The Second Infiltration

Okay, Evelyn. You've got maybe twenty minutes before someone realizes that the 'catastrophic structural damage' in the dungeons is just enhanced Dungbombs and some creative acoustics. Time to channel your inner cat burglar.

The ward in front of her was still intimidating, but she could see the gaps now. Dumbledore's attention was split, and the magical barrier reflected that distraction. It was like trying to solve a puzzle while someone was asking you about your day—technically possible, but significantly more annoying.

She pulled out her pathetic starter wand and began the delicate process of unraveling the ward's outer layers. The magic resisted her, but without the headmaster's full focus behind it, she could work around the defenses rather than through them.

It's like playing a rhythm game with lag. Technically doable, but requires perfect timing and a lot of patience.

The process took longer than she'd hoped. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she carefully teased apart the magical threads, each one requiring precise manipulation to avoid triggering the ward's alarm systems. Her game knowledge helped—she knew the theoretical structure of most protective enchantments—but the practical application was like trying to perform surgery with oven mitts.

Note to self: when I finally get my legendary wand, the first thing I'm doing is learning proper ward-breaking techniques. This is embarrassing.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the ward flickered and died. The door to the third-floor corridor stood open, no longer protected by Dumbledore's formidable defenses. She could hear the distant sounds of professors still investigating her distraction below.

Phase one complete. Now for the fun part—convincing a three-headed dog to let me give it a haircut.

She slipped through the door and immediately noticed the absence of music. The corridor was eerily quiet, with only the sound of massive canine breathing echoing from the chamber ahead. Fluffy was fully awake and alert.

Well, this is a problem. No convenient musical sedation courtesy of Professor Quirrell. Guess I'll have to provide my own entertainment.

She reached into her expanded bag and pulled out her backup plan—a second music box, identical to the one she'd crafted for the Merpeople. She'd made it as a test piece, wanting to perfect the design before creating the tribute. The silver and mother-of-pearl construction gleamed in the dim light, and she could feel the melancholic melody contained within its enchanted mechanism.

Thank Merlin for redundant crafting. Though I really hope this works as well on three-headed dogs as it does on aquatic humanoids.

She wound the music box carefully, then set it down at the entrance to Fluffy's chamber. The haunting melody began to play, its notes echoing through the stone corridor with ethereal beauty. The tune was designed to evoke deep emotions—longing, nostalgia, the bittersweet ache of distant memories.

Come on, you oversized guard dog. Nobody can resist a good lullaby, not even creatures with three sets of opinions about music.

The effect was immediate. She could hear the massive creature's breathing change, becoming slower and more rhythmic. The melody seemed to resonate through the stone walls, creating a cocoon of peaceful sound that wrapped around the chamber.

Perfect. Now I just need to time this right. The box will play for about ten minutes before winding down, which should give me plenty of time to work.

She crept down the corridor, her enhanced senses picking up the massive dog's breathing patterns. Fluffy was settling into sleep, but she could tell it was a lighter slumber than what Quirrell's harp had provided. The music box was working, but she'd need to be extra careful not to wake the beast.

Easy does it. You're not trying to wake the dragon, you're trying to trim its toenails. Very different skill set.

She approached the massive three-headed dog with the careful precision of someone who'd spent way too many hours farming rare materials in video games. The Cerberus was even more impressive in person—each head was the size of a small car, and its breath could probably kill a troll.

Definitely not a starting zone enemy. This is more like a raid boss that some sadistic game designer decided to put in the tutorial level.

Working quickly, she cast a Confundus Charm on the sleeping beast, weaving the magic carefully to avoid waking it. The spell would ensure that even if Fluffy woke up, it would be disoriented enough to give her a few precious seconds to escape.

Now for the hard part. Cerberus whiskers are apparently like unicorn hair—they have to be given freely, or they lose their magical properties. Which means I need to convince a three-headed dog to donate to my crafting project.

She'd found the loophole in the ancient texts: if the creature was dreaming, and the whisker was taken during a pleasant dream, it counted as being "freely given." The trick was inducing the right kind of dream.

Time for some amateur dream therapy. I really hope this works, because explaining to Madam Pomfrey why I got mauled by a three-headed dog is going to be awkward.

She cast a modified Legilimens, not to read the creature's thoughts but to gently influence its dreams. The spell was delicate, requiring her to project feelings of contentment and trust. She found herself thinking of her own pets from her previous life—the satisfaction of a well-fed cat, the simple joy of a dog with a favorite toy.

Come on, Fluffy. Dream about whatever three-headed dogs dream about. Giant tennis balls? Really big mailmen to chase? The philosophical implications of having three different taste preferences?

The magic took hold, and she felt the creature's dreams shift. One of the heads let out a soft whimper, but it was the sound of a content animal, not a disturbed one. Perfect.

Working with infinite care, she selected a single whisker from the left head—the one that seemed to be having the most pleasant dream. The whisker was as thick as a violin string and hummed with contained magical energy.

This is it. This is the material that's going to make my legendary wand possible. Also, it's slightly terrifying that I'm holding part of a creature that could eat me in two bites.

She carefully placed the whisker in a specially prepared container, one lined with preservation charms to maintain its magical properties. The moment it was secured, she felt her quest log update with a satisfying chime.

ACQUIRE CERBERUS WHISKER - COMPLETED. Finally! Now I just need to get out of here before—

The music box wound down to silence.

Oh, bollocks.