Chapter 40: The Stairwell
The scream had come from the opposite direction from Albus's office, and Harry soon found himself in the giant room with all the moving staircases. The entrance to the headmaster's office was on the seventh floor, the highest of the non-tower floors, so Harry was at the highest point in the staircase room. The bottom of the giant stairwell was level with the first floor, and didn't go to the ground floor. The staircase from the first floor to the ground floor was, of course, the grand marble staircase that opened down into the Entry Hall. There were, of course, other stairs that went between each floor, and there were secret passage ways that could take you up or down three floors, and secret slides and elevators, but the staircase chamber, its walls coated in portraits that moved as much as the stairs, received the most traffic.
Harry had six floors beneath him, and six flights of stairs, but looking over the railing, he saw immediately where the scream had come from. One of the staircases, normally floating between landings, was smashed against the marble floor at the bottom of the chamber. The flight of stairs seemed mostly intact, but there was a girl who seemed to be trapped somehow...
Harry wasted no time. He plunged off the side of the landing on the seventh floor, and free-fell. He slowed his decent slightly as he approached the bottom of the chamber, and cushioned the floor. His legs still buckled on impact and he winced in pain, but he shook it off and hurried over to the girl.
It was Artemis Arma, Luna Lovegood's mother, a third year. Both of her legs, up to the knee, were trapped, crushed, beneath the giant stone flight of stairs. Tears were streaming down her ghost-white face and making her white-blond hair stick to her cheeks. A small crowd of students were gathering. Some of them had their wands out and appeared to be trying to lift the stairs off with no success.
"Ok. Everyone take three steps back! Thank you!" called Harry. "Ms. Arma, you're going to be fine. Mr. Lovegood, please go get Professor Dumbledore. He's in his office on the seventh floor. The password is 'strudel.' Tell him there's been an accident and tell him where we are, please. Thank you. Now, Artemis, I'm going to numb your legs. Is that ok?"
She bit her lip in pain, but nodded calmly. Harry put his hand on her shoulder and felt out to her with his body aura and numbed the nerves in her legs that were giving her so much pain. He could tell that the feet and calves were completely mangled, and that each leg bone had been broken at least once. He looked back up when he was done numbing and saw that Xenophilius Lovegood hadn't moved. "Mr. Lovegood, now, please!"
"But Sir, the staircases have stopped. I can't get to the seventh floor, sir. I suspect nargle involvement. If I could just—"
Harry growled in frustration. "I will be back in five seconds. Count, ok? One..."
"Two..." panted Artemis. Harry dissapparated to Albus's office.
"-Ah, I'm sorry. I thought you said it was off campus. Could the project-"
"Honestly, Albus, I should like to ask you what you are working on with Harry. Like he thought I'd buy 'working with a student...' I could hear him breathing in here when I came in. Did he do that apparition trick again?"
"OY!" interrupted Harry when Minerva and Albus didn't notice his flustered waving. "Emergency in the stair. NOW." He dissapparated again.
"...Five."
"Ah, right on time. Now. May I lift this off your legs? It won't hurt, but you might want to close your eyes. Your legs are not going to look pretty.
"I will keep my eyes open, I think," said Artemis. "I always wondered what legs would look like if they were crushed by a flight of stairs."
"Oh. You...did? That's...well. Anyway." He glanced around at the surrounding students. "Could everyone move against a wall, please? I don't want to hit anyone with this!"
Harry pulled out his wand, but before he could do anything, the staircase lifted itself of its own accord back into the air. The few fragments that had been knocked off reattached themselves, and the staircase made a beeline to its space between the first and second floors. Harry looked up to see that all of the other staircases had begun moving again too.
"Right..." Harry was only distracted for a moment before turning his attention back to Artemis. "Now, may I fix your legs?" he asked.
"Yes, that would be fine, thanks," said Artemis. "They do look rather horrible. That might be the most horrible thing I've ever seen."
"Don't say I didn't warn you," said Harry. "Ok. Now. Lay back and just...stay still for a moment, or something."
Harry put both of his hands above Artemis's left leg and began working. He mended the bones, and ligaments, and muscles, and, finally, skin. Then he did the other leg.
"You've never done this before, have you?" asked Artemis.
"Not really," said Harry. "I fixed Professor Dumbledore's leg one time."
"I trust you," she said.
"Thanks," said Harry.
"Would you like to know what happened?" she asked when Harry began repairing the muscle on the second leg.
"If you'd like to tell me," said Harry, keeping his eyes on the leg.
"Well, I looked up and saw that all of the staircases had frozen in place. The one between the first and second floor was the only one with people on it. I think those people over there were on it. And then it fell, and I was under it. I think it might have been too heavy, like there was just enough magic to hold it up, but not enough to move it or hold it up with people on it, so it fell."
Harry had long since deduced that Luna got her strange (and normally false) ideas from her father, and her Ravenclaw brains from her mother.
"That's an interesting theory," said a voice from behind Harry. Albus and Minerva had just made it off the last staircase.
"We saw all of the staircases stopped when we were on the seventh floor," said Minerva. "We saw when they started moving again."
Albus crouched next to Artemis.
"How do you feel?" he asked her softly.
"Oh, I think I'll be fine," she said. "But a few of those people over there might have sprained ankles. They were on the stair when it fell."
"Minerva?" asked Albus.
Minerva nodded and hurried off to the crowd of students.
"Ms. Arma," said Albus softly. "Did you see anything out of the ordinary before the stairs immobilized? Did you hear anything? Feel anything?"
"No, Professor Dumbledore. There was nothing."
Albus sighed and turned to Harry, who was finishing up and un-numbing Artemis's legs. "Harry? Did you feel anything?"
"To be honest, I was a bit distracted by..." he trailed off. The room of requirement had done the same thing!
He met eyes with Albus. "Would you like to continue this conversation in my office?" Albus asked, sensing Harry's realization. Harry nodded.
He turned back to Artemis and absently cleaned the blood off of her clothes and shoes. "Artemis, do you think you're alright, or would you like to go to the Hospital Wing to take something for shock?" He knew she'd answer honestly.
"I was a little frightened, but I don't think I need any potion for it."
"You should have been in Gryffindor," said Harry with a wink.
"Really, sir, I'm smarter than I am brave."
"And that is saying something. Mr. Lovegood, will you keep an eye on Ms. Arma just in case, please? Thank you," said Albus. "Minerva," he called over the raising din. "Do you have everything—"
"Yes! Go!" she called.
Harry put his hand on Albus's shoulder, and the two of them vanished. They reappeared in the middle of the seventh floor corridor.
"I was distracted...when the Room of Requirement didn't work," Harry told Albus. "I tried to get in, the door appeared, but when I opened it, it was all black and there was this horrible howling noise. That happened twice, but then it worked after that. I'm sure it wasn't because of what I was asking it— I was asking it for really normal rooms, but it just...didn't work."
"Does it work now?" asked Albus.
"Let's see," said Harry. I need to get Albus into the Room of Requirement. I need a room. I need a room for Albus, he thought as he paced.
A door appeared and he pulled it open. They both stepped inside.
The room was fairly dark, but flickered all over with candle light. A large king bed covered in rose petals sat against the opposite wall.
"Tired?" asked Albus.
"Exhausted," lied Harry before yanking Albus back out into the corridor. "My point is, could this be related to the stairs? It just...stopped working for a moment."
"They are similar incidents," mused Albus, "but I don't see enough evidence to suggest that they are related. We should keep vigilant, and perhaps ask the students, ghosts and paintings to report anything unusual. It may be that they are related, and it's possible that incidents have been occurring for a while without attracting our notice, or perhaps we'll remember something..."
Albus stopped talking and stared at a bit of space.
"What?" asked Harry. "Did you remember something?"
Albus looked up. "Ah, memory...a curious thing. Excuse, me, Harry. I need to go see to something." He flicked his wand in the direction of his office and began pacing in front of the Room of Requirement. Soon a small vial came zooming down the hall, and Albus caught it. A door appeared in the wall and Albus opened, walked through, and shut it behind him. The door vanished, and Harry was alone.
Harry blinked a few times, and then walked back down the hall towards the stairwell. He only got about half way, however, before he ran straight into Minerva.
"So, did you figure it out?" she asked.
"What? Oh, the stairs? Albus just...ran off. I think he might have had some sort of idea."
"Well, while I was sorting out bruises, I remembered that night when we went to Comede Noctem— when the kitchens weren't working. Did Albus ever figure out what was wrong with them?"
"Hey! You're right! Id' forgotten about the kitchens. That seems like the same thing! And, you know how there are all kinds of magical rooms...well, when I was...um... on my way downstairs a few minutes ago, I tried to get into one and it didn't work. That was right before the stairs stopped working."
"I wonder what's wrong. But you think Albus figured it out?"
"To be honest, I have no idea what he ran off about. You know him." They were both quiet for a moment.
"Well, when he comes back, we'll tell him about the kitchens."
"Yep," said Harry.
They were quiet again, stuck in a very uncomfortable silence. Minerva broke it violently.
"You're working on a secret project with Albus?"
"What? I— no! We were just-"
"If it wasn't a secret project, why did you tell me you were working in the vault?"
"I was, but then I-"
"Ended up under Albus's desk."
"He dropped a quill."
"And you stayed there hiding from me."
"Because I told you I was in the vault— and I thought you'd think I was lying if you saw me in Albus's office."
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. I'd have thought you'd changed your mind about working in the vault, not lying. Now I think you were lying. In fact, I know you're lying."
"Why, did Albus tell you?"
"See? You've got Albus keeping secrets from me, just like I'm keeping secrets from him!"
Harry could have hit himself. He changed the subject. "Did you tell him about the vault?"
"Well, you know Albus. You never know how much he knows."
"But?"
"I don't think he got anything significant. He knows we're working on something. I still don't understand why you can't tell him about the vault— and why you're not telling me what you're working on with him unless it's...it's..." she gasped. "No! No way! Under his desk...Oh Merlin." She grimaced and covered her face with her hands. "Crockett. Really? That's just—"
"What? What! No! NO! We weren't...Did you think...? No! What, wait...is that what you thought?"
"Is what what I thought...?"
"That we...what did you think we were doing?"
"I thought...well...that...um..."
"Well, we weren't," said Harry sharply.
They stared each other down.
"Fine."
"Fine."
Minerva sniffed. "So, what were you doing?"
"Really, Minerva. It's nothing."
"Nothing like a giant vault with historical objects from the Hogwarts founders themselves?"
"Nope," said Harry. "You got the good project."
"So if it's nothing, tell me what you're doing. Or- Or I'll tell Albus about the vault."
"Minerva! Oh, come on! That would be catastrophic and you know it."
"No, Harry, I don't know that. You haven't given me any of your reasons why that would be so terrible."
"That's his business."
"Well, you can either tell me why I can't tell him, tell me what you're working on with him, or I'll tell him about the vault."
"Did 'Blackmail' used to be a course at Hogwarts?"
"Have you a quill? Dear Albus, Harry has a secret vault that he opens with his Deathly Hallow cloak and it has-"
"Alright, alright! Just...Keep your voice down," pleaded Harry, glancing nervously at the wall where the Room of Requirement (with Albus in it) was. "Come on...we'll go somewhere private." Minerva smiled and skipped like a schoolgirl for a few feet. Fawkes momentarily added a skip to Harry's step too before Harry stopped it.
They found a deserted classroom, and Harry put silencing charms around the door.
"Ok. So. The reason why I didn't tell you about this is because I don't want to have to tell the ministry...If you tell, I swear I will obliviate you and everyone involved," he threatened. She shrugged innocently. "I'm trying to change my animagus form—or optimally add one to my repertoire. I'm trying to change into a phoenix."
Minerva sighed. "You got all worked up over that? Don't worry, Crockett. I won't tell anyone— if you manage to do it, anyway."
Harry sighed in relief. Having secrets was stressful.
"So, why a phoenix?" asked Minerva.
Harry grimaced. He hadn't thought out this part of the conversation. "So, did you ever meet Fawkes?"
"The phoenix?"
"Yeah. He...got killed, um, a few months ago."
"Wow...I wondered where he'd gone. But, I thought phoenixes couldn't die."
"Well, I thought they could only die if they chose to kill themselves, but he got in the way of a particular wand..."
"What wand could kill a phoenix?"
"Erm...So...You remember the Deathly Hallows?"
"That wand? The Elder Wand? Death's Wand? You have that one too?"
"Erm...no. A..friend of mine...does."
"And your friend killed Fawkes?"
"Not...no. I— It was an accident."
"Right. So. You're turning into a phoenix as a tribute to Fawkes?"
"Not exactly...Ah...Fawkes is still alive."
"You just said-"
"His body's dead, but his, er, soul is still alive...Um..." Minerva looked at him blankly. "He got transferred to me, sort of, and now he's..."
"Crockett, are you telling me you're sharing your body with the soul of a dead phoenix?"
"Er...yes. I suppose I am."
She pressed her lips together in a perfect impersonation of her older self and nodded. "Conjure me a brandy and I'll believe anything you say."
Albus shut the door to the Room of Requirement behind him and strode quickly to the Pensive. He emptied the memory into the basin and dipped his face in after.
Icy rain fell through Albus's robes, and the wind howled around him. His boots sank inches deep into mud that couldn't touch him. He looked around, surveying the storm. The Quidditch stands rose around him, and the roar of a crowd could just be heard over the wind. Albus headed directly over to the stands. He ducked into a flight of stairs that was sheltered from the rain, the flight of stairs where he knew he would find his future self.
And there Professor Dumbledore stood before him, his silver beard glistening slightly with drops of water.
"You should come with me," said the man in the memory before sweeping off in the direction of the exit.
Albus hurried after his older self.
Soon the two men were back in the storm, fighting their way back to the castle. They finally reached the stairs and the empty entry hall. Professor Dumbledore dried himself wandlessly.
"Welcome. The year is 1993. Harry is in his third year, and I…I am still headmaster, remarkably."
They climbed the grand staircase and started treading the path towards the headmaster's tower. Albus found himself wanting to walk more quickly. The memory seemed more tedious now that he was watching it for the second time— and he didn't know what he was looking for yet.
"I believe…you have accidentally stumbled upon this memory after Harry left it in the Room of Requirement. The watch is broken. You are in pain. Harry does not understand why. You mustn't blame him, and you mustn't blame yourself. Of course, I have never figured out why he wanted to look at this particular memory, but it gives us a chance to talk."
"Yes, and what else?"
"It isn't a two way communication, but I'm not senile yet," said Professor Dumbledore.
"I do hope not," muttered Albus. "Come on..."
Professor Dumbledore smiled faintly. "Do you remember what the inscription said on the back of the watch?"
There Albus paused for thought. If he knew he would watch the memory twice, he would put in statements that applied to both situations. Maybe if he tried to interpret himself in a different way... Was it possible that he could refer to two watches in the same conversation with himself?
"What did it stand for?"
One problem with that theory was, there was no inscription on the back of the watch Harry'd given him. Albus had spent long hours tracing its front, examining it all over. He'd noticed that the watch had more uses than telling time, but had yet to figure them all out. It was obviously a very old and magical artifact. It even resembled the timepiece Merlin himself was fabled to wear. There had been hundreds of thousands of replicas of Merlin's watch, of course, but Merlin's had untold special features. Albus just wondered where Harry could possibly have gotten this particular watch, Merlin's or, more likely, not.
"His partner," said Professor Dumbledore. "His partner in what?"
Well, Harry was working with a partner for his mystery project. Minerva was working with him— but partner in what, again?
They reached the spiral escalator. "Crock-pot," said Professor Dumbledore, and the gargoyles leaped aside.
What projects could Harry keep from him? What project would Harry keep from him, and why? Harry knew he could trust Albus—Albus had even promised to keep his second animagus form secret. "Harry knows very well that I would be very interested in any magical study or discoveries," Albus muttered.
"All too well. But have you forgotten your partnership for the Greater Good?"
"Ah! This is a conversation!" exclaimed Albus, keeping in step with Professor Dumbledore as he went into the room and over to the window. Professor Dumbledore nodded. Albus must have missed the nod on the first time through the memory because he'd hesitated in the doorway."But what does this have to do with the Greater Good?"
Professor Dumbledore made a hand gesture that could have been a shrug if his index finger hadn't been extended towards his desk...
Knowing his own motions quite well, Albus took the pointing gesture to be intentional and hurried off to the desk.
Professor Dumbledore kept talking to himself in the background... "There is no way to fix that, Albus, and perhaps your focus should not be on trying to fix his watch, but on fixing yourself so that you might take the time from a new watch, should you happen upon one." The memory flickered just as Albus swung behind the desk. He knew he had just seconds.
"It will be difficult, but it will be better," said Dumbledore, but Albus wasn't paying attention. He looking over all the papers on Dumbledore's desk.
The memory flickered again, and Albus's search became more frantic.
"Now?" Dumbledore asked.
The memory dimmed and flickered again.
Dear Merlin, why was everything written in green? Black was so much more legible. But there! A faded yellow piece of parchment with the illustration of a phoenix.
"Harry…" Albus heard Dumbledore say, before a woosh of flame and then...
The memory blacked out, and Albus found himself back in the Room of Requirement, sitting on the floor. He exhaled and took off his glasses, slightly dizzy from the transition between his frantic search and sitting on a floor.
But it was there! On the desk for him!
He got back on his feet and dove right back into the memory.
Icy rain fell through Albus's robes, and the wind howled around him. His boots sank inches deep into mud that couldn't touch him. The Quidditch stands rose around him, and the roar of a crowd could just be heard over the wind. Albus wasted no time. He jogged over to the stands, ducked into flight of stairs, passed his future self, and hurried back out into the rain and up to the castle. He took as many shortcuts as he knew, and soon came upon the gargoyles. He rushed past them and sprinted up the immobile escalator. He paused for the briefest moment outside the closed door to his office before remembering that he was a memory and that he could probably walk through things. He walked straight through the door and hurried over to his desk.
There it was, the drawing of a phoenix he'd done just months earlier. The page had yellowed and cracked around the edges, but the phoenix almost seemed brighter. Next to that was a piece of parchment with a short message in green ink.
When was the last time you visited Gringotts?
-APWBD
P.S.
Kitchens
The door to the office opened and Dumbledore swept in. "...But have you forgotten your partnership for the Greater Good?"
Professor Dumbledore nodded and pointed towards Albus and the desk.
Albus remembered the note and quickly committed it to (his own) memory.
Professor Dumbledore kept talking. "There is no way to fix that, Albus, and perhaps your focus should not be on trying to fix his watch, but on fixing yourself so that you might take the time from a new watch, should you happen upon one." The memory flickered, and Albus knew time was almost up again. He looked around to make sure he hadn't missed anything. But would this information even lead him to knowing Harry's project? Harry must have had a good reason for not telling him. Should he even know?
"It will be difficult, but it will be better," said Dumbledore, and for some reason Albus was sure that comment applied to him then.
The memory flickered again.
"Now?" Dumbledore asked the phoenix.
The memory dimmed and flickered again.
"Harry…" Albus heard Dumbledore say, before the phoenix grabbed him by the shoulders and they vanished in a whirl of flame.
The memory blacked out, and Albus found himself back in the Room of Requirement, sitting on the floor.
Gringotts?