The Light At The End Of The Tunnel
After what seemed like years, we reached the light.
"Devi, it's a window." Indeed it was. On a more detailed observation, it was a large, thick block of warped glass, firmly set into dark wood, mahogany, maybe. Wood that seemed thousands of years old, and must have been preserved by magic. I raised my wand to alleviate the shadows. The door was large and set into the roughly hewn stone. Just to my right was an iron handle, wrought in the shape of the Hogwarts crest. Below the handle was a bolt, thick and rusty with age. The handle bore no rust.
"There's only one thing to do." Devi interrupted my concentration.
"And what's that? Surely not barge in. Remember the last time you barged in though a door? Yesterday?" I asked, heavy sarcasm in my voice.
"That was a trap-door. And anyway, what else are we going to do? It's not as if we can just stay here. They don't know where we went. Maybe even Dumbledore doesn't know."
I hated going into potential danger, but it seemed the only possible way. "Fine. Just let me go in first this time. We can't have you break your other leg!"
With Devi's reluctant nod of consent, I took the rusty bolt in both hands and tugged it to one side. It did so with surprising ease for something of its age, which wasn't saying much. In fact, it was saying five minutes with both of us straining to move it. When it finally squealed into the unlocked position, I wiped my sweaty brow and commented, "That seriously needs some oil. And polishing."
I was rewarded with my friend's weak smile. Then I concentrated on the task at hand. Preparing myself for danger, I grasped the handle and pulled. This time there was no tugging. It seemed that the hinges were magicked not to rust as the handle was, and with no difficulty the door swung towards us.
I tip-toed into a dusty world, lit from an unidentifiable place. Judging from the shelves on the walls, filled with bulky rectangular objects, it was a library. I felt, rather than heard, Devi waltz in behind me, and then there was a violent sneeze.
Oh no, I thought. Devi's allergies! Devi was highly allergic to dust.
"Devi, are you going to be okay?" I meet a sneeze in reply. "Dev, get out in the hallway. Now."
Realizing it was for her own good, she retreated as I advanced, combing through my mind in hopes of a cleaning charm, or a counter to allergies. No such luck.
I trod on a square of rug that was darker than the rest of the rug. It was hard to make out colors under the dust.
Suddenly the room lit up brightly. All the dust disappeared, and warmth flooded the room, banishing the frost from my bones. It seemed the dark square of rug was a trigger to a restoring spell.
"Devi! Come here quickly!" I urged her, not turning around.
She followed me in, saying something about the rust on the bolt not there any more. I wasn't really listening. Instead, I was gazing around at the magnificent surroundings.
Magnificent it was. The newly rebuilt book-shelves were of dark red mahogany, as were the tables and the frames of the chairs. I could see little of the walls, as they were mostly shelves, but the parts I could see were covered by acutely-detailed needlework tapestries.
Now that there was no dust on the ground, I could see the rug pattern clearly. It was a giant Hogwarts crest, with a creamy white background.
Devi gasped as she looked around. "Oh my God! What is this?"
"That," I said softly as I gazed around, "is the question."
I padded silently into the middle of the room. With all these books, I mused, this seems to be a library. A library! Suddenly it all hit me. "Devi, this is a library!"
"Yes, I've realized that by now," she retorted.
"But I don't think it's just any library! You know how old it looked when we walked in? When it was all in ruins? Like it was a a thousand years old, right? And what was the door handle? The crest of Hogwarts. And what is the pattern on the carpet? The crest of Hogwarts. And," I continued, "if you follow me," I strode over to a door in the upper right corner, "this door leads off from the Gryffindor part of the crest. In here are more books." With a flourish, I flung open the door, and Devi came walking up behind me. "And they are all bound in red and gold. Look at the pattern on the floor. It's a lion in a red background. Doesn't that mean anything?"
"No," said Devi, who was peering over my shoulder in hopes I would stop talking and let her explore.
"And see here, on the table, there's a bunch of papers, or letters. One of them seems to be a will. And they're all signed . . ." I gestured that Devi should finish the sentence. She walked over to the table, picked up the top parchment, and gasped when she saw the large, thick signature.
"Godric Gryffindor? But he's been dead for a thousand years! This is impossible!"
"So was magic, until last August." I said softly, remembering my shock when I found out I was a witch.
Devi turned to face me. "Do you really think . . . ?"
She didn't need to finish her question. "Yes. I do."
I walked into the other rooms leading off the main one. They contained books with the bindings of the house colors, and, sometimes on the table, sometimes in other places, parchments with the founders' signatures on them. Salazar's was spiky and slightly harsh, but subtle. Rowena's was thin, neat, and rolling. Helga Hufflepuff's signature was small, firm, and round-ish.
"Devi," I said, slightly breathless, amazed at our discoveries, "I do believe we have found the Founders' Library."