A bit of a long one, but I got into it. I see that I'm getting readers, but I would really like to get some reviews, too! I need to know what you think of the story and how I can make it better!
Disclaimer: I do not own HP or any of the characters associated with it. All I own is my original writing and the characters that I created for this story that are not related to the JKR Harry Potter series.
Chapter Four
The class droned on and it was all Albus could do not to yawn too obviously. Glancing around his fellow prisoners of The History of Magic class, he noticed that they were no better off than he.
Charms yesterday morning had gone smoothly, but Astronomy at midnight? And then they were expected to be awake in History as the old skeleton of a man spoke in a monotone? Not happening. He remembered his father telling him about this ancient professor who didn't seem to realize that he had died centuries before, and from what he could see, the wizard was still as oblivious despite his sunken eyes, thousands of wrinkles, and tiny form that was swallowed by his black robes.
Unable to resist anymore, he yawned broadly and rested his head on his arm, barely registering the words on the parchment in front of him with his exhausted eyes.
"Dragonstar!"
Jerked awake by the unexpected bark from the back of the room, the entire class turned in their seats to find the Headmistress standing in the doorway, a strict look on her face. Gulping, Sal packed his bag quickly and followed her out into the hallway, paling with every step.
"What'd he do now?" whispered Ivy to him, but he shook his head, just as mystified as she. A few minutes later, the students were asleep in their seats once more, a vacant glaze over their eyes.
"Sal!" he called across the room in the Great Hall at lunch that day, spotting his friend walking slowly to their table. "Where were you? What happened?"
"Hmm?" The boy blinked as though resurfacing from a dream and stared at him blankly for a couple seconds before realizing what he was looking at.
"Oh, nothing, don't worry about it," he said quickly, forcing a weak smile that eventually convinced his eyes to gleam. "What's for lunch?"
Still unconvinced by the sudden transformation, Albus followed him back to their table, wondering what Sal was hiding. And he had to be hiding something; why else would he close up at the strangest subjects or change subjects so swiftly? Determined to discover the mystery, he piled his plate high, the lunch quiet save for a few Fantasy Flame Fireworks bathing the Great Hall in all the colors of the rainbow.
The fire subsided to no more than a flicker at nine that evening as Sal sat on the couch in front of it, deep in thought about the past few days. The flames danced in a hypnotizing way and he found himself looking for shapes and faces in them as the other students filed away into their rooms.
Absolute silence filled the Gryffindor common room when he was the only one remaining, broken only by the crackling logs. Darkness set in, casting everything in shadow save for what the firelight reached. All of a sudden, the fire spat and a sheen of green overtook the orange. Panicking, Sal leaped to his feet and looked around uncertainly as a plume of blue-green sparks shot from the hearth and materialized into a human form with billowing robes directly in front of him.
"You…" he whispered, recognizing the wizard who had appeared during his detention the other day.
One black eyebrow arched. "That all you can say, Dragonstar? What a shame, I thought you might have something more in you to speak of, considering what a speech Minerva gave you this morning…yes, I know about that. Did you really think I wouldn't? I see everything in this castle, just as I have for the past twenty years. The only difference is that now, so can you. Come," he concluded briskly and stalked over to the door…and right through it with a swish of his cloak.
Looking around one more time, Sal sighed and followed the phantom, wizard, spark-man, apparition, whatever he was, down the winding staircase and out the portrait that hid the entrance.
The semi-transparent figure floated down the steps quickly and Sal had to run to keep up, praying that no one would see him. His hopes were dashed when he heard footsteps echoing down the corridor.
"I can't go on!" he hissed to the ghost-like form, and to his surprise, the man stopped and snapped his fingers. Immediately, an odd feeling rose through him, almost as though his very particles were clenching to his core and then flying apart at the speed of light, leaving him gasping for breath.
"First time's usually difficult," the man said quietly in that drawl of his, but despite his words Sal felt a twinge of guilt, as if he had disappointed the wizard. "But you're doing rather well. Don't lag. No one can see you anyway."
Why not? he wanted to ask, but intuition told him that it was better to stay silent until they were in a safer place. Well, at least a place he was supposed to be in.
The prefect walked by them as though they didn't even exist, whistling softly as he strolled down the stone hallways, his red-and-gold scarf fluttering around his neck. I'm invisible! Sal thought with a grin, and to his surprise, the ghost glanced back at him over his shoulder with a smirk on his translucent face.
"Of course you are. Now, hurry up. One of your roommates is getting curious as to your whereabouts," he said, continuing along the corridor to the stairs. Left with no alternative, the boy followed.
The stairs were in disarray, refusing to let them pass even when Sal murmured the pass-codes to straighten them, but the wizard held out his hand.
"Take it." Hesitating, Sal reached out his shaking hand and a heartbeat later it was clasped in the man's. He gasped at how cold that large hand was, but then again, what had he expected from a ghost? For he surely was a ghost, right?
Suddenly, he realized that his feet were no longer bearing his weight. Glancing down, he stifled a squeak when he saw the stone floor several feet beneath him. Eyes wider than ever, he gripped the hand tightly in fear that if he slipped, he would plummet to the rapidly-disappearing floor.
But as he kept going up, he began to feel more comfortable and at home, as though he had been born to fly. Lifting his head, he looked around curiously at the floors as they rose past them to the very top. If he was right, this was the seventh floor and which had nothing more than a blank wall and a few rooms.
"Why are we here?" he asked quietly as they descended lightly onto the cold stone.
"Because there is something here that you need to find," explained the man mysteriously. Releasing the white-knuckled hand, he walked towards the wall and scrunched up his eyebrows as he thought of something. He paced a few times in front of it and then came to stand where he had begun, looking up at the ceiling.
"Come here and shut your eyes, then open them again," said the wizard. Sal obeyed, his curiosity peaking, and his jaw dropped when he opened his eyes to see that the smooth wall before him now held an enormous wooden door.
"After you," drawled the man.
"Wait," Sal said hastily. "What's your name?"
The man stiffened and watched him intently for such a long time that Sal didn't think he would ever answer. At last, however, one word escaped the reluctant lips: "Snape."
The name tickled the back of his subconscious, but he couldn't exactly place where he had heard it before. Somewhere in his past, in class, in—
"Step to it, Dragonstar," Snape snapped. "Time isn't standing still for you."
Swallowing, Sal opened the door and stepped through it, amazed by the sight that met his eyes.
The entire room, the corners of which he could not see, was filled with odds and ends of various objects, trinkets, furniture, treasures, thousands of books, jewels, rugs, chairs, broken things, and who knew what else. Quite a few objects were either on the verge of collapse or already cascading down into piles. Most of the towers were charred and blackened as if from a fire, but it seemed as though the room was recovering in its own way, the black disappearing to make way for the pervious condition of the items despite the stench of smoke that still clung to the room. Everything, however, was absolutely free of dust. A small bird fluttered over and sat on a shattered chair, eyeing them closely, and then flew over to sit on his shoulder, singing cheerfully into his ear.
"What is this?" he asked softly, barely daring to breathe lest something be dislodged and toppled onto him.
"The Room of Requirement," Snape said gruffly. He made his way over to a dark part of the room, hidden behind an enormous cabinet draped with a dark blue cloth. Following, Sal stepped over an aged bloody axe, a box of bottles whose contents glowed eerily in the dim light, clothes rotten and moth-eaten with age, and rusted swords and helmets, some with what looked like Druid etchings encircling them. Behind all of that, stuffed figure of a troll hid a passageway, and it was through this that the wizard led Sal, onwards to a dark walkway that opened into a more-or-less vacant spot. However, his hopes of getting some clean air were dashed when Snape pointed him at a small cabinet up against the wall.
It seemed like any other broken piece of furniture in the world of leftovers, what with its ragged surface pock-marked by a strong acid of some sort and with a chipped bust of a wizard in a filthy hair wig and tarnished tiara on top, but in his chest Sal felt a strange constriction. Something told him that this was a source of evil, something Dark…
"Open the cabinet," Snape drawled in his ear, his icy breath sending shivers down the boy's spine. Moving through air as thick and sluggish as molasses, he pried open the creaking door and peered inside.
The next instant, he jumped back with a yelp. The skeleton of a creature with five legs glared back at him from the insides of a rusty cage, the razor-sharp teeth bared in a final, desperate attempt at a hopeless escape. In spite of the frightening scene, Sal noticed something placed behind the wire cages, something that looked like a book or a journal.
"Take it out," hissed Snape. "What, do I need to tell you what to do step by step? And just as I was beginning to think your wizard side was more prominent than your Muggle blood…"
"Leave my bloodline alone!" growled Sal with an uncharacteristic display of fury. Surprising even himself, he tried not to reveal the shock on his face but must have failed as the man smiled coldly, the yellow teeth just appearing behind the pale, thin lips.
"Do as I say and I just might."
"Why should I take it out? What is it? Why am I here?" Sal countered, his blood boiling.
"Because if you want to be prepared, you'll need it," Snape snarled, meeting the steady, blazing look he received with one of ominously chilling calm.
"Prepared for what?"
The wizard snorted in exasperation. "Do all Muggles ask so many worthless questions?"
"Worthless? I find them rather pertinent," echoed a familiar voice from the shadows. Glancing over his shoulder, Sal felt his eyebrows shoot into his hairline at their own accord.
