The Lady of the Castle

The wizard's eyes opened ever so slowly, but the darkness that met him was no different from that which met him when his eyes were closed. Out of a mind, which had rested longer than most other brains might exist, he endeavoured to draw out the one spell he needed before all others. Slowly, his mind took up the work it had laid down many a year ago, till it finally produced the words the old wizard needed.

The eyelids dropped shut, so as to shield the pupils behind them from the first onslaught of the magical light that would soon be summoned, and the lips opened slightly, the parched tongue was drawn swiftly over them, as a preparation for the words that would follow soon after, and with a voice that was hoarse and rough after having slept so long, Gandalf said the words he needed to say.

'Naur an edraith ammen!'

At once, gleaming white light sprang forth from his staff and shone strong and pure in the heavy dark. It pierced through Gandalf's thin eyelids and urged his pupils to contract, yet when the wizard opened his eyes fully, they still could hardly bear the blinding light. He did not let that faze him, however, but with a wave of his staff he woke the power within him and renewed his robes and cloak. Another wave, and his appearance was no longer that of long nails and hair, but of trimmed nails and a beard and hair that reached only to his middle.

During his wait, his strength had not grown dimmer, but had increased and intensified, giving him a power, he had never, to this moment, ever felt before. He closed his eyes and felt with his magic to find out where he was. Deep bellow him; he could feel the hot core of the earth, scalding bubbles of gas rising upwards from it, floating through a seething mass of melted stone. Far above him, there was magic, magic in its rawest form and magic so changed and converted, it must have been transformed by an artist.

He felt the people, all of them with magic powers, big or small and many other magical creatures he could not wait to get to know. It was time to join the living again, and suddenly the joy of the moment broke forth in his heart and he chuckled wholeheartedly. He had missed company.

His journey was a swift one. With his magical senses spreading out around him, he found a way amongst and along the cracks and tunnels of the earth and if necessary, he could also blast himself a passage through solid rock. He did the latter sparingly, however, so as not to disturb the balance of forces reigning underground.

Finally, he arrived through a crack in the rock in a cave which was partly under water. To his left, a tunnel led outside, ivy hung over the opening. To his right, he could see a little harbour with rowing boats without oars and opposite the water was a great wooden door. It was not in Gandalf's nature to hesitate. With quick steps, that thoroughly belied his age, he walked briskly up to the door and opened it with a spell.

No sooner had he done so, when he felt many presences quickly approaching his location. The first to appear was a ghost of a plump man in a robe tied together around his waist with a rope and a circle of hair round his head. With an upraised hand holding a small stick, it hovered before him menacingly.

'Stay where you are, intruder!' It bellowed with a fierce face.

It was joined by two other ghosts now, then a fourth, all of them raising a hand in the air which bore a stick. Mithrandir did not doubt that these sticks fulfilled the function his staff did for him, and he did not choose to ignore their danger. Furthermore, he knew that he might win a battle against the ghosts, but he could not know if he would be able to win a battle against all occupants of this place, nor did he wish to fight against them. After all, he had not waited so long for a community of wizards to form to then antagonise them!

So he nodded gravely and stood still, leaning comfortably on his staff. A very tiny man entered, and Gandalf fought a smile, for he was reminded of the hobbits. The small man brandished a stick, too, and in a high and breathless voice he cried:

'Do not move or I will have to stupefy you!'

Again Gandalf nodded. He did not exactly know what to stupefy was, but he guessed it must be some charm which was aimed to make a person unable to fight. Next, a tall, beak nosed man with sallow skin and shoulder length hair entered. All on him except his pallid skin was black, and his frown was even blacker. Gandalf felt at once that this man was well acquainted with the dark side of magic. On his heels followed a squat woman with a pink bow in her thin hair, bulging eyes and an air of self-importance about her. Her stubby fingers shook, while she held her focussing stick in front of her.

A second later, a tall woman in green robes entered, too. Her hair was drawn back in a tight bun and her face wore a stern expression. Her mouth was a line of grim determination and her eyes glittered like chips of black ice, as she briskly stepped into the middle of the room to face him. It was her, for whom he had waited. His magical senses had long since told him who of those approaching him was the most powerful, and it was her. He surmised that she must be their leader, for it had been that way in his time, and the thought that it might be different in this time did not cross his mind. He bowed his head before the straight backed witch.

'Greetings to you, Lady of this castle', he said, causing a murmur to arise and a raised eyebrow from the witch he was addressing, 'Please excuse my sudden entry, which I see has caused great alarm, and let me introduce myself. I am Gandalf the White, servant of the Secret Fire and wielder of the flame of Anor...'

He was interrupted by a surreptious little cough of the ugly woman with the pink bow. 'Hem, hem', she coughed, and Gandalf looked up, to see the black wizard sneering wickedly and the tiny one struggling to keep the glee out of his mien, while the witch he had been addressing turned to the smaller woman reluctantly. The latter spoke now with a high, breathy voice.

'Professor McGonagall is not the Lady of this castle, Mr. Gandalf; she is deputy headmistress of Hogwarts. I am its headmistress and as such it is my business to deal with you.' She said, with a special emphasis on the word 'my'.

At this, Professor McGonagall spoke for the first time. Her voice was clear and just as stern as her bearing. It had a lilt to it that was similar to that of the hobbits living in Brandy Hall. 'In that case, Dolores, we will no longer disturb you and let you handle your business.' With that, she swept off, not even bothering to guard her back from Gandalf. He soon knew why, however: The wizards and the ghosts watched her back for her.

The lips of the witch called Dolores quivered, but she did not say a word of protest, as the rest of the party disappeared through the doors leading further into the castle. At first, Gandalf wondered why he, whom they had regarded as a great threat, was now left alone with this weak witch, but he noticed soon afterwards, that the others hadn't really left, but were in a near room, ready to stop his advance if needed.

What was their plan? Did the witch before him know the others were still about? He thought she didn't. Her nervousness was palpable and he had felt only disgust or evil glee towards her from her companions. Again she coughed.

'Hem, hem, Mr.Gandalf, you have broken through the wards surrounding Hogwarts, which is a major offence, if I may say so, and I will of course notify the Ministry of Magic as soon as possible. It is clear that you must have used dark magic to break into Hogwarts and for that, too, you will be punished.' The thought seemed to please her immensely, and her voice grew even breathier as she continued. 'As for the cheek of taking on false and pretentious titles, that will cost you even more.'

She raised her stick and waved it at him, crying 'petrificus totalus!' Gandalf had anticipated the attack and summoned the power of the Secret Fire to shield him from her attack, and her spell, which had sprung from her the tip of the stick she held, bounced off the shield and diagonally up to the ceiling. Frightened, the squat woman stared at him with eyes that reminded him more and more of Sméagol, then she raised her arm again and sent the same spell at him again and again.

'Petrificus totalus! Petrificus totalus! Petrificus totalus! Petrificus totalus! Petrificus totalus! Petri...'

Gandalf smiled at her benignly. He was now sure that she was no danger to him, but he wondered about the others. Still, they did not interfere, but hovered in the background, obviously making sure that he did not just overrun the witch opposite him and go further into the castle. He had to admit the situation humoured him. If there was one thing that was sure, then it was that the people in this castle were an interesting lot. Time to get to know them all.

Calmly, he cut through the flow of 'Petrificus totalus' that streamed from the witch's mouth. 'Madam, this will lead us nowhere. My shield is too powerful for your spells. Could we not discuss the situation, instead? No doubt you can explain to me what exactly the offence is that I seem to have committed, for I myself do not know at all.'

The witch refused to listen, but at least she stopped casting her weak spells. Instead, she aimed the stick towards her throat and muttered 'sonorus'. A moment later, her voice bellowed loudly through the rooms of the castle.

'MINERVA, SEVERUS, FILIUS, I REQUEST YOU BE AT THE CAVE HARBOUR AT ONCE!'

The way those summoned interpreted the words 'at once' was very interesting. The witch might just as well have said 'take your time'. They appeared at the door together, all of them straight faced, though the small wizard obviously fought for his composure. Professor McGonagall's lips were pressed together in a very thin line, and that of the black wizard held the hint of a sneer.

'What is it, Dolores?' Asked Professor McGonagall, her tone just barely civil.

'He -he is a freak! My petrifying spell has no effect on him!' The goggle- eyed witch wailed.

'That his shield is stronger than your spells seems to me no proof that he is a -freak.' Professor McGonagall said coolly. 'It merely proves that Mr.Gandalf IS a very powerful wizard and shows that it is possible that he may actually have gotten through the wards of Hogwarts all on his own. And if that is the case, I don't see how we could hinder him from doing it again, or breaking out of a Ministry Prison, for that matter.' She turned to Gandalf now and addressed him. 'Mr.Gandalf, are you aware of the fact that this castle is the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?'

'I was not aware of the fact.' Gandalf answered. 'I was without contact to the world for a long, long time and I cannot remember having heard the name of Hogwarts before today.'

'Of course', the witch answered, but Gandalf was not sure if she really believed him. Instead of inquiring further, she introduced him to everyone present, including the ghosts. 'This is Professor Dolores Umbridge, Headmistress of Hogwarts and Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Filius Flitwick, Charms Professor and Head of Ravenclaw, Severus Snape, Potions Master and Head of Slytherin, the Bloody Baron, Houseghost of Slytherin, Sir Nicholas the Mimsy-Porpington, Houseghost of Gryffindor, Friar Fredericus, Houseghost of Hufflepuff, and Sir Archibald Erkledown, Houseghost of Ravenclaw. I am Minerva McGonagall, Transfigurations teacher and Head of Gryffindor.'

Gandalf bowed his head in greeting to every one of the people and ghosts. Umbridge eyed him suspiciously, Flitwick nodded back cheerfully, Snape sneered, the Bloody Baron did not react, Sir Nicholas nodded nervously, the Friar gave him a friendly wave, Sir Archibald nodded coolly, and McGonagall gave him a crisp smile and a brisk nod. She seemed very much in charge and Gandalf wondered why Dolores Umbridge was considered her superior.

'Hem, hem.' Umbridge coughed. McGonagall ignored her.

'How long have you been out of things?' She asked Gandalf.

'Since the end of the Third Age of Middle Earth.' He answered truthfully. Her eyebrows twitched upwards.

Another 'hem, hem' was ignored.

'Neither 'Third Age' nor 'Middle Earth' have ever existed to my knowledge.' She admitted. 'Currently, you are in Great Britain.'

'Do you not call your world Middle Earth?'

As those before, the next 'hem, hem' was ignored. 'We choose to call our world the Earth, Mr.Gandalf, but surely, you must have been aware of that. Why are you here?'

'Hem, HEM!'

McGonagall turned to Snape. 'Severus, Dolores seems to have caught an unpleasant cold. I hope you have some more of your Pepper-up potion, I'm sure it would do her cold a lot of good.'

But Umbridge was not to be turned down so easily. Pointedly ignoring that Gandalf had talked to them like any person, she said: 'Minerva, surely this is inappropriate. The creature must be put somewhere where it can do no harm to the students at once. There is no time for idle dilly-dallying.'

'I quite see why you think so, Dolores. Where do you propose we put Mr.Gandalf and how do you think we could get him there?' McGonagall asked sweetly.

This silenced Umbridge effectively for another minute, in which McGonagall asked about the Secret Fire and the flame of Anor. Gandalf had just enough time to tell her one or two basics, before Umbridge interrupted again.

'Hem, hem. I have an even better plan, my dear colleague! Stay here and talk to it, while I summon a Dementor to us. It will take care of it.'

In the other witch's eyes there now appeared an expression so horrified, that Gandalf was reminded of the terror-stricken stares the Ringwraiths had caused in Middle Earth. The temperature of the cave had sunken at the mere mentioning of the word 'Dementor' and everyone but Umbridge seemed uncomfortable, though not actually afraid. Was there a way you could chase away Dementors?

'What are Dementors?' He asked, wanting to know what lot awaited him.

'Soulless creatures that drain away all thoughts and feelings of happiness and warmth and feed on the misery and terror of the drained people. And if you are administered the Dementor's Kiss, your soul is taken from you for ever, and all that is left behind is its shell, the body, unfeeling and empty.' Flitwick answered, looking troubled.

'The remedy to the bad feeling caused by a Dementor's presence is chocolate and the creatures can be chased away by a 'Patronus' charm.' McGonagall added.

The Dementors sounded a lot like the Ringwraiths, Gandalf thought. The flame of Anor had stood him in good steed against the Witch-kings; he expected that it would also fend off the Dementors.