Chapter 14: Hidden Room
DEDICATION: The very obvious plot. I am sick of cliches. I am making Lord Voldemort a lot more powerful than he already is. Ha!
THE SECOND DEDICATION: To my beta, paradoxed. An author that has a sharp wit and even sharper words. Thank you. This is chapter is not one of my best works, but thanks to him, it looks a lot better than it actually is.
THE THIRD DEDICATION: (I promise this is the last one). EXO. Or more specifically, the little morning fawn that left his brothers. Sorry, got obsessed.
Severus always thought that he knew his family.
He thought he knew every single one of his dysfunctional clan members. From the distant grandparents, to the fragile mother, to the bastard father, to the great potioneers of the Princes, to the broken band of furniture moving Snapes. He thought he knew it all.
He thought he knew his home, the Marauders that act like morons to everyone else but brothers to him. The lily flower, whom after one and a half years finally learned what 'leave me alone' meant. The sneak, whom had yet to cease being a pest. The twinkling eyed headmaster, with his insufferable smile and should-just-melt lemon drops.
He thought he knew it all, but Hogwarts did not favor only him. She harbored secrets, for both him, and them.
Woven magic never lies, and neither does his eyes.
*()*
It was supposed to be a simple operation. Hell, the plan could be summarized in a list shorter than the amount of plants that wouldn't injure you in greenhouse three. Through the castle, out the door, wander the grounds, plant the ... CONFIDENTIAL, and done. Of course, life was never always smooth sailing, and luck was apparently not on their side for once.
His energy potions were in full effect, but he still couldn't keep himself from yawning. Yawning led to collapsing - collapsing into sleep, that is - and receiving his first detention.
Historically, Slytherins have had the lowest detention records in Hogwarts history. It wasn't favoritism or anything - they caused no less trouble than anybody else - they were simply better at not getting caught.
He was nothing like James and Sirius, as they seemed to be competing for first place in the Detention House Cup!
James had this "brilliant" idea of planting garlic, pepper and catnip all over the castle to get out of the monthly Potions Tests. There were at least three dozens of cats in Gryffindor alone, never mind the castle. So the Twins had this brilliant idea of making the school even more chaotic than usual. Brilliant.
Note: the readers must read The Potion Tests in a grave and important voice for maximum effect. Cheers, Prongs.
Severus was just feeling grateful for the five hours he got to sleep when Sirius proclaimed the plan in full capital letters. The message had burned bright before vanishing in a small shower of blue sparks.
They were all committed, so backing out of a prank was a 'No! Absolutely not!" type of thing. No matter how busy and tired and/or murderous you are feeling.
When Sirius said that James said plenty of catnip all over the school he really meant all over Scotland. Severus really wanted to kill someone when he saw four floating barrels full of the green product. The four of them had to split up to cover enough grounds to still be able to get up by morning and not act like a zombie drunk on pepper up potions.
Sorry, more like a zombie drunk on potions. O.W.L year was the worst! No time for freaking out, as there were no free periods. Just revision and study.
Thank god for the existence of charms. Floating and otherwise. Like the beautiful totems Severus kept without much of a choice.
There was a sleeping dragon outside (that one shall not tickle), and no one could predict when he would wake up.
There was a dark lord outside leading the mob, wands as pitchforks and green lights for fires. The merits or totems or whatever you had were something leftover from the Aurors, invented and modified because they really need a break from dodging killing curses.
Or it could have just been that James and Sirius were two big show-offs (read: *****)
The Totems were tracking and messaging devices. Four of them in a group. It was impossible to remove by an outside party when put on, and nigh indestructible. James could tell what Sirius was doing in France from all the way in London if he concentrated, unless there was a few powerful wards blocking their magical signatures.
A mighty bit of charms and transfiguration work, but what else would one honestly expect from Charlus Potter anyways? Him being the only person to duel Lord Voldemort and survive. Dumbledore so far just holed himself inside his castle, and left the spell casting to others while still wearing the greatest wizard since Merlin title.
He was getting off track. The messaging system was far better too.
You are leaving the kitchen alone right? The pendant on his wrist blazed amber, words appeared, cool and calm. The signature was a snarling wolf.
Remus threatened them at tooth and nail point to leave the house elves alone. They were a race of simple yet complex people, with powerful magic and stern loyalties. If you are kind to them, they will follow you to whatever end. If not, they'll find some way to make you wish you were never born.
They reminded Remus and Sirius and Severus of how they used to be treated. Alone and unwelcome to some, annoying and desperate to others.
Marauder's Ethic N.5: The house elves matter. Treat them as such, and curse everyone else that says otherwise.
Remus was the one with the full artistic ability between the four, and he often put it into good use. To use magic to make magic.
Severus yawned again as he walked from one end of the castle to the other, forever haunting the sixth and seventh floor of Hogwarts as a large but handsome bat, distributing catnip and pepper shakers to books and crannies, lost in his reverie.
Remus was often the one to design the pranks, to pack the ingredients, to yell at James when he shirked his Charms assignments. He was the one that gave them the more subtle dramatic flair- the opposite of Sirius really, whose drama queen act could be exasperatingly annoying.
He had once turned all of the goblets in the Great Hall into butterflies then ravaging beasts all in one morning simply because of an insult from the Muggle Studies professor.
Remus was the one that added their unique signatures to the four charms. If he didn't, then they would have had to type their initials in after every turn. And you couldn't talk to just one Marauder either, for fear of an uprising (You are keeping secrets from us, you little candle wax! Who gave you that in the first place, you pretty little flower!).
Which meant Severus would often get a night full of James And Sirius' Detention Squabbles.
It was almost like a midnight radio show, his circlet lighting up again and again and again, but he'll slaughter them all if they even thought to take it out into the world.
The twins had been been getting double detentions lately (read: every night), because their current defense teacher was a **** **** **** moron. Only he could put them in separate places after nightfall.
Every Marauder was scared of the dark, and isolation. Though they had very different coping mechanisms.
Severus didn't look where he was going at all.
Severus didn't have anything against Hogwarts personally. He would if he was in Pettigrew or the muggleborn's shoes, but he had friends that would wade through liquid hellfire for him, so he was quite happy, if you can see it. He did find the occasional hex and tripping leg annoying, but he was not going to curse everyone for that.
Though a lot of the portraits and decorations of Hogwarts that no knew when it had been placed should definitely be hexed into oblivion.
Some offered wisdoms and the occasional useful help to the students when they had something interesting to tell in return. But some were annoying and took up space, doing nothing except gossiping and playing with the random objects in their frames.
They used to be great wizards, who invented and discovered great things. Now they just flitted around the halls, searching for gossip and drama. Something Severus felt he would have done if he had turned out differently. Dark and fearful.
Then there was the truly useless and dangerous ones. Like the tree branch like 'things' that completely covered the walls of a classroom that after probably 30 years still smelt like rotten mushrooms. Like the abstract tapestries and charcoal drawings littered around the divination and astronomy classrooms. Wizards disliked abstract art for one reason only- it could literally drive a person insane.
The worst was the 'what the hall is it doing?' ones.
Severus is not a nice person, so he has no qualm of standing in front of a tapestry depicting a barmy wizard trying to teach trolls how to ballet and deciding whether or not to incinerate it or blast it into a million pieces.
He had been getting even less sleep than usual, his eyes are sunken in and thick dark circles are under them. He was a morning person and a night owl, and he always made do with the little hours of sleep since he was six, but he had been staying on energy potions and pepper ups for about a month now. The illusions he used to keep up the facade was collapsing too.
He didn't refute the fact that he didn't want to think. He couldn't do anything against the dark lord outside, with his whispering promises of wealth and power, nor the dark lord inside, with his sweet talks and hefty rewards that people actually believed. He may not like people, but death was something he wished unto no one.
What he really wanted right now, was not to prepare for a totally unneeded prank that could make the castle go into emergency shutdown mode, for the third time this week. What he really wanted, need, is a place to rest. He's been up three days straight writing essays and planning pranks and drawing up revision sheets and trying not to let the recruitment succeed.
Stupid mutts, fawn, and owls that should be cooked into a stew and dumped on Voldemort's head to stop the freakin' war.
James and Sirius almost never study but still got above average grades. They are made up of talent, while Severus is mainly books and research and staying up at night to work under a theory he didn't quite understand. He believed in hard work rather than luck.
Rote.
Now, between the almost weekly pranks of the Marauders, the added pressure of the professors, the growing animosity between the four houses and Slytherin itself, there was almost no time alone for Severus.
He loved the energy filled life he has, but often he wished he could just slow down and just look at life from the sidelines, to see what he could make of it. To plan.
He never stopped.
He'd been compared to time a lot lately. An eternal prince in an eternal castle, unchanging but always moving forward. He thought himself more like a clock. He never stopped, but he knew someday, sooner or later, he would break down, and would never get back up.
He was never alone.
Peace and quiet? Hiding was more like it.
I need a place to hide myself. I want a place of hidden things. I need a place to hide myself. He wished.
And the wish was granted.
In front of the ghastly tapestry, was a spiderweb of an entrance, etched in the smooth wall that disappeared a second ago.
The lines crisscrossed over each other, lines of copper and iron, of silver and gold. Elaborate and beautiful, abstract but still. A simple yet complex thing that could have awed everyone if they even bothered to look.
If you looked, you can see the two enormous R's concealed within the web.
Room of Requirement, or perhaps Rowena Ravenclaw.
His long fingers closed around the enormous brass knocker of the spiderweb. He hesitated for just a wuick second, then he scoffed at himself and went inside.
He had been expecting something cozy and small. Of a warm fireplace and comfy couches with fluffy pillows that he could sank into and never leave. A room he could hide from the world.
Instead, he found the room of things hidden from the world. Things that never expected to see the light evermore.
Towers upon towers of secrets. Of antique chairs and desks, of broken brooms and fake fake gemstones, of tapestries depicting long extinct families and of wands that once belonged power but forgotten wizards.
Layers upon layers of dust, of magic charging up in the air, of secrets suffocating the very thought of opening them.
The Room of Hidden Things.
Severus wondered and wandered, momentarily forgetting his sleepiness and his thoughts of revenge for a clearer head to look at the history and the past of wizards generations before him.
He was almost disappointed to find almost nothing of value, be it money or knowledge, in this enormous room. Junk and yellowed paper with blotched words. Paintings of beautiful things long faded out of color.
Deep in the almost never-ending room, hidden and clustered together, were the family tapestries.
Perhaps Hogwarts used to be full of tapestries of wizarding families? To keep track of who was where - who would or had attended the school, who was six feet under so one could pay their respects. Of course … making important families important.
All of that was gone. The tapestries that could tell a family's history just by being there, the heirlooms with their expensive gems.
All frayed and cracked and broken and locked inside the hidden room. All of that was gone, kept here to avoid being burnt by the new ministry policies perhaps. The only ones left to be seen by the 'world' were probably in family mansion drawing rooms.
History should never be forgotten.
Severus slowed his stepped then,and counted.
There was the Black's tapestry, with their grey eyes and blue tinged hair, the stitches frayed at the ends of the cloth. He saw the wild haired Bellatrix grin wildly, the shy Andromeda smile, the firm Walburga Black nod. All to him, the family magics through the ages were strong and wild in a room made up of magic. Growing and updating with each new blood.
He could see Malfoys, with their moonlight hair and cold eyes, sneering soundlessly at the Potters at their opposite, who were almost all messy haired and bespectacled. He saw the Parkinson's, their thick bobs hiding the malice in their eyes. There was the Goyle's, sometimes overly thick, sometimes too thin.
There was the Weasley's, the woven ginger hair and freckles shining even in the dim light, sticking out their tongue at the Diggory's.
All of them, together, light and dark, bright and dim. Magic as magic should be. One.
He didn't bother go looking for the Prince's, he had seen it enough times in the family library. His name, which was beneath his mother's name - right next to hers a blotched spot belonging to Tobias Snape. The muggle's name was burnt off, leaving only the letter 'T' behind.
As he walked further, he found Merlin's tree, an enormous spiderweb full of fantastical characters with shining armor and sharp swords, connected through blood and chivalry and war.
Merlin was thought to be in Slytherin, not that anyone cared about that particular detail, eh?
After the almost-god wizard was the four founders. Gryffindor, a man with a big smile that showed all of his teeth and the clearest blue eyes bent into crescent moons. A man of bravery, of the chivalry continued from lion to lion. From the maned House Master, to the messy haired little boy.
Ravenclaw, with her bright mind and acute angles, appeared to have broken into the lines of Malfoy and Mcgonagall. Rowena had a son and a daughter. The boy died when he was only eighteen, just barely old enough to hold his newborn infant daughter. Ravenclaw's daughter disappeared, and she spiraled into madness and depression and her once brilliant mind.
He died young, as the best people do.
Kind and joyful Hufflepuff ended with a big fat woman swathed in every shade of pink called Heph-something Smith. How did the most powerful healer that ever existed have a descendant that seemed to be overindulging on cake even in the tapestry?
The declination of powerful families scared him. While Ravenclaw's fair blood may still have been in continuation, Gryffindor's line may still be brash, Hufflepuff's kin may still have that shred of kindness left in them…
Slytherin was the one that scared him the most.
He was not the endlessly portrayed shabby old man with the evil cackle and the sinister cackle. He was just a man, barely over thirty, with pure silver hair and burnt gold eyes.
Not handsome, not with Gryffindor's grin that could light up a room. Not with Ravenclaw's wink that could brighten a mind. Not with Hufflepuff's smile that could charm away your ailment. He was nothing like Merlin, whose twinkling eyes and speckled beard that could make you believe so many things.
Slytherin was eternal.
Beautiful was the right word for Slytherin, not handsome, or hot, or anything description like that. He was beautiful in the way an angel was beautiful. Perfect, remote, and eternal, like time. Yet unlike time, Slytherin stopped.
His line descended erratically, the branches blackened and withered, with the last recorded Slytherin becoming a Gaunt. That family tree's branches went from half buried in the ground, to be full of shadowed leaves by the last name. Merope Gaunt married a muggle, and thus saved Slytherin.
New blood, new magic.
The last heir was named Tom Marvolo Riddle, and beside the glowing name was an initial forcefully carved into the fabric by a sharp knife.
LV.
The last heir was named Tom Marvolo Riddle, and beside the glowing name were initials forcefully carven into the fabric by a sharp knife.
It seemed he also found it. And why couldn't he? Someone so powerful and mighty that sought to change the wizarding world around him?
A serpent's child with an ironwood heart.
What was astonishing were the two burnt patches next to the Dark Lord's name. One where the wife would reside, the other where the child should be.
The Dark Lord Voldemort had a child? With whom?
He would settle nothing else other than pureblood of course, but there were so many brilliant woman out there that could fit into that category the search would become almost meaningless. Besides, a blasted head never meant well. Disgraced or abandoned.
He shrugged and forced the thoughts away. Right now, more than anything, he needed to find a place to sleep. He would rather plop down here than go back through the door and wish for another place. Even if he could get lost in this maze.
He shuddered to think what would happen if James somehow got in here, a Gryffindor that could get lost in his own common room. (He did. Far too often.)
Still, the Dark Lord had a son. For the first born son always had the closest place to his father. The daughter would always take second place, whether she's the first born or the only heir.
He hadn't slept for three days, hadn't eaten for two. He had pulled his magic bit by bit to fuel his facade. He couldn't look mortal because of those who needed him. Frightened by the dark man outside and the scary students inside. Wands as pitch forks and cruel lights as torches.
He don't like change, so they looked to someone that remained eternal. At least to their little eyes and innocent hearts.
Severus wanted to sleep.
So he did.
He collapsed onto the dusty floor, and closed his eyes.
What he didn't know, was that after his breaths evened out, the supposedly unmovable head of Tom Riddle moved, and disappeared. Seconds later, the tapestry itself had fallen from it's hold. The floor is cold, the Slytherins mused together, and not a place for a prince.
Lord Voldemort was not the only name carved onto the tapestry.
Severus disappeared from school for a week, but his notes were taken and his homework completed and handed in, written in his own handwriting.
James did not like to think, but that did not mean he was unaware on how to.
Sometimes, Severus is more like a Gryffindor than any Slytherin.
The Marauders will be above average in terms of magic but they are teenagers for Merlin's sake so they won't be like light lord and dark lord and magical flames and such. There is no such thing as obvious plot points! As I've said, Raven's Flight is light, it's designed to make you laugh and think what the hell are we doing. The sequel is anything but.
Pay attention to detail, is my advice to all of you reading.
Review please!