ADDITIONAL NOTES what the hell, may as well include all famous Victoriana freakishness while I'm at it - this is now reminiscent of The Elephant Man, too, now that I think about.
Harry Potter and the Secret Cabinet, chapter 3
Harry heard the swish of the tent close behind him and felt goose-bumps pimple his neck. This place just felt... creepy.
'It smells like something died in here,' muttered Ron. Harry was inclined to agree.
'Come closer,' wheezed the voice. The sudden malodorous gust past Harry's nose seemed to indicate that the decomposing smell came from the breath of the mysterious voice. Harry's eyes watered. A quick glimpse at the others suggested they had the same problem.
There was a slight creaking and the flare of an oil lamp, a shadowy hunched figure became illuminated in the lamp's light. It was twisting the knob that controlled the wick. Another creak and the lamp flame grew taller and brighter. The mysterious figure began to resemble more a person and less a sack of forgotten potatoes.
'Welcome,' the person spoke, 'I am Doctor Pettigrew and in this cabinet,' here he gestured to a still dark corner of the tent, 'is my life's work.'
Slowly Harry's eyes were able to make out the features of the shadowy man - from his wild, frizzled grey hair, pointed nose and tiny eyes to his heavy, jowly cheeks. Ron would've said 'eugh', but Ron seemed incapable of speech. Maybe it was the smell. Harry got a noseful with every word.
No response from the nervous audience of four seemed necessary, the doctor was content to recite his showmanship spiel. Pettigrew took two steps backwards and grandly swept his arm, indicating his guests should sit on the low wooden bench.
'All my life I have been fascinated with freaks of nature and marvels of science. I dedicated my life to their study, searching for a way to understand and explain such misfits. The most amazing scientific wonder I came across in my studies and research was the famed perambulator et somnulator - to give it the proper scientific name. You may know of them in the common tongue as 'sleepwalkers'.
Pettigrew leant forward and spread his arms wide, causing his raggedy cape to swish impressively. 'Why, you may ask, why is something like a person who walks in his sleep such a scientific marvel? I see in your eyes you desire the answer to such a question, do you not, young gentlemen?' Pettigrew seemed to be looking directly at Ron. 'Very well,' the doctor began pacing in front of the bench, striding with his short legs, five paces, turn around, repeat.
'An ordinary man does more than require sleep - he desires it, much like an addiction to intoxicating liquors or opiates. Should you deny a man his addiction he will become irritable, irrational, prone to outbursts, his concentration will wander until he can concentrate on nothing but that which he desires! His physical control will degrade until his movements are but mere spasms. Thus, deny a man his addiction and he will descend into madness!'
The doctor stopped abruptly to glare at his audience.
'This,' he pointed accusingly at Hagrid, 'is what happens to man if you do not let him sleep.'
He resumed his pacing.
'When we want to break a man's addiction we in the medical and scientific worlds do not simply deny the man his addiction, oh no, we must break him of the habit - often providing a substitute for the addiction. But sleep has no substitute. All the scientific world knows about sleep is that man cannot live without it. There are no case studies or examples of people who have never slept to put such scientific questions to. But,' Pettigrew stopped in front of Harry and bowed his head down, 'there are, however rarely,' he paused again and his foul breath hit Harry head on, 'people who,' he leant a little bit closer, 'have never woken up at all...'
Harry froze. He couldn't breathe or even twitch with the doctor's gaze focused on him. But Pettigrew spun away in the interest of theatrical dramatics before Harry had even processed what the doctor had been talking about.
Pettigrew resumed his pacing once more, cape swishing from side-to-side.
'It was a stroke of the most fortuitous fortune that I happened to come across this specimen. If it was not for my hard work and continual study I would not have recognised him for what he was as nobody had recognised him previously. From time to time the scientific world stumbles across some poor unfortunate soul who has suffered an accident and appears to be asleep when really their brain has merely ceased to function. But that is not the case with my specimen. Similarly, there are some who are born with their brain not functioning and again this is not the case with my specimen.
'Gentlemen, what you will see today is truly the most bizarre freak of nature you will ever see in your lives. All I ask is for a small donation to fund my further research into such scientific wonders.'
Harry was shocked to see a tin appear, as if out of nowhere, in Dr Pettgrew's hand. One by one he rattled it underneath their noses until there was a clink of a satisfyingly heavy coin. For a moment Harry had forgotten that this was a sideshow, that it was a part of the long anticipated Fair. He'd even forgotten that there was a Fair. Ron and Neville seemed to be just as shaken as he was himself, but Hagrid had his head down, searching for coins in his purse, and Harry couldn't make out his expression. Harry didn't even know how much he'd put in the tin, but the doctor appeared satisfied.
'Thank you, gentlemen. In the face of such generosity I feel compelled to continue.'
The doctor moved towards the dark corner and lit another oil lamp and a tall, narrow, wooden cabinet was distinguishable in the flickering, yellow light.
'This is the sum of all my work and all my study!' he proclaimed with a flourish of one arm towards the cabinet.
'This is the most rare, the most sought scientific specimen!' Another flourish.
'This, gentlemen, is a living man. A man who breathes. A man who moves. A man who talks. A man who has never been awake in all his life!' A final flourish and then -
'I give you the somnambulist! I give you Sevá rè !' And Pettigrew flung open the doors of the cabinet amid gasps from Ron and Hagrid, a squeak from Neville and stunned silence from Harry.
After such hyperbole, Harry wasn't quite sure what he was expecting. A puppet? A man in make-up? An empty cabinet? But he wasn't expecting what he saw, which was a pale face that shone like a moon from between clouds.
It was disconcerting, such a pale face above a body cloaked in black fabric and framed by dark hair and marred by deep shadows around the eyes, cheeks and under the nose. Harry thought the face looked bloodless. Not bloodless as if all the blood had been drained away, but bloodless as if there had never been any blood there. Ever. It was such a startling paleness, even by lamplight.
The doctor was delighted by the reaction of the audience. He grinned with his crooked teeth and geared himself up for the second part of the act. He danced away from the open cabinet and turned to face the stunned eyes and open mouths of the little audience.
'I shall now demonstrate the marvel of the somnambulist! Come Sevárè', walk forward!'
And the sleeping man stepped slowly forward two paces. Pettigrew didn't even to turn around to check his charge. He could tell by the expression of the redhead in front of him that his act was obeying his command.
'Now, gentlemen! Ask of Sevárè anything that you will! You shall discover that the somnambulist's mind never having been troubled by conscious concerns is receptive to all the answers to all the questions in the cosmos! This is why he is such a rare specimen! This is why he presents such a fascinating conundrum to science. This man who has never been awake can answer any question!
'You sir!' Pettigrew pointed to Hagrid, 'What is your question for the somnambulist? What question in all the cosmos do you want answered?'
Hagrid appeared flustered at being singled out and 'hmmmed' and 'hwwwwed' before hesitantly rumbling forth with 'I 'ad always wondered... What do baby dragons eat? Once they've 'atched out of their eggs?' Three heads turned in unison to stare at Hagrid. Who blushed.
Ron, Neville and Harry were all well acquainted with their tall friend's interest in dragons, but they thought it a bizarre question, nevertheless. In a balletic movement, the three heads pivoted to stare at the pale face of the sleepwalker.
The somnambulist spoke.
'Newly hatched baby dragons eat other newly hatched baby dragons. And coal.'
The voice from the pale face was even, with a slight husk to it. The words had been clear, not mumbled in anyway, and the voice was compelling without being forceful or strident.
Harry had never heard a voice like it in his life. He'd felt the words flow over every single part of his spine. Bump by bump, then a slight swirl as they reached his lower back and stayed there.
Harry shivered.
Ron, however, had been scrutinising the pale face carefully. Determined to not be caught up in some charlatan's trick. But no other part of the man's face had moved other than the mouth. There hadn't even been the merest suggestion of a hint of a flicker of an eyelash. Ron wasn't sure if he should be disappointed or not.
The doctor, perhaps sensing the redhead's new ambivalence, picked him as the new target and pointed. 'You, sir! What is your question whose answer you so strongly desire that you are consumed by it in your every waking moment?'
Well, if you put it like that, thought Ron, there's only one thing that I 'strongly desire'. And so he blurted out 'Will I make it with the World's Most Beautiful Lady at this Fair?'
Harry could not believe his friend sometimes. At least he has the decency to blush, Harry thought, noting that Ron's cheeks had indeed pinkened. Probably because the doctor seemed fairly amused by such an adolescent question.
The somnambulist spoke again. He only said one word.
'Yes.'
It was impossible to tell who was the mos flabbergasted at the answer. Even Pettigrew looked surprised if the sharp glance he directed over his shoulder was any indication.
Ron looked like he was about to swallow his own tongue before choking out,' Wow... umm, yeah.' And then a big grin split his face and he turned to one side. 'Did you hear that, Harry? He said yes!'
Harry was amused to note that Ron's cheeks stayed pink. But before he could respond to his friend, it was Neville's turn, and the doctor was pointing his finger at the nervous boy.
'And you, young gentleman! What is your deep, dark, soul-searing question, hmmm? What do you desire to ask the somnambulist?'
Neville looked like he was going to wet himself.
'I, uh, I just wanted to know if, that is, if you could tell m-m-me, I mean, is it better to plant spring-box flowers this autumn or pink-petal climbers?'
Ron shook his head at Neville's question, whereas Hagrid seemed as interested in the answer as his cousin.
The somnambulist spoke once more.
'Pink-petal climbers.'
Neville seemed relieved.
Harry tensed.
Pettigrew turned. Arm outstretched and pointing.
'And you, last but not least. What question prowls through your mind, lurks in your thoughts, weighs heavy on your heart? What answer do you seek to relieve your spirit and allow you to rest easily at night? What question do you ask of Sevárè?'
Harry swallowed.
He opened his mouth. 'I -'
But before he could utter another sound the tent flap flew back spilling daylight into the flickering gloom and noise into the cloistered atmosphere.
Ron's mother peered intently into the darkness of the tent waiting for her eyes to adjust. But it wasn't her son she was searching for. Molly Weasley was first able to discern Hagrid, then Neville, then Ron, and finally -
'Harry! I'm so glad I found you! It's about you godfather.'
Harry stood up quickly and the world tilted to the left.
to be continued…
