A Time to Love
Tap tap, pause, tap tap tap. It was our signal. The signal we have been using the seven years we have been at Hogwarts. I have heard that combination on the door to my dormitory many thousands of times. I rolled out of my bed, brushing aside the heavy purple draperies, and felt for my cloak. As I connected the smooth silver fastenings, I pondered what this late-night summoning was about, and I wondered how many more midnight escapades this castle held for me. It was March of my seventh year, and already I was sentimental. I finally succeeded in hooking my cloak and silently crept into the black stillness of the night. I meandered down the polished steps, trailing my fingers along the walls, fixing every nook and cranny into my memory. I studied the paintings on the walls, noting how the moonlight reflected off their peaceful, sleeping faces. I agily hopped over the missing stair and the one that wailed like a banshee after eleven pm. The dying embers of the fire shed enough light on the common to be able to tell that it was empty. So I passed on, sighing wistfully because in a few months this place would be a memory, faded and cherished.
I pushed open the portrait hole and
was met by a mop of messy black hair. "Hello," I asked, "where's Ron?"
"Ron? He's not coming," whispered
Harry nervously, "It's just you and me."
"Oh, where are we going, then?" I
asked, still puzzled about Ron's absence.
"You'll see," he muttered
enigmatically.
I pushed and prodded Harry to tell me
where we were going, but a smile would just tickle the corners of his mouth
while it remained firmly closed. I finally just gave up. I gazed into the lush
velvet sky, marred with tiny pinpricks of silver that were the stars. Harry led
me beneath the weeping willows that edged the lake. Muggle weeping willows are
quite different that weeping willows in the magical world. Magical weeping
willows are planted in memoriam to the dead, and they are watered by the tears
of those who had loved them. This group of trees was planted to remember
students who died fighting Voldemort. I had never liked the willows. I always
saw them as the faces of the dead, angry at the fact that their lives were cut
short. But tonight, in the moonlight of the nearly spring night, the faces were
merely peaceful and sad, these protectors of Hogwarts. Harry paused by the
youngest two trees. There were small, but their branches were intertwined like
the hands of lovers. I read the small plaque: Lily and James Potter, we are
ever grateful for your sacrifice. I looked up, my eyes full of tears and saw
that Harry was brushing aside the will branches and gesturing toward a boat
frozen in the icy lake. "Um, Harry? How are we supposed to get anywhere in that
boat? It's frozen in six inches."
"You'll see," he said with that
infuriatingly mysterious smile. "Climb in."
I climbed in the small boat, almost
losing my balance. Harry handed me a blanket and checked his watch, "May I ask
what we are doing?"
"Well," said Harry, " every year on
the first day of spring, the water nymphs are awakened. They arise from their
slumber and thaw the lake, beginning the rest of spring.
"Harry," I asked, "how come I've never
heard of these nymphs?"
"They are unique to this lake. That
was one of the reasons the original founders picked this spot. It's been kept a
secret for thousands of years."
"How did you find out?"
"Professor Dumbledore showed me last
year. He brought me to my parents' trees, and he showed me this. Look, over
there, you can see one!"
I snuggled against Harry to help shut
out the bone chilling wind, and I looked where he was pointing. A faint glimmer
of blue-green light shimmered just under the surface. Right above it, a crack
formed. I saw the next light, pale purple, and pointed it out to Harry. One by
one more lights flickered into existence and more cracks formed. Red, orange, green,
yellow, blue, violet, white, silver; faster and faster the lights appeared and the
smooth surface of the lake began to look like a mirror someone had dropped.
Finally, when the lights were innumerable,
Harry began rowing to the center of the lake. "Harry…" I began, but I was cut off
by his soft, "Shh." The specks of light began to rise out of the water into the
chill of the night. The heavens became full of a melody to beautiful to describe.
As the nymphs sang, the bitter bite of the wind changed into a gentle zephyr. I
felt so invigorated. To dance, to sing, that is what I felt called to do. The
nymphs slowly effervesced out over the grounds to share the message of spring
with the rest of the world.
Harry silently rowed the boat back to
shore as I beamed in my newfound understanding of the world. Harry helped mw
out of the boat, but I kept my hand tucked in his as we walked to the castle,
skirting the few snowdrifts left after the nymphs warming presence. Harry let
go of my hand at the foot of the mahogany stairs. I ascended them as regally as
a princess, my head full with facts and sights few others knew, and my heart
full with the knowledge that no matter how far I got from this castle or even
Harry, my heart would never be empty of them.