Chapter 6 – The Hideaway
Hermione – along with the trembling Crookshanks still encased in her arms - followed Charlie expectantly and with a sense of great excitement she hadn't felt for some time. Despite her constant badgering, he playfully refused to tell her the whereabouts of his mysterious 'hideaway' until they reached their destination. As the pair walked along the Gryffindor corridor towards the Grand Staircase, Hermione let her imagination run wild and convinced herself that the secret room was probably either located in the tallest room of the highest tower or amongst the deepest, darkest caverns of the lowest dungeons. She was rather pleasantly surprised when Charlie led her downstairs to the Entrance Hall and proceeded out of the castle into the damp, darkening school grounds. Soon, Hermione realised that they appeared to be heading towards the banks of the overflowing Black Lake.
"I had no idea you lived out in the grounds, Charlie," Hermione whispered cautiously, aware of the eerie stillness around them. "I would have thought the castle a more suitable - and comfortable - choice for a hideaway…"
"I have my reasons," shrugged Charlie mysteriously, glancing around at Hermione, the same sad smile playing on his pale lips.
Before Hermione had the chance to successfully persuade Charlie to explain his 'reasons', they had reached the banks of the Lake and were standing next to an ancient, imposing tree.
"Ladies first," grinned Charlie, bowing flamboyantly and gesturing towards the massive grey tree-trunk.
Hermione stared at the huge tree in awe, totally oblivious as to what it was that she was supposed to be doing 'first'. Hesitantly, she leaned forward and searched in vain for grooves on the coarse, grey bark of the tree.
"I can't climb this thing, Charlie! There aren't even any footholds! I'd be sure to slip and fall to my death-" she stopped herself, unwilling to approach the subject that so evidently saddened her new friend more than any other. But, to her surprise, Charlie began to laugh.
"We're not going to climb the blasted thing, silly!" he chuckled merrily. "Why, that would put a perfectly good door to waste, wouldn't it?"
"What door?" asked Hermione, staring at the seemingly normal tree in utter confusion.
"Ah, you'll just have to work it out for yourself, won't you, Miss Smarty Pants? I'm sure you'll get to the root of the problem eventually," sniggered Charlie, his handsome eyes twinkling mischievously. And with that, he disappeared into the vast tree-trunk.
Hermione stood for some time, alone and uncertain what to do next. She couldn't for the life of her see anything even resembling a door within the rough surface of the tree. Suddenly, something clicked in her clever brain and, shaking her head, she smiled ruefully at her own foolishness. She looked down towards her feet and began searching. After just twenty seconds of scanning the huge amount of ground surrounding the tree, an amused Hermione found what she had been seeking. A large overgrown root protruded from the ground like a fat, knobbly snake, completely smothered in foliage apart from one small smooth circle, which was conspicuously clear of any undergrowth. Hermione's smile broadened further when she spied the letters 'C.W.' carved in its midst. She withdrew her wand with a graceful sweep and gently tapped the crude markings with its tip. The letters began to gleam a bright blood red and a jet of crimson light burst from the heart of the 'C'. Hermione turned to find that the glowing stream was concentrating on a small section of the tree-trunk. Suddenly and with a loud 'POP!' an ornate, ruby doorknob appeared on the calloused surface of the bark, in the exact spot where the scarlet beam shone with the brilliance of the Sun. Hermione smiled appreciatively at the cunning behind the magic, turned the beautifully-crafted doorknob and entered the belly of the fascinating tree.
"That…" began Ron cheerfully, "has got to be the funniest bloody thing I have ever seen in my life!"
"Funnier than the time Seamus nearly blew himself up brushing his teeth?" asked Harry, grinning widely as he followed Ron through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room.
"Much funnier than that!"
"Funnier than the time Malfoy was transfigured into a ferret?"
"Funnier still!"
"Funnier than the Boggart transforming into Snape wearing Neville's grandmother's clothes?"
"Yes! Even funnier than that! And that was bloody funny!" Ron snorted with laughter, clutching his sides in delirious pain, certain they would split in two if he didn't calm down at once. "Snape'll be pulling slimy gunge out of his nostrils till New Year! Did you see how much he swallowed!"
"Let's hope the stuff's lethal!" sighed Harry, crumbling exhaustedly into his favourite fireside chair. Ron collapsed next to him and turned to his best friend, glad to notice that he seemed truly content for the first time in many months. He almost looked like his old, happy self. Almost…
"He was absolutely drenched in the nasty stuff!" Ron continued, eager to extend Harry's good mood further. "But it didn't make much difference to his greasy hair, if anything it looked better covered in vomit-coloured goo!" Ron continued to howl with laughter for several minutes, before stopping abruptly and gazing around the room, seemingly searching for something.
"What, or whom, are you looking for?" asked Harry, puzzledly.
"Hermione," Ron muttered absently, his eyes still busily foraging every dark corner of the crowded common room.
"She went to bed, mate. You heard her in the Great Hall. She said she was tired. As would I be if I'd been reading textbooks all night long…"
"If you believed that load of codswaddle for one minute, then you're a bloody fool, Harry. She was up to something last night, and it certainly wasn't literary-based!" Ron's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "I bet she's off doing whatever it is again now. She wasn't tired at dinnertime; she looked more awake than me!" Harry sighed wearily and glanced up to see Lavender Brown descending the stairs from the Gryffindor dormitories.
"Oi, Lav!" he shouted, casually. "Is Hermione up there?" Ron looked up expectantly as Lavender approached the pair and shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.
"Nope, the place is as dead as Nearly Headless Nick. Everyone's down here talking about Peeves and his knack for explosives. In fact…" her eyes widened curiously, "I haven't seen Hermione since I spotted her leaving the castle with some bloke earlier on. A very handsome bloke at that." She eyed Ron's grey face and chuckled. "I didn't recognise him, he might be new. Perhaps they've snuck off for a bit of privacy, away from prying eyes…" And with an impish wink, she walked away, leaving in her wake an amused Harry and a very pale-looking Ron.
Hermione was enveloped in total darkness as the rough, grey door closed behind her. In fact, it was probably the darkest of darknesses she'd ever encountered. It felt almost as if a cloak of the darkest satin had been draped over her head, reluctant for her curious eyes to see what was lying ahead.
"Lumos," she whispered automatically, relieved and grateful when the tip of her wand sparked into a blaze of light. She realised she had been holding her breath and blew out in a long gust. Then, she gasped.
She was in a large, dusty room. (Much bigger than she would have expected of the insides of a simple tree). But, it was not the sheer size of the room that had made her gasp in surprise. It was the contents. She was surrounded by a most curious collection of objects: Quidditch balls of all varieties scattered the floor, watches and jewellery of gold and silver glinted on spindly tables, lonely-looking shoes hung from the ceiling by their shoelaces - each despondently missing their partner, gleaming trophies stood proudly on a damp-looking cabinet - all bearing the name 'Charlie Winters', water-sodden books teetered in piles near the uneven walls... Overall, the items were not exactly what one would expect to find inside an eighty-foot oak tree.
Hesitantly, and wondering where on earth Charlie had disappeared to, Hermione approached the old-fashioned trophy cabinet and studied its shining contents. Her sharp eyes swept across the glittering medals and well-kept cups, observing the blatant difference in quality and care between these objects and the old, damp, rotting specimens cluttering the rest of the room. As she admired the numerous awards, something brown caught her eye. Something out of place… There was an old, bulky book tucked away behind the biggest trophy of all, awarded for 'Services to the School'. Automatically, she reached for it – as she would any book that took her interest in the school library – and gazed down at the attractive cover. It bore no writing, but a golden pattern of flowing beauty seeped through the leather like a cluster of rivers on an otherwise vacant map. Mesmerised by the book's splendour, she gently began to lift the front cover.
"What exactly do you think you're doing?" came a cold, angry voice behind her that Hermione didn't recognise. She turned around slowly only to be met with a pair of piercing blue eyes that could only belong to Charlie. Only this time, they weren't warm and friendly. Instead, they were filled with the purest contempt.
A/N:-
(4 July 06): Hi there :o) First of all, I know a lot of you have been very put out by the insanely long wait for a new chapter! All I can do is offer my sincerest apologies. Unfortunately, I have encountered some 'personal stuff' over the past year or so, which has prevented me from continuing with the story. Again, I'm sorry, but I hope you can understand and will find it in your lovely big hearts to forgive me! I am back on track now and will be posting chapters much more often, as we approach our tantalising climax! I really hope you enjoy reading this chapter and are still hooked on the mystery of Charlie Winters! Happy guessing! ;o) Your ever-devoted writer, Nicki xxx (P.S – Happy 4th of July to my American readers! Hope you like your present!)