Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Challenges and Assignments. Assignment #8.
Charms, task 1: Write about someone discovering a part of Hogwarts nobody else has been in for years (Room of Requirement, Chamber of Secrets, anything covered by the books can not be used)
Word count: 1,582
She found it in her first year. She was in the library, dutifully reading an unexciting book (assigned by a teacher), when she realised she'd much rather read another. She wandered through the endless rows of shelves, not reading the titles. At the back of the library was where she found it. A small, worn leather book without a title (title-less, just like her). Intrigued, she lifted it from the shelf. At the back of the case, where the book once was, a small golden lock rested against the wood. Laying below it was a small golden key. She picked it up. Intricate designs decorated the handle, and the key itself seemed fragile, easily broken.
Carefully, she put the key into the lock and turned her wrist. A tiny click indicated the key had worked. But nothing seemed to have happened. Not until she saw the wall. The bare space of stone wall next to the bookcase was no longer blank. A wooden door had appeared there (out of sight from the others). She set the book back into its place, then, taking the key with her, opened the door.
A room awaited her. The only thing in it was a small desk and a chair, covered in dust, pushed to the wall. It was quite small, and looked as though it had been unused for years (a meeting room for the founders). She brushed a stray piece of her long, platinum blonde waves out of her face. Her blue eyes widened with excitement: finally, a place she had to herself.
Not long after, she moved her music there. The other Ravenclaws often complained about the loud notes from her violin (he wouldn't care; he would love it, but she hadn't met him yet), and she needed a place to practise. With time, a pile of books grew on the desk. Parchment, magicked with blank staffs followed. Several quills and a bottle of ink were left there, reminiscent of her forgetful day-dreaminess.
She grew to love the room, her little hideout from the children who called her crazy, loony. It was hers and hers alone for over two years. She didn't mind the solitude, and rarely wished for a companion. When she did, she'd close her eyes, lift her bow to the strings, and play away her heartache.
He found the room in his fourth year (her third). He was hiding in the library. The Gryffindor common room was overflowing in a party, and he'd needed to get away. It's not that he didn't like Harry, he was quite nice to him, really, but the noise was too much. So he'd gone to the library. It was empty save a few Hufflepuffs, who were glaring at him, as though he were to blame for the fourth champion's victory (he wasn't, it had never been him, no matter how close it had come).
He was walking past the shelf when he knocked over the book (bound with leather). He had always been the clumsy one, so he didn't think much as bent down over the title-less book. As he slid it into its place on the shelf, he noticed something. A small golden lock was on the back of the book case. Curious, he opened the book. Out fell a golden key (she always kept it in the book), no doubt the match to the lock. He unlocked it. Nothing happened. Not until a wooden door appeared in the previously blank stone wall next to him.
Into the room he walked. A music stand stood in the corner, an instrument case next to it. A desk was on the opposite wall. A stack of books was there (Muggle books, the kind she always read). So was a piece of parchment, with a treble clef and staff, half-filled with notes. An ink bottle and a handful of quills was there, too. This room had been used recently (it was hers).
He found a blank parchment from his pocket. He used one of the quills (the blue one, her favourite) and wrote a message: Hello. Then he left. He came back, to see if it was gone, the next day. It wasn't (she would come back tomorrow).
She was standing by the bookcase (he called it the Magic Bookcase), waiting. Her blue eyes stared at an old leather book (the one without a title). A scrap of parchment was in her pocket (she'd keep it forever). A smile was on her face (he'd later learn to love it). A song was in her heart (someday he'd help her play it).
He was waiting, too. Standing, staring at the same shelf.
"Why are you here?" he asked her (he knew then the room was hers).
"I'm waiting for someone," she said (her tone was light and airy).
"Who?"
"I don't know." (She didn't care that she didn't know).
"Why?"
"I got a note," she said (she was always so quick to open up to people). She took the parchment out of her pocket. Hello was all it said.
"That was me."
"Was it?" (She sounded amused). "Let's go, then."
She and he entered the room together. He asked her to play her music. She did. She played a slow tune, but it was happy (he loved it). She and he talked (she loved it). She had a friend (he did, too). They shared their secrets (his parents would never get better).
So it went. She and he, visiting the little room, talking and playing and reading (she and he loved it).
In her fourth year (his fifth), she was composing (like the music he found the time he found the room). She played through the song, never missing a note. It was fast and slow in all the right parts, the notes blended perfectly (she even plucked the strings twice).
"Do you like it?" (She'd only just started asking his help).
"It was beautiful." (Not only the song, but his friend).
"Nothing needs fixing?" (She refused to believe she didn't need fixing, no matter how much he told her).
"Play it again."
She did. She was halfway through when he interrupted (trying not to be rude).
"There. That note. Play it longer."
"The accidental?" she laughed. Most people didn't like accidentals (but he wasn't most people). She started over. She held out the g-sharp. He told her he loved it (not only the song, but his friend). She said she was going to teach him to play.
"I can't. I'm clumsy." (He was surprised at how quickly she gave up the fight).
She came back from winter holidays. She and he met in their room (so glad to meet again). She pulled something out of her pocket (he didn't know what it was). She tapped it with her wand (it grew tall).
"A giant violin?" he asked (he would never stop asking her questions).
"A cello." (She would never stop answering his questions).
"You play more instruments?"
"Yes. Let me teach you." And this time, he did (it wasn't long until she and he could play duets).
They were in their fifth-and-a-half year (her fifth, his sixth). He got a note wrong (he was better at rhythms). She corrected him, placed her hand on his (they knew then how much that meant). They finished the duet (hoped to never finish their duet).
They sat down to read (they'd moved beanbags in last month). They each flipped pages with one hand (held their other hands together).
In December, she was asked to Slughorn's party (it was Potter). She smiled sadly and said she couldn't go (because of homework, she said; because of my cello-player, she meant).
He laughed when she told him (that she'd turned down the Boy Who Lived). Called her a liar (she would lie all day for him). Said he didn't think she had it in her (of course not, she didn't have it in her to lie to him).
In February, she asked to go on a walk (spring had come early). He said yes (he would always say yes to her). They held hands (they always did now). They thought nothing of it (they had no secrets from each other). No one saw for the longest time (only a few lone Hufflepuffs circled the pitch). They came back inside (that's when they were found). The other girl (from his House) approached them. She seemed surprised (they were holding hands).
In a week, everyone knew (they didn't care). They spent so much time together (in their little room).
"The other couples kiss," she pointed out (he loved her bluntness).
"They do." (Nothing to do but acknowledge).
"Do you wish we kissed?" (Her head was tilted, her hair was perfect).
"We don't have to." (She was his, and that was enough).
"I want to." (So they did).
"Are we a real couple now?" she asked him (he didn't know what that meant).
"When weren't we?" he replied (she knew what that meant).
"Never," she whispered (it was true).
(And they played their duet till the day they died).
Accidental: a flat, sharp, or natural written into music that isn't part of the key signature.