d never understood how to use it, but he recalled the key’s meaning: “whether to return.”

A faint insight stirred in Allen’s mind…

He drew his wand, pointed it at the door’s lock, and said: “Alohomora!”—while in his mind, he thought: “Need to return.”

The moment the spell activated, Allen felt a thunderclap in his skull—his soul seemed to fly from his body for an instant, merging with a vast will in endless heights, then snapped back into his body.

“Allen, wake up!” It was Hermione’s voice—distant, as if from far away.

Allen still felt dazed, unwilling to awaken, then felt cold water splash over his face.

He snapped awake.

“What happened to me?” Allen asked, bewildered. He found himself lying on the floor, Harry and the others hovering anxiously around him.

“You passed out when you cast the spell on the door!” Hermione frowned tightly. “And your forehead glowed while you were unconscious—like a rune—but I didn’t catch what it looked like.”

“Did I succeed?” Allen asked, looking at them hopefully.

“No!” Harry stepped aside, revealing the wooden door behind him—still intact, standing there, utterly despairing.

The three’s spirits sank.

“Looks like our journey ends here,” Ron muttered, kicking a broom handle across the floor.

“Maybe our only option is to ambush Snape when he comes out,” Hermione said, but her tone lacked conviction.

Harry remained silent, still casting spells at the keys above—everyone could feel his frustration.

But Allen felt something strange within him. He closed his eyes and focused inward…

“I think I succeeded!” Allen suddenly opened his eyes and declared firmly.

All three turned sharply toward him.

“How did you succeed? The door’s still there!” Ron scoffed.

Allen stood up, drew his wand, pointed it at a fragment of broomstick on the ground, and uttered a spell none expected:

“VeraVerto!”

The broomstick fragment transformed, in their stunned gazes, into a gleaming silver key.

The key’s structure was intricate and precise—every detail crystal clear.

Hermione stared at the key, clearly wanting to ask questions, but Ron had already picked it up.

He shoved it into the lock and twisted hard.

Click!

The door opened!