Just a quick note on the timeline: Allen arrived the second week of October (first Hogsmeade weekend) and has spent about two weeks in the castle. This chapter and last chapter take place the Friday before the first Quidditch game of the year, which happens the first weekend in November. Now to the chapter.
Chapter 10
The walk down to the Great Hall was awkward. Hermione was carrying her school bag, laden with heavy texts, as Allen limped behind her. He'd lost the crutches but was still relatively slower, and Hermione tried not to hurry him.
She glanced at the strange boy for what felt like the thousandth time since coming from Dumbledore's office. She remembered their first meeting and how Allen had avoided answering her questions. Then there had been several instances in the office when he'd been talking to Dumbledore that seemed…off. That was such an inadequate word and yet at the moment it was the best she could come up with. But what struck her as strangest of all was that, for all intents and purposes, he was a Muggle. Something made him immune to the castle's anti-Muggle wards and that made Hermione's mind spin.
But the questions would have to wait.
"Allen?" she said, her voice polite and friendly.
"Yes?"
"I have to be at the Astronomy tower in fifteen minutes and it's on the other side of the school. Can you find the Great Hall on your own?"
Allen nodded, but he seemed slightly panicked. Hermione checked her watch; she was down another minute and really needed to go. "I'm sorry about this, but I can't be late. I'll make it up to you at dinner, is that alright?"
"Sure," he answered, still quite polite despite his expression. "I'll be fine. I think I recognize this hallway."
She smiled apologetically and said, "I really am sorry about this. See you later!"
Allen watched the girl hurry off, and sighed, glancing down the hall. He was beginning to get a hang of some of the areas of the castle, but the moving staircases still got him mixed up. He just hoped he was close by.
Ten minutes later Allen was no closer to lunch than before, and his stomach was beginning to loudly object. He turned a corner, hoping this was it, and ran into his first ghost.
Or rather, through his first ghost.
A horrible coldness washed over him and he turned about, running his hands over his arms and then freezing as he stared at the semi-transparent man he'd run into.
"Pardon me, I'm terribly sorry," the man said. Allen just stared. The man was in ancient clothes, with a large frilly collar, poufy shorts and tights. "Are you alright, young man?"
"Y-y…you're a ghost," Allen said dumbly, staring.
The ghost nodded, looking proud. "Indeed. I am Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower. A pleasure to make your acquaintance," he said, and gave Allen a deep bow at the waist. His head rolled forward and Allen stepped back as worms wriggled in his stomach at the sight of ghostly flesh and tendons.
"You're…ah," Allen said, pointing. "Your head, Sir Nicholas…"
"Ah, yes," he said, pulling himself upright and readjusting his head firmly on his shoulders. "Botched execution. The man didn't finish the job correctly before I expired." Allen stared in horror at the ghost, who looked down at him from three feet in the air, concern growing more and more evident as he looked the boy over.
"I'm sorry; I find it odd we've never met. I usually remember a face... Are you a Ravenclaw or a Hufflepuff, perhaps?" Glancing at the scar he ventured cautiously, "Maybe a Slytherin?"
Allen stared.
"You aren't in uniform, and classes are going on," Sir Nicholas observed, a disapproving frown forming. "I should report you, you know."
"I'm not a student," Allen replied hurriedly.
"Oh, I see," Sir Nicholas said, nodding, all growing disapproval vanishing. The wobbling motion made Allen a little queasy. A few beats of awkward silence passed before Sir Nicolas asked, concern evident, "Are you sure you're alright, young man?"
"Um…"
"It's almost as if you've never seen a ghost before."
Allen tilted his head a bit, muttering, "Well, you wouldn't call them ghosts I guess…" Allen sighed. What a weird day this was turning out to be. "I've just never met someone like you before."
"I believe I could say the same thing, Mr. …?"
"Allen Walker," he said, holding up a hand before reconsidering and letting it drop.
"Yes, I've seen and met a few interesting-looking students in my time—werewolves, Metamorphamagi, and so on…but no matter, it's the character that makes the person."
Allen just nodded. "So, um, Sir Nicholas, maybe you could help me? I was looking for the Great Hall. I missed lunch."
"Oh, I see," Sir Nicholas replied. "They stopped serving a few minutes ago, the house elves will be preparing dinner now." Allen slumped, lamenting his loss. "I am sorry," the ghost said again, and Allen just nodded.
"'s okay," he mumbled, his stomach growling softly.
"If it makes you feel any better, I have eaten in 500 years," Sir Nicholas said consolingly. "I do miss it, sometimes."
Allen wasn't sure what to say to that other than, "I'm sorry."
The ghost didn't seem bothered. "Nothing to be sorry about, my boy. Now, is there anywhere else in the castle you would like to go? I do not mind being an assistant. Please, tell me! I have all the time in the world at my disposal." Sir Nicholas smiled slightly at that.
Allen was about to say no, he was fine, when he remembered that Dumbledore had said something about a library. "Can you show me where the library is?"
Sir Nicholas looked surprised but then nodded (head teetering slightly) before floating off. Allen followed after him, trying to keep the turns and staircases in mind as they walked, but soon too many blurred around and he knew he was going to need help to get back. His mind wandered to Timcampy and his chest ached with worry. Sir Nicholas stopped outside a large set of double doors and motioned grandly. "Here we are, the Hogwarts Library, with one of the most extensive collections of magical knowledge in the world."
Allen smiled up at Sir Nicholas. "Thank you, Sir Nicholas," he said, and gave the man a short bow. Sir Nicholas seemed surprised but then smiled and bowed back—another full bow that had his head hanging off. Allen grimaced at the sight.
"Remember, if you are ever in need of ghostly service, do call on Sir Nicholas and I will be at hand."
"Right, I will." Just before he turned away, a thought came to him and Allen turned to Sir Nicholas. "Have you seen a little golden golem around? He'd have wings and a tail and be about this big," he added, gesturing with his hands.
Sir Nicholas shook his head. "I am afraid I haven't, but I will keep an eye out for him."
"Thanks." With that, Allen walked inside, leaving his queasy stomach and Sir Nicholas behind.
The library was huge; Allen could already tell that to search in here would probably take a while—months, if he was lucky. Better yet, he wasn't sure where to start. He walked down the main aisle separating two sides of the library, feeling more and more overwhelmed as he passed row after row of shelves, and paled at the sight of a second and third floor.
"Can I help you?" a pinched voice said from beside him, and Allen turned to see a woman with severe expression and glasses hanging on the edge of her nose staring down at him. A basket of books was in her hands, and her wand was tucked behind her ear, held in place by a lopsided witch's hat.
"Er…I'm looking for a book on curses," Allen said. She stared down at him over her glasses, and the frown only deepened as she sniffed and turned on.
"This way, please," she sniffed, and Allen followed as quickly as he could behind. She took him toward an annex off the main stretch of stacks and pointed to several bookcases.
"These are some rudimentary texts on a number of curses. It should be enough to get you started. If you need any help, the front desk is over there," she pointed vaguely off from where they came. "Please be careful handling the books." With that she was off, leaving Allen feeling like he'd done something wrong.
Maybe she thought he'd breathe wrong on the books or something.
He stared at the shelves and began selecting books at random, piling them on a nearby table until there were at least fifteen heavy, dusty tomes for him to go through.
Two hours later, Allen was leaning back in his chair, asleep, a little drool coming out of his mouth. He twitched every once in a while and a grimace formed on his face more often than not. That was how Hermione found him, trying to find a quiet spot to study. She'd been surprised to see the boy there, but figured that perhaps it was a perfect opportunity to start on...whatever it was Dumbledore wanted her to do.
Why her, she had no real idea.
She looked at a couple of the books on Allen's table: Curse Conundrums by Cornelius Heade, Encyclopedia Maledictum Volume XVII, and even a slim yellow item called The Idiot's Guide to Hexes, Curses, and Most Magic Most Foul. This last one made Hermione smile a moment before setting it down, the first one she'd made in days.
She came over to Allen's side and called out, "Allen? Allen, wake up."
He started, leaping up in his seat and looking around sharply, arms up in a defensive gesture, eyes wide and focused. He was breathing hard and that's when Hermione noticed the sheen of sweat on his forehead. He glanced at her and she stepped back in surprise at the look on his face—fierce and frightened. It took him another few moments to realize where he was.
"Allen, are you alright?" she asked tentatively.
He nodded, swallowing a couple of times and lowering his arms. He wiped at his face with the gloved hand and frowned at the sweat before looking at the piles of books. "I must've fallen asleep…" he muttered. Glancing up guiltily at Hermione he said, "Sorry."
"It's fine," she said shortly, stepping back and giving him some space. She looked over at the books and remembered the conversation in Dumbledore's office. "Did you make any progress?"
Allen shook his head. "No. This isn't really my thing."
"Act first, ask questions later, right?" Hermione said.
He nodded. "Something like that."
She hummed noncommittally and then asked, "Mind if I join you?"
Allen glanced around the space; there were plenty of empty tables around. He didn't really have a good reason to say no, though. "Sure."
Hermione set her books down, arranging them just so for optimum elbow room, before taking a seat across from Allen. "So what exactly are you trying to find?"
Allen glanced at the books and then at Hermione. "Don't you have homework to do?"
A strange expression passed over her face so quickly that Allen almost didn't catch it, but then she nodded and said, "You're right; I have a Potions essay I really should start on."
Allen sighed, pulling the book that he'd fell asleep reading back toward him. "I know Dumbledore told you to, but you don't have to babysit me. I'm fine on my own."
Hermione didn't say anything for a long moment, studying Allen. He met her gaze evenly back, silently challenging her. For minutes a silent battle of wills played out, Hermione wondering what he was thinking. His face had gone pleasantly blank, so she couldn't tell a thing he was thinking. Finally:
"Alright. I won't ask. But I am a prefect and this job to accompany you in the castle was tasked to me in that role. It's my duty. Do you understand?"
Allen nodded after a minute, slumping back in his seat, expression still unreadable. "Fine," he mumbled.
And with that, she pulled out a couple of books, a roll of parchment, ink, quills, and hunched over her space to begin working.
xox
They went down to dinner together, half of Hermione's essay finished and no progress made on the anti-Noah front. While Hermione had done her homework, Allen had stared at mind-numbingly confusing text filled with words and phrases that boggled him, and wanting to weep from the complexity of it all.
When they entered the hall Allen turned right while Hermione turned left, and she didn't notice until she'd almost reached her seat. Glancing around, she spotted the white hair almost immediately—taking his usual seat at the end of the Ravenclaw table with Luna. He greeted her with a smile and sat down beside her. The food came, and they were talking—at least Luna must have been because Allen had already started to plow his way through his dinner.
"Hermione? What're you looking at?" Harry asked, and she glanced down at him. Harry was looking at her curiously and then looked around her to see what she was staring at. Ron sat beside him, but didn't look at Hermione, angry with her.
"You came in with him, right?" Harry said, motioning to Allen.
"Yes." Hermione sat down hesitantly, worrying at her lip as she watched Allen. Harry frowned, hoping the boy hadn't caused her more grief on top of her fighting with Ron. It had increased recently, just when Harry was beginning to think the two were moving in a better direction.
"What's up?"
"Well…Dumbledore called me into his office earlier today and asked me to keep an eye on him. Apparently he's staying at Hogwarts for a little while."
"They'll just want to make sure the curse doesn't relapse, I bet."
Hermione didn't look so certain. "I suppose, but there's something else," she said, pulling pasta onto her plate. "He's staying and, get this, I found him in the library today with several books on curses. And when I was in Dumbledore's office, he mentioned helping the boy break a curse on him."
Harry looked curious as he gulped down his pumpkin juice. "Did he say what kind of curse?"
"No," Hermione said, and then leaned in. Harry hunched closer, listening, and even Ron, who was pretending not to notice Hermione, leaned forward a bit.
"I don't think he knows anything about curses. Dumbledore said he was a Muggle."
"A Muggleborn?" Harry asked, a little surprised at his friend. "What difference should that make?"
"No, no," she shook her head impatiently. "I mean, he's a Muggle. No magic at all." Harry and Ron both stopped eating and stared incredulously over at Allen. Hermione kicked Harry under the table, ignoring Ron.
"Ouch! What was that for?"
"Don't be so obvious," she hissed.
"I don't understand," Harry said, looking back at her. "I mean, how is that possible? The castle would just turn him out, right?"
Hermione was worrying at her lip again. "I don't know. There were a lot of other things Dumbledore mentioned that don't make any sense at all."
"Like what?"
She shook her head. "Later. I want to look some things up first."
"We have that Potions essay, don't we?" Harry said. "And Quidditch is tomorrow."
"I'm halfway done," Hermione replied dismissively. She didn't mention Quidditch and Harry regretted bringing it up. It was then that Ron decided he couldn't take anymore of dinner and got up, but Harry let him go, tired from trying to keep his spirits up about the game tomorrow.
"Just don't push yourself, okay?" he said quietly, and Hermione looked up at him sadly.
"I'll be fine, Harry," she answered.
Meanwhile at the Ravenclaw table: "Allen, do you want to go to the Quidditch game tomorrow?"
"The what?"
"Quidditch—tomorrow's the first match and, seeing that you can walk now, I thought some fresh air might be nice. What do you say?"
"What's Quidditch?"
"It's a sport, playing on broomsticks. It's quite fun," Luna said.
"Broomsticks?" Allen said incredulously. "You mean witches really fly on brooms?"