He had been having a dream in which he was a robust, plump lady.
He knew that because he was wearing a painfully itching pink dress that hugged his large chest in a tight cage.
He sat on a high stool, surrounded by all sort of witchcraft and antique objects. Some of them lay in heaps in a corner; some were placed on two rickety tables to his left. Under the tables he could see two bowls full of grey-looking milk.
There were great paintings on the wall, covered in cobwebs. He coughed from the thick layers of dust that surrounded him everywhere he looked. There were cushions everywhere, a sea of yellow, red, blue and green. He could hear a clock chiming in the distance.
The light that streamed through the windows pierced his eyes painfully.
He thought it was the worst nightmare he had ever had.
He couldn't get up or move from the seat. He was paralyzed. No matter how hard he tried to move his legs they wouldn't cooperate at all. They seemed to be made of wax. He tried shouting, but no sound came out of his mouth. From time to time he could hear a strange gurgling coming from his throat.
He felt large beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. It felt like a giant wig had been thrown over his hair. He felt it would soon swallow him entirely.
The door of the room opened with a creaking and a handsome young man came in and bowed to him politely, kissing his hand with great fervour.
'You look very well in the morning, my dearest Madam Smith,' the young man said sweetly. He started talking to him about a goblet-made armour that was going to be shipped soon from Asia.
'It is a wonder to behold! We shall have it in our humble shop come next week. But I promise you, we shall keep it for you until you decide. We do take care of our best customers.'
'Oh, Tom, you are all politeness! But will you really save it for me?' a woman's voice erupted in his ears. It was a high-shrilled voice that sounded like shards of glass coated in honey.
It took only a moment or two before he realised it was his own voice.
He offered the young man a cup of tea.
'Hokey! Hokey dear! Come bring some tea! And a bit of cake for me! The strawberry one!' she shouted.
A tiny house-elf appeared at her side. He swore she was the oldest house-elf he had seen in his life. She wore a linen sheet around her puny body. Her head barely reached her mistress' chair and she seemed to make a big effort to carry those heavy-looking trays full of saucers and plates.
Zacharias bent down unwillingly to take a bite of cake. He saw the lady's fat little fingers and pink nails holding the silver fork.
He felt disgusted. How much he wanted the dream to go away!
'Shall we go have a walk about the rooms afterwards? I would like to see your new treasures,' the young man spoke at length. 'It would make my dull day much more interesting. I have so much paper work to do today. I won't have anything beautiful to look at.'
'Well, I think I could take a walk with you, Tom, if I'm not bad company,' she said.
'You know, madam, you could never be so, even if you tried.'
The sinister smile on the young man's face made Zacharias feel very ill. All he wanted to do was to fall asleep again and maybe drop into another dream.
But no matter how hard he squeezed his eyes shut, the young man's face was projected in darkness as clear as in daylight. Even if he closed his mind, a secret crevice would open and the young man would sneak in and he would hear more compliments and more gibberish about artefacts.
He always woke up from the dream with the horrible fear of having turned into a woman. He would throw the covers and look at his body or touch his face to feel the tiny moustache above his lips. He would even run to the mirror to see if he was still Zacharias.
One night, he woke up late after midnight with a terrible headache, drenched in sweat and fear. He was parched. He emptied goblet after goblet of water, but the thirst remained in his body, like a small fire that slowly scorched his throat. He walked about the room trying to sort out his thoughts, but they only confused him more.
He put his cloak on hastily and decided to go for a walk, even if it was so late and he risked getting a severe detention. But that did not matter to him right now.
He lingered on the corridors, trying to get a certain image out of his head, trying to quench a certain thirst.
His dreams had started the moment he had joined the DA.
Perhaps he should quit. He had had a bad feeling about it from the start. Maybe it was time to leave that group. His dreams seemed like a form of dreadful punishment. But punishment for what? For breaking the rules?
What if, in his dreams, he was Umbridge?
He shook his head vigorously. The man had called him Madam Smith. He had called him by his last name. He thought that maybe this had been his grandmother, the one that had died before his birth, but his father had told him that she lived in a humble little house and she never collected anything but broidery. She would have to be quite rich to have all those objects. But then maybe it was someone else from his family. Whoever it was, it was a very silly woman.
His head hurt so much he didn't even want to think about it.
'Where should I go? What must I do?' he questioned himself.
He didn't want to go to his Head of House. That would be very silly. He couldn't bother teachers for mere dreams. And he couldn't talk to anyone because all his mates were asleep. But even if he had a friend to talk to, he couldn't trust him with this farfetched story. He would probably laugh at him. And he didn't have many friends.
Then it dawned on him. The Room of Requirement!
It was a room designed to be useful to those in need. That's where he would go, to have peace for one night. He would find some comfort there.
He rushed to the Seventh Floor and arrived at the blank wall. He walked three times in front of it, thinking hard "I want a place where I cannot be disturbed".
He pushed open the door anxiously and got in, shutting it loudly behind him.
He saw a beautiful white room, with tall, bright windows and cushions spread on the floor. There were plants full of beautiful flowers across the room. A chair was in the middle.
He sat down relieved. There was a certain perfume in the air. He saw a soft carpet at his feet. He sank his toes in it thankfully.
But his peace did not last long. Many objects started appearing around him; father clocks, cups and saucers, sofas, paintings, goblets, bowls, horns, quills all thrown into dust and decay. Samovars full of boiling tea were flying above his head like birds. He felt his stomach clenching.
He looked down and saw his long dress falling to the floor.
His scream was echoed only by the walls.
The very next day, Zacharias quit the DA.