Tony was convinced that no one knew the dungeons as well as him, not even the ghosts, which was ludicrous but might also be true because most people approached the befuddling malleability of the castle with impatience and despair. Tony, on the other hand, seemed to adore the intricacies of magical architecture and the dizzying layers of spells that kept these walls together, sometimes, when they felt like it. And the dungeons, of course, were not only home, but the very foundations of those charms, hexes, illusions and elbow grease. So when, after being led by the actual ear by Pepper to keep on task and get his House under control like he was supposed to, and the boys' dormitories had been convinced to settle for the night, finally, and she had gone off to the girls', when Tony had slithered free of the tedious parts of this crisis, of course that was where he thought the solution would be. They could just get out from under it. And if Tony managed that alone, well, he had this blanket draped over his head like a cloak that was doing so well to combat the damp chill down here, it could probably hold up against a giant spider for at least ten seconds.