[Third Person Pov]
"AAAARGHHHH!!"
Quirrell's scream tore through the dungeon like a wounded animal's death cry as raw, unstable energy detonated outward from the magic circle beneath his feet. The runes flared blinding white and sickly green, cracking and warping as the spell spiraled violently out of control. Arcs of magic lashed across the stone floor like living whips, gouging deep scars into the ancient dungeon walls and sending shards of rock skittering across the ground.
No one moved.
Everyone stood frozen in place, horror and disbelief rooting them where they stood as Quirrell's scream echoed again and again, growing less human with every breath. The sound alone made their skin crawl.
Quirrell convulsed violently. His body arched backward as though something inside him was forcing its way out.
His skin began to peel away in thick, grotesque flakes, sloughing off like wet parchment. Beneath it, patches of emerald-green scales emerged, spreading rapidly across his flesh as his body began to grow—bones cracking, muscles swelling unnaturally as his frame stretched taller and broader. His robes strained against him, seams splitting as his torso thickened and elongated.
Behind him, Voldemort's malformed presence began to writhe.
The dark parasite stretched outward, its shape distorting grotesquely as a serpentine head forced itself free from the back of Quirrell's skull. Then another. And another. Each elongated neck split and multiplied, forming a writhing crown of snake-like heads, their maws opening wide as they hissed in discordant agony. The sound was deafening—layered, overlapping hisses that scraped against the nerves.
Quirrell collapsed to his knees with a bone-shaking thud.
His hands clawed desperately at his face as his fingers lengthened, nails darkening and curving into razor-sharp talons. His teeth pushed past his lips, stretching and reshaping into long, venomous fangs. His eyes burned briefly with terror—then narrowed into reptilian slits, glowing with feral malice.
Whatever humanity had once existed behind them vanished.
He dropped his hands and threw his head back, unleashing a thunderous, bestial roar as the transformation completed. A shockwave of magical force erupted outward, knocking loose debris from the ceiling and extinguishing several torches at once.
"A… Gorgon…" Merlin whispered, her voice barely audible.
Arthur reacted instantly, kicking himself up to his feet and gripping his sword tightly as his heart hammered in his chest.
'This isn't good,' he thought grimly. 'I've already burned through over half my magic fighting Trolls and Knights.'
Instinctively, he squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself.
"You idiot—keep your eyes open!" Merlin snapped furiously. "The turning-to-stone thing is only Medusa! That was her curse!"
She ground her teeth. "By the devil, I'm going to hit him over the head when this is over."
Arthur's eyes flew open just in time to see the monstrous Gorgon charging straight at him, claws tearing chunks from the stone floor as it barreled forward with a guttural growl.
"Arthur—!"
Before anyone else could react, Lance sprinted for his fallen sword, the scrape of his boots immediately drawing the creature's attention.
"Lance!" Gwyneth shouted.
Too late.
The Gorgon twisted unnaturally fast and struck. Lance barely had time to raise his sword defensively before he was smashed aside, sent flying through the air like a ragdoll. His body slammed violently into a stack of wooden crates, which exploded into splinters on impact.
Arthur appeared in front of the creature in a blur, swinging his blade in a powerful, deadly arc aimed straight for its neck.
The Gorgon leapt backward with terrifying agility, landing on all fours like a predatory beast. It snarled low in its throat, circling Arthur as its serpentine heads hissed independently, tracking every movement.
Gwyneth rushed to Lance's side, dragging him free of the wreckage while scooping up her rapier, her jaw clenched with fear and fury.
The Golden Trio raised their wands in unison
.
"Don't intervene—!" Merlin barked.
"Arthur can't fight that thing alone!" Ron shouted back.
"He's not going to," Merlin replied sharply, flicking her wand as an illusion shimmered into place around them. "That's a magical creature—high resistance to magic. Your spells will only manage to annoy it. You'll only draw its attention and get yourselves killed."
A low, guttural growl echoed nearby.
Merlin looked down just in time to see Sylvia crouched on all fours, muscles coiled, every hair on her body standing on end. Her eyes had shifted into draconic slits, locked onto the Gorgon with predatory intensity.
"Sylvia, don't," Merlin ordered firmly. "You're still weak. You'll only get in his way."
Sylvia responded with a defiant side-eye, her growl deepening.
'Children,' Merlin thought wearily.
She then let out a low, resonant rumble—completely incomprehensible to the Golden Trio, who stared in confusion.
It was Dragon Tongue.
Obey.
Sylvia growled softly but relented, sitting back on her haunches with her paws folded neatly in front of her, eyes downcast.
Merlin softened slightly.
"Don't worry," she said quietly, stepping out from the safety of the ward. Her hand slid to the top of her staff as she drew her sword smoothly from its scabbard. "I'll make sure to protect your father."
Ron stared at her in stunned disbelief.
"Does bloody everyone just happen to have a sword?!"
Gwyneth, breathing hard, managed to haul Lance upright with considerable effort, one arm slung tightly around his waist.
"Gosh—you're heavy," she huffed, gritting her teeth as she adjusted her grip. "Can you still stand?"
"Yeah…" Lance winced, one hand instinctively clutching his side as dark blood trickled from the corner of his mouth and down his temple. He spat to the side, his vision swimming. "But I'm pretty sure I cracked a rib."
He forced a crooked grin despite the pain. "Don't worry about it. I can push through. Come on—Arthur needs us."
Across the chamber, Arthur had been driven back until his shoulders hit cold stone.
The Gorgon lunged, its massive arm cocking back before slamming forward with brutal force. Arthur ducked at the last possible second. The creature's fist smashed through the dungeon wall instead, detonating stone and mortar in a violent explosion. Chunks of rock blasted outward, pelting Arthur's torso as dust filled the air.
Arthur rolled beneath the monster's arm and surged forward, blade flashing.
Steel bit deep into the Gorgon's hip.
A spray of thick, dark blood splattered across the ground, sizzling violently where it landed, eating into the stone with an acidic hiss. The beast howled in pain and fury, its serpentine heads shrieking in discord as it twisted back toward him.
Arthur barely had time to register the damage before his heart sank.
The wound was already knitting itself closed—flesh crawling and sealing unnaturally fast, scales reforming as though the blade had never touched it.
"That," Merlin said grimly as she stepped up beside Arthur, her sword gleaming in the flickering torchlight, "is one of the most terrifying things about a Gorgon."
She tightened her grip. "Its regeneration."
"Really?" Gwyneth squeaked, her bravado cracking as she stared at the creature. Her rapier trembled violently in her hands. "I would've guessed it was the face. Look at that thing—it's horrifying~"
Lance planted his scabbard against the ground and slowly pushed himself upright, his claymore sliding free with a heavy metallic rasp.
"You don't have to fight it," he said quietly, positioning himself between Gwyneth and the beast. "If you're too scared, that's fine."
"No."
Gwyneth's voice shook—but her hands didn't. She steadied her grip, knuckles whitening.
"I can't just stand back and watch all of you risk your lives fighting that thing," she said firmly as she then stood beside him. "I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I did."
Arthur allowed himself a brief smirk as he looked at them—bloodied, shaken, terrified… yet still standing.
Then the Gorgon shifted.
Its posture changed, serpentine heads drawing inward as its predatory focus sharpened. It was no longer wary.
It was about to strike again.
Arthur's expression hardened instantly.
"Everyone—don't let your guard down," he commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos with unmistakable authority. "Watch the snakes on its head. They strike independently and be sure to follow my lead. Am I clear?"
"Yes, sir!" the three replied instinctively, almost without realizing it.
From behind the illusion ward, the Golden Trio stared in stunned silence.
They watched as the four of them moved—not as individuals, but as a single, unified force.
For the first time in living memory—perhaps even in Hogwarts' long history—the Four Houses stood together in battle.
Gryffindor took the forefront, Arthur leading the charge with fearless resolve, blade raised high as he drew the monster's attention through sheer courage and command.
Ravenclaw supported from within the fray, Merlin weaving knowledge and ancient technique into every movement. Subtle enchantments surged through the group—strength sharpened, reflexes heightened, endurance bolstered—turning desperate fighters into something greater.
Slytherin struck with calculated precision. Lance darted in close whenever the opportunity arose, targeting tendons, joints, and vulnerable gaps beneath the creature's arms. Every strike was deliberate, every retreat timed to open the Gorgon up for the others to strike.
And Hufflepuff—
Terrified. Shaking. Yet still standing.
Gwyneth raised her sword and fought.
She hacked wildly at the snapping serpents lunging from the Gorgon's crown, her movements unrefined and clumsy, lacking grace or technique—but driven by raw determination. Every swing was fueled by loyalty. Every scream by the need to protect her friends, no matter the cost.
Steel rang. Magic flared. Blood burned against stone.
And in that dungeon, amid fear and fire, something ancient stirred.
This battle—this moment—would be remembered.
It would become the spark that ignited a legend both old and new.
The idea that the Four Houses could stand as equals.
Shoulder to shoulder.
Against a common threat.
The birth of this era's Knights of the Round Table.
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