Chapter 19: The Old Man

Harry stood for a moment, wondering what to do. He decided to go down the trapdoor. It was probably just a cellar for straw or something. No one would mind. He checked to see if anyone was watching. Apart form Pinpin, no. He knelt down by the trapdoor and cleared away the straw that lay on top of it. The winged horse looked at him curiously. "It's OK," Harry whispered.

He tried the handle on top of the door. It wouldn't budge. He took out his wand. "Alohomora," he muttered. The door swung open, creaking horribly. Harry froze, but nothing happened. He climbed slowly into the hole in the floor. The pony looked down at him. "You stay there," he whispered. "I'll be back soon." She turned away, and Harry shut the door behind him.

It was total darkness. There wasn't even light coming through the gaps at the side of the trapdoor. "Lumos," Harry said. His wand tip flared, sending out a narrow beam of light. Harry swung it around. He was in a narrow stone tunnel, which led off it the direction of the school.

Harry walked on, bending to avoid the low roof and using his wand to search around. He wished he could see more that the small area the wand illuminated, them he remembered something he'd learned in Professor Gabriel's last Transfiguration lesson. You could change how objects reacted to light. If he could make the stone walls reflect …

It happened without him even trying. The beam of light sprung off the roof of the tunnel back to the floor, where it bounced again, until a series of criss-crossing lines of light appeared to be filling the tunnel. Harry touched the walls. They were no different. But they obviously were different. He had done a Transfiguration that was not directly obvious.

Harry continued along the tunnel. It was much easier now that he could see where he was going. He carried on walking for about ten minutes, past stalactites and stalagmites and colonies of tiny bats hanging from the ceiling. He wondered what they ate. In time the tunnel seemed to become narrower and lower, until Harry came to a tiny wooden door, no more than three feet high. The light extinguished. "Come in, Mr. Potter," said a tired, old voice.

Harry pushed open the door and crawled inside. He couldn't see anything. He wondered if he had been imagining things, or if he'd gone the wrong way when …

A dim light appeared in the centre of the tunnel, which had widened out into a small stone room. A man was sitting at a low wooden table with a loaf of bread, a lighted candle and a cup of ale. "Do sit down," he said.

Harry sat down on the floor opposite the man and surveyed him. He was small, no more than five feet high, and was wearing ragged grey robes. He had a long, matted grey beard and hair, and was holding a small stick, which could have been a homemade wand. "Who are you?" asked Harry.

"My name has been lost," croaked the man. "No-one has used it for a very long time. No-one has ever been to see me before now."

"How do you get –" Harry motioned at the bread and ale.

"I steal it," croaked the old man. His voice sounded nervous and upset. "I take it from the college. They do not know. You won't tell, will you, will you?"

"No," said Harry. "Why should I?"

"Promise? Promise?" asked the wizard, and Harry nodded. His face broke into a smile. "Thankyou, thankyou, Harry Potter."

"How do you know my name?"

"Magic," replied the wizard. "It is that simple. I have nothing more to do, so I practise my magic. I see what the bats are doing. I give them food, you know. Would you like some?"

"Yes, please," said Harry. The Withersball game had expelled his hunger, but now it had returned. The wizard passed over a piece of bread. "Why are you down here?" asked Harry.

"The world will not take me," answered the wizard. "The world does not suit my needs. Imagine being alone in a foreign country. That is what it is like for me."

"Are you foreign?" asked Harry.

"What?" returned the wizard, surprised. "Oh, no, no. I'm not foreign."

"So you live here all the time?" inquired Harry.   

"No, no," said the old wizard. "I go out at night. I can cope then, you see. There is no one to disturb me. I tend your horses. The one who is meant to care for them – she frightens them." He stopped, and began to gaze into space. Harry finished his bread in silence, and walked towards the door. "I'll go now, then," he said.

"No," said the wizard. His voice had become deep and strong, he was standing up and he appeared to be sending out a light from his very body. His beard and robes seemed white, his eyes and voice were like thunder and lightning. Harry froze. "No," continued the wizard. "Don't go yet! I must warn you of something first! There is a man who wants to kill you. He has sent his servant, Millstew, to find you. This man's name is Lord Amarenox. You must keep away from him. You must keep away from him. You must …"

Harry drew out his wand, ready to strike if the wizard attacked him, but nothing happened. The wizard sank back onto the floor. He voice became uneasy again. "Do not listen to me!" he said. "I am not in my right mind. I am a mad old man! Go now! Do not return! It is for your own safety!"

Harry pushed open the door and crawled back along the tunnel in the reflected wand-light.