Just a mundane day at my mundane office in a mundane year in my mundane life, working at a mundane hour among mundane prisoners. Rhetorical prisoners. Prisoners at the University of Literature headed by the infamous Garrett Matthews.
I, Saul Theodore, swore never to head any office, that is if I survived my two-year bondage here, the way Matthews did. He was only bereft of a cane to shepherd us around.
I passed college in English Literature with flying colors at the age of twenty one, surprising family and teachers alike, in the July of 1997 and joined the University in November on three year bondage at the recommendation of my favorite Professor Farrow (now, not so favorite after spending almost a year here). I was interviewed for the post of teaching about William Shakespeare. The only person not surprised by all my success was my elder sister, Vanessa. She had more faith in my abilities than her own. She often told me that. I strongly kept my opinion on that, that she was one of the – scratch that, the most – brilliant person I ever had the honor of meeting. There was not a thing she could not do without her brilliance, talent, charm and tenderness.
I snapped out of my reverie as Matthews walked past me, giving me a long hard stare. I looked away and continued marking the tests in front of me, frowning slightly. He gave me the impression that he did not like me. Probably it was because of the age difference between the staff and me. Since I never gave him a chance to complaint about my work, he could not openly dislike me.
I was sitting in the Staff Room at the chair allotted to me by Matthews. No one dared change their seat, fearing Matthews response. However, even Matthews's mood never spoiled the cheery environment of the room. It had large windows facing the well-groomed gardens of the University. (Now, not bright due to the inexplicable fogs.) The room itself was decorated with potted plants all around the wooden cupboards, each bearing the name of a teacher. Many a times, I found myself alone in the room. Maybe the elder teachers were just bored of the cheery surroundings. Maybe they were looking for something reflecting their mood.
So here, I was sitting in the Staff Room, marking the 'surprise' tests I had given my first year students last Friday. Sometimes 'surprise' tests amused me but mostly, they were just boring, mechanically written by frantic students. I was always reminded of one test paper I had marked from my first set of tests. The student, Rowan Zabini, had interpreted one of Shakespeare's sonnets as a rich history about some school called Hogwarts for witches and wizards, founded by a group of four people. The answer had immensely amused me.
I called Rowan to my chair in the Staff Room.
"Mr. Zabini, I was marking the tests you had appeared for in the fall and I was rather surprised by one of your, might I say, 'interpretation'," I said, looking at him carefully.
There was a few minutes of silence where Rowan shifted uneasily, frowning. He stole a look at me, but finding me looking back at him, he immediately looked away.
"I'm not saying it wasn't any good but unnecessary in the context of the question. You have quite an imagination, I should say," I told him, trying to thaw him.
He bit his lip and finally fixed his gaze at my watch.
"Family heirloom," I said, smiling.
He looked up at me but did not return the smile.
"Sir… I am sorry. I shouldn't have written that," he said, in what seemed like well rehearsed words.
"How many times have you said the same words and to how many people?" I asked curiously.
He looked up at me, surprised.
"How did you…" he managed to whisper.
"Your mechanic words," I answered. "Well, then! You didn't answer my question."
He took a deep breath. "Sir, what I wrote isn't imagination," he started, looking out of the window and scratching his nose, idly. "I read about something like that, probably a joke, in one of elder brother's letters. I just built up on that. Therefore, it was not imagination. At least not mine," he ended bitterly.
"Rowan, whatever you tell me here will not be passed on. Your word is safe with me," I told him, worry creasing my forehead. I could read the desperation in his flitting eyes.
"You wouldn't believe me," he laughed wryly, looking me square in the eyes.
"Try me."
"Well then. It is all true. From Hogwarts to the evil wizard," he told me, leaning in with a mad glint in his eyes. "I belong to a pureblood family that is my whole family is magical but oddly I was left out of the fun. My half brother, mum's favorite, got the letter years ago. And, seeing as I'm useless," – he said, spitefully- "my mum sent me to here, to fend for myself in the muggle world."
"Now, son, I'm sure your parents don't hate you," I started, soothingly.
I guessed this was just pent-up emotions showing up in the form of hallucinations.
"You don't know her and I don't have parents. My dad died years ago. Many people blame my mother," he told me, adding the last part absently. Then, realizing what he had just said, his face flushed. "I-I didn't mean that," he said, sheepishly.
Before I could say anything else, he got up in a hurry and left.
This incident stuck out in memories as if trying to tell me something. One particular night when I woke up from dreaming about the school yet again, I decided to do something.
The next morning I told my class (the one with Rowan Zabini) to submit an essay about anything. Anything that set their imagination running. If I were right, Rowan would write about the school. I was not sure why I wanted to know about it but I just guessed I wanted to help the poor ignored boy.
I was right about my analysis of his personality. Sure as Garrett's daily frown, Rowan wrote about Hogwarts, the admission letter received at the age of twelve, the shopping centre at Diagon Alley and the train at platform nine and three quarters. He expressed his concern about not having received the letter. Then he continued on to write stories his brother, Blaise, told him every Christmas and summer. I knew more about Hogwarts from that paper or rather bundle than I knew about my own school building. Something rather frightening was also in there, an apparent explanation for the perpetual fog in the hot month of May. An evil wizard called 'You-Know-Who' after an orphan, Harry Potter, whose minions the Dementors could create an environment of sadness. Maybe it was a metaphor the University, its' teachers and Matthews.
I decided to take it to University's counselor, Michael Clay, for help. The moment the name, Rowan, was out of my mouth; Michael refused directly to help me. No matter how much I opposed to his views about the 'incorrigible loon', he would not listen.
Back to where I actually was, Saturday, Second of May 1998. I had a weird feeling since morning that this date was somehow important. After making sure none of my relatives had a birthday (first the calendar, then my mom), I shook off the feeling and carried on with my life.
"Theodore," somebody growled behind me, making me start since I had my back to the door.
I turned around, expecting Matthews to be standing there, baring his teeth at me but it was someone else entirely. A limping apparition was before me, leaning on his stick for support. He was wearing dirty robes, covered with mud and his hair stood at edges as if he had fallen from a height. He looked middle aged. However, the most astonishing and ominous features were his eyes on his terribly scarred face. One was normal but the other electric blue and rolling in its socket. I almost suffered a heart attack when it vanished from the socket altogether.
"Saul Theodore?" he growled again, questioningly. His face was set in a perpetual grimace.
For a moment, I considered lying but I somehow I could tell that it would serve no purpose in front of this man.
"Y-yes," I said in a voice that was braver than I felt.
"Come with me," he said, turning around.
I was not going to follow a total stranger without any knowledge so I did not budge.
"Well," he said, impatiently looking over his shoulder.
"Well?" I asked, again in a voice that definitely did not belong to me.
He sighed and turned around to face me.
"He told me you wouldn't be easy to get," he murmured more to himself than me.
I did not respond. I doubted the man's sanity and was ready to call for security; I was just gathering my energy for the screaming and fighting since he did not look like a man who would go down without a fight.
"I'm Alastor Moody," he told me, cocking his head and giving me a cheeky smile as if he knew what was going through my mind. "Calling the security would not be a very nice thing to do for a guest, would it now?" he said confirming my doubts.
Well, you sure are not acting like a guest, are you? I thought, my breath quickening with fear.
"You are out of options. Why don't you just follow me? I will take you to a person whom you trust."
He turned around when I did not respond. My curiosity got the better of me and I started to follow. He led me through the dark quiet corridors. Has so much time passed since lunch, I wondered.
We went up a flight of stairs I had not even known existed. However, I had also never seen the door we had just come from either. We stopped in front of an ancient door with a brass knocker.
Moody turned around to face me.
"This will take you to the place you are truly needed tonight," he said to me. "Hogwarts," he added, with a hint of a shine in his eyes.
I almost choked on air. I could not believe my ears. Was I dreaming? I must have dozed off in my chair or something but no matter how much I tried, I could not seem to wake up. I felt like I was trapped in a tunnel with no end.
"Who told you about that?" was all I could manage.
He raised his eyebrows. "Not only was I a student there but I've even taught there. Defense Against The Dark Arts. My subject," he informed.
"This is not happening. Is this some sick joke?" I asked, feeling ill.
Before he could answer though, the door swung inwards and there stood a man, I had known the longest. The man I saw everyday but there was something different about him. His hairs were whiter than I knew and his face, a little more wrinkled. He chuckled and I realized my mouth had fallen open.
"This is just a dream. I have to wake up," I told myself, laughing maniacally, stepping back. "What if Matthews sees me sleeping!"
"Old friend," the man behind the door greeted me, smiling apologetically. "Let me explain everything inside and if this is a dream we cannot hurt you."
"Don't you 'old friend' me," I cried. "You are… me!"
He laughed in a voice deeper than I had. "Well, not many men can say that they've seen their older forms."
The elder Saul turned on his heel and entered the ornately decorated room. Cascading tapestries covered the pearl colored walls. The floor was inlaid with a rich red carpet. There were a few other doors at regular intervals. The ceiling was high up in the form of a cone, the walls covered with sculptured plaster of Paris. There were a few comfortable looking sofas lying around the room surrounding a glass table, which was cluttered with papers. Another man sat with a woman in one of the sofas.
The man had black hair and an extremely handsome face that looked tired beyond its years. The woman was younger and vibrant looking with shiny green eyes. Both of them turned to look at me.
"You look just like Saul, here," the woman joked, her eyes twinkling.
The elder Saul laughed in that deep voice of his again.
"Saul… Wow, its weird addressing someone else with the same name, especially if the 'someone else' is you," he said, smiling at me. "Meet Azalea Mitch and Sirius Black. Az and Sirius, meet, well, me."
"Hey," Azalea said, waving slightly.
Sirius just nodded and started flipping through the papers nervously.
"I think we have weightier topics to discuss than our names," Alastor growled, shutting the door behind him and joining Sirius in flipping the papers.
"Of course!" Older Saul said.
"Uh…," I murmured, standing behind a plush-looking sofa and staring at everyone shifting stacks of paper.
"Saul, sit down," Azalea told me.
I obliged.
"She's right. You'll have to sit down for what comes next," Older Saul sighed. "Saul… I am just gonna refer to you as Muggle Saul, alright? Well, um…"
"Get started already," Sirius spoke for the first time. His voice had a ring to it that reminded me of dogs. His eyes shone brightly with anger as he spoke.
Azalea gripped Sirius' hand reassuringly. Their eyes met and Sirius let out a deep breath. A look of total helplessness and despair crossed his features but he regained his composure, freeing his hand and staring at a piece of parchment.
Azalea shifted towards Older Saul who was seated next to her. He looked at her and put his arm across her shoulders. She leaned her head against his chest and murmured something to him.
"Muggle Saul, there's a thing we all need you to do. Um, I'll make it clear to you that you'll be risking your life but it's worth it," he said, stealing a glance at Azalea. "Muggle Saul, you have to fight a battle that will rage in a couple of hours. It is called the Battle of Hogwarts. It's between Harry Potter and You-Know-Who."
"Voldemort," Sirius murmured, absently.
Suddenly, every word Rowan had written came back to me as clear as day. I blanched. This couldn't be true. This had to be a dream. I pinched my arm but nothing changed. Saul and Azalea still stared while Alastor and Sirius read a sheet of paper together, whispering constantly and waving a twig over the sheet.
"I know you know everything about it already," Saul said, a cocky smile on his face. "Rowan's paper. I still remember it, word-for-word."
My mouth opened and closed several times before I just sighed and sank my head in my palms, wishing for this to go away.
"Muggle Saul," Saul whispered softly to me, putting a warm hand on my shoulder. "It's worth it. Nevertheless, you have a choice. You can walk away and pretend it was a dream. Mind you, I do not know what would happen and it will surely throw the world out of balance but screw that, I say you stay! Stay and fight it out. I know you can do it because I did it."
I looked up into my older mirror reflection, doubting my sanity altogether. Seeing the resolve and honesty shining in Saul's eyes, I thought that if this were a dream, which it was, I would be up in a while. Nothing could hurt me. I decided to go along.
I nodded silently.
A huge grin spread across Elder Saul's face.
"I knew it! That's my man," he cried, clapping my shoulder.
I continued to stare waiting for my orders. Elder Saul looked disappointed by the lack of response.
"Well, now that we have reached a decision, let's get on to tell you our plan," Azalea said, nudging Sirius lightly.
Sirius looked up from the papers. Sighing, he handed me the paper he was holding. It looked like a plan of some building. There were dots moving all along the paper. I almost dropped it in surprise. There were ribbons above the dots bearing names. I moved the plan closer to my eyes. There were different floors mentioned, each with a dot moving across repeatedly as if on guard. A few floors apart starting from the Dungeons there was a concentration of dots at rest.
I looked up, wordlessly, expecting some explanation.
"This, my dear friend, is Hogwarts," Elder Saul said, his eyes glittering. "Everything you need to know about that place is on that map made by our extremely talented friend, Sirius."
"My-no-our first attempt had been better," Sirius, told me. "But this one will do as well."
He took no more than fifteen minutes to help me memorize the map. At a few places, like the Shrieking Shack, he paused for a second, a dark look crossing his features. Something about this whole castle and this 'plan' was setting Sirius to an edge and somehow I felt that I would find out soon enough what it was.
"A Ravenclaw for sure," Moody growled, as I recited the places Sirius had told me about without even consulting the map.
Azalea and Elder Saul laughed. Even Sirius smiled.
I remembered what Ravenclaw meant. A school house that represented wisdom. In a nutshell, it housed the nerds. Damn right, I would belong there.
"Now, onto the history, my friend," Elder Saul announced. "Sirius, if you would."
Sirius grit his teeth, as if bracing himself for what lay ahead.
"Voldemort," he whispered, spitefully. "He started an army called the Death Eaters consisting of those willing to kill for 'the greater good'. He promised them power in return. Control over the wizarding as well as the muggle world. They had formed a hierarchy. Pureblood witches and wizards led the ranking order. Muggles, the bottom and even lower they considered were the muggleborns. The ones who had no direct or indirect connection to the wizarding world yet still had magic flowing through their blood. I assume you know about Harry. His parents were my best friends," he hesitated, the words getting stuck in his throat.
He looked away and buried his head in his hands.
"They were the good ones. Voldemort killed them," Moody completed as Azalea whispered into Sirius' ear.
"I'm sorry," I mumbled, looking at my feet.
"And you are the only one who can help us," Sirius said, sounding brave but his eyes betrayed him.
I got a feeling that Sirius was used to hiding his real emotions.
"Harry Potter is my grandson," Sirius said, handing me a photograph.
It was a picture of a young boy, his green eyes, like his godfather's, holding intense sadness. I almost dropped the picture when Harry awkwardly scratched his neck.
"He's never been too good with pictures. Always the nervous kind," Sirius said, softly and fondly, mistaking my surprise for the movement rather than the fact that the picture moved at all.
"Grown over his years…" Azalea mumbled to herself. "A prophecy spoken years ago revealed that the only one who can destroy the Dark Lord is the person who's picture you're holding. 'Neither can live while the other survives.' So, bidden to destroy the little boy, Voldemort began searching for him. Dumbledore, the greatest wizard, the only one Voldemort ever feared and Hogwarts Headmaster until he was murdered last year," she stopped, as if to pay respects. "Well, Dumbledore and the Order of the Pheonix, the good people, did everything in their power to protect Harry-"
"And we did. We did until one of us gave us away," Sirius said, venomously.
"Everyone thought it was Sirius. He spent twelve years in Azkaban, a wizard prison, for it," Elder Saul said, solemnly.
"That is not the point here," Sirius said, shaking his head.
I realized my mouth was hanging open. I quickly closed and stared at my feet.
"The plan. Now, that's something you need," Sirius said, getting up and pacing in front of me. "We will send you about half an hour earlier. You will arrive into the Headmaster's office. Severus Snape-," he hesitated, as if he was not sure about this part of the plan, "-will be… well, there. In addition, Dumbledore's portrait. Well, you will see it when you get there, do not give me that look. Next, Snape will leave and join the other side. Forget that part. Too long a story. Then, the Battle will start. First, you will go inform the House Elves of this. You know the way-"
"Ask for Kreacher. Tell him that his master would want him to do this. His master would be proud. There will be a lot of panicking students on the way. Do not attract attention towards yourself. They will realize that you are not of the magic folk," Elder Saul added.
"The corridors will clear out soon. Everybody will gather in the Great Hall. Do not go there. Go to the North Tower and alert Professor Trelawney. Look for the Divination classroom on the map. Tell her that her crystal balls will finally find their use. Be as vague as possible and leave before she questions. It would be advisable not to look at the gates," Azalea said.
"Now jump down to the dungeons and go to the potions closet. Collect as many potions as you and leave them outside the Great Hall. Again, avoid being seen. Wait! Exchange going to the North Tower with going to the dungeons else you might be caught. Once you hear the children or some professors approaching do not be seen at any cost. They will not understand your presence in there," Elder Saul took the chance to fill the silence after Azalea.
"After the North Tower, search the map for Peeves. He is a poltergeist. Incite and excite him. Tell him McGonagall has herself ordered his presence to save the castle. Tell him it's his chance to wreak havoc with her permission," Sirius said, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
They all fell silent, pondering over the plan. I revised the steps in my mind. Kitchens, dungeons, North Tower and Peeves. Kitchens, dungeons, North Tower and Peeves. I chanted it repeatedly seeing the places in my head as it was on the map.
"The map will be a lot of help, seeing we don't want you to be seen," Sirius said, slowly, thinking.
"Then?" I prompted.
"Then the Battle starts," Moody, growled lowly.
I breathed in sharply.
"Stay out of the way," Elder Saul, told me looking me in the eye.
I held his gaze, trying to read his eyes but they did not betray any emotion.
"What's going to happen?" I asked, softly, still looking at Saul.
"It's not going to be pretty," Azalea, answered, before Saul had opened his mouth. "It's a war, after all. People will die. Save only if you can. Do not feel guilty. You do not own the prowess of magic and we understand. We are just sending you to initiate what we cannot and what will help. Do only that you see fit."
"The things that follow will lead to the death of many good people, including my best friend and his wife. However, the overall outcome… It was good, Saul, not perfect, but good," Sirius told me, smiling. A smile reached his eyes.
I silently wondered how many best friends this broken man had lost. This was turning out to be a long dream.
"That is what we ask of you. Further, it is your choice to stay or return. To return, retrace your steps back to the Headmaster's Office," Moody, told me.
"Oh, and do not lose the map. It can create a lot of troubles in the hands of some Death Eater," Sirius added as an afterthought. "Voldemort's minions," he added, reading my confused expression.
"What about Harry Potter? What will happen to him?" I asked, out of curiosity and sympathy for the young man whose picture I was still holding.
"It's going to be hard for him but he will survive. He will save the day," Azalea, said with a small smile.
"Who- Who is your best friend?" I blurted out the question, looking at Sirius.
If I was going to help, I wanted to try my best.
"Remus Lupin," Sirius said, with a sympathetic smile. "You can't do anything, especially without magic."
"Can't you, like, you know, give me magic or something?" I asked.
Elder Saul laughed.
"You are born with magic," Moody said, a smile twitching at the sides of his lips.
I reddened. It was a mere question.
"You know what? I want you to try my wand," Azalea said, standing up and handing me a long polished twig.
I took it, examining it curiously.
"Flick it and say, 'Lumos'," she told me, flicking an imaginary wand in the air.
I flicked and murmured the word. Nothing happened. I looked around, expectantly. Elder Saul burst out laughing again.
I gave him a look, which shut him up.
"So why do you think that this all that I will do will help and why me?" I asked. The question had been running around my head for a while now.
"Because it helped earlier and why you… Well, there never was an answer to that was there?" Elder Saul said. "Time is a funny thing, my friend. This," he said, gesturing towards the room, "has happened before and we had to do it again in order for things to be the same as before. Parallel worlds… Running together, repeatedly. A never ending cycle of events and tragedies."
That was not the answer I was looking for but I knew that this was all I was going to get from these four. I felt a little disappointed that I might wake up before getting the real answers.
Azalea rose and got me a glass of some drink I did not recognize.
"Butterbeer," she murmured, as an answer to my questioning gaze.
I took a cautious sip. It tasted amazing. It slid down my throat, calming my senses. I reorganized my thoughts, making decisions and consulting the map, repeatedly.
"It's time," Sirius murmured, looking away from me, as if scared.
My breaths became shallow under seconds. I was beginning to realize that this was more than just a dream.
The three rose, joining Sirius in towering above me. I got up too, losing my balance. Moody's strog hand caught me by the arm. I reddened.
"Best of luck," Moody growled, clasping my hand. "Remember! Constant Vigilance!"
Sirius clapped my shoulder.
"Don't get yourself into trouble," he said, a small smile playing on his lips.
"Take care, Saul," Azalea said, standing on tiptoe to hug me.
"Hugging me would be weird," Saul said, shaking my hand too.
Then putting a hand across my shoulders, Saul led me to one of the doors lining the walls. It opened up to a long, dank passage. The end was doused in darkness and not visible.
I looked into it warily, taking a deep breath.
"We would come with you but I'm afraid we cannot," Saul said, looking a little apologetic. "You'll be fine," he said.
I believe him. After all, he was I.
"I won't – die, right?" I finally asked the first question that had popped into my mind.
Saul just smiled making it unclear whether he meant yes or no. He pushed me inside, gently.
"See you," Azalea cried as the door shut behind me.
I blanched. It was true then, I was going to die. What else could 'see you' mean?
I took an uncertain step forwards. I could not return now and I knew it. Taking a deep breath, I started to take longer steps up to the darkness where I expected another door to lay.
I took a gas lamp hanging on the side and stepped into the darkness.
I was right as the long passage ended at a walnut wood door. It had griffin knocker on it. After placing the gas lamp in a hook on the wall, I knocked at the door.
It opened with a flurry, revealing a dark man behind it. His pasty face, covered with worry lines, was lined by long greasy hair. His coal-black eyes seemed to see right through me. I shrunk into myself, though I did not understand why.
Without a word, he turned at his heel to face the handsome room. The walls were covered with portraits. There were cupboards of all shapes and sizes and interesting instruments all around the room. A handsome set of table and three chairs took up the centre of the room.
"Headmaster, is this absolutely necessary?" The dark man was asking one of the portraits.
I raised my eyebrow but almost threw up when the portrait answered back.
"Severus, please don't address me as 'Headmaster'," The old man with half-moon spectacles and a long white beard answered. "And yes, it is."
Severus grunted and settled in his chair, with his back to the portrait.
"Saul," the portrait said, startling me. "Welcome, boy. Oh, how I wish you were part of this wonderful community."
I realized I was staring with my mouth open.
"Uh… Uh, good – good to see you – uh- sir," I said, lamely.
Dumbledore smiled, gently.
"Severus," he said, turning his eyes to the black greasy head.
"I'm going, I'm going," Severus said, getting up and leaving.
"Remember, Severus," Dumbledore said, stopping Severus in the motion of closing the door behind him. "You know nothing."
Giving a curt nod, Severus left without a backwards glance.
"Sit, Saul," Dumbledore said, gesturing towards a chair in front of the table.
I sat down, staring at my feet. Anything would be better to look at than Dumbledore's knowing blue eyes. They were scarier than Moody's eyes because, first, they were two and, second, I saw the reflection of my past in them, my mistakes.
We sat in silence for what seemed like ages. My thoughts were morphing into questions that I knew could be answered by this wise old man.
"Sir," I said, thoughtfully, without looking up. "Why was I chosen?"
"Isn't that what we ask ourselves every day," he replied, vaguely.
I looked up, my gaze questioning.
"Saul, it's time," he said.
I knew he wouldn't answer. He was the kind of person who would want me to find out on my own.
I sighed and got up.
"Thank you," I murmured, before closing the door behind me.
I heard a little screeching sound from my pocket. I warily placed my hand into my pocket and pulled out my pager. It was short circuited and still sparking at the sides, curiously missing my fingers still clutching it. I placed it back in my pocket.
I took out the map and searched it. I saw my name staring up at me from the second floor. Following the map to the kitchen, I ended up in front of a portrait of a basket of fruits. Was this some joke? I looked at the map again. It said that I should tickle the pear.
I shrugged and tickled the pear in front of me. The portrait swung open with a giggle to reveal a hole. Inside I saw four long tables with little green creatures with pointy ears working furiously.
"Sir," a voice called from around my knees.
I looked down at one of the elves with huge eyes.
"I, I'm looking for Kreacher," I told him.
All the elves stopped working to stare the new apparition, as I entered.
"Kreacher," I called, lamely.
One of the elves cocked his head and made his way to me. A huge golden pendant shone around his neck.
"Kreacher at your service, sir," he said, bowing slightly.
"Kreacher, the Battle has begun and your master, he needs you to help the good side for him. Your master believes in you and wants you to make him proud," I told him, trying to make my speech as nostalgic as possible.
It worked. Kreacher stared back, teary-eyed.
"House elves of Hogwarts, it's time for us to help-," I heard Kreacher say, as turned on my heel and made my way out.
The portrait swung shut behind me.
I ran to the dungeons with the map in front of me. I stopped in front of the door labeled 'Potion Store'.
I entered and, taking a basket lying on the side, I started to pile potions into it. I picked up everything that looked even remotely evil.
I stared at the almost empty shelves. Backing out of the room, I ran up to the Great Hall. I had memorized the few lower floors' map by now. It was bustling with students. Hiding behind the suits of armors, I conspicuously managed to place the heavy basket outside the room.
I took shelter inside a room off the corridor, as there were still a lot of people around. I took the time to memorize the rest of the map. I waited until the sounds died down and until the great screeching sound that meant the doors of the Great Hall had been shut.
Seeing the empty corridor, I ran to the stairs, which would lead me up to the North Tower.
Huffing and puffing, I reached up there and looking at the latch, I pulled it down. A ladder slid down. Climbing it hastily, I reached in a large round room with the windows draped over with thick blankets. There was an assortment of chairs, hassocks, beanbags and stools placed about round tables. A single table with a comfortable-looking chair sat facing the rest. It looked like a classroom.
I looked around for a door. There was one at the far end of the room. I made my way through it, as fast as was possible without tripping over the furniture.
Knocking the brass knocker, I entered without waiting for a reply.
A woman, draped in a similar way as the room sat behind a large desk. The desk was overflowing with everything that looked even remotely related to Divination.
She looked up at me through her glasses that made her eyes look bigger than they were. The necklaces hanging around her neck jingled as she made this move.
"Yes?" She drawled.
"Uh, Professor Trelawney?" I asked.
"Yes… And you?" she asked, slowly.
"That doesn't concern the matter I'm here to discuss. The war is starting. The wizarding world needs your help too," I said, quickly, as if trying to cover up for the time she was losing in speaking slowly.
"What war?" she asked, her eyebrows knit in confusion.
I put my palm on my forehead. Vague, I remembered. I had to be vague!
"The war, uh, the war that has been brewing since a long, long time," I said, dramatically.
I remembered the numerous times in class that I had moved my hands, dramatically, while explaining, to wake the students up from their slumber.
"Your crystal balls will finally be used for something useful. Something your students will respect you for. Remember this!" I ended, dramatically backing out.
My work here was done. I exited the room in a flurry. On reaching out onto the landing, I looked out the window. A glassy lake stared up but there was something being reflected in it. I frowned and looked closely. It was a smoky mark, in the sky. I could not see the sign clearly. It seemed sinister.
I breathed and started to walk away. I needed to get away as quickly as possible. I could not stay back for the war. I did not know magic and any input, except my mission, would be clearly futile.