“First year, First year, what are you doing here? First year, First year, you should run in fear,” I sang out, waiting for the child to run from me. Ever since I can remember, people and ghosts alike have avoided my presence. I was shocked when the child, shaking slightly, did not shift its position. It held out a letter enclosed in its tiny fingers. I grabbed the letter and the child scampered out of sight.
On the envelope, I could just make out, “Mr. Peeves” in cramped, slanted writing. A letter for me? My heart swelled with hope, but who would have written to me? It must be a joke from the students. A sudden yearning to read the letter came over me. I rushed down the hallway, looking for a reader. Where were the students when you needed them?
I almost flew straight into a boy on his way to the loo. “Get out of it Peeves!” he yelled at me, judging my intentions unfairly.
“Read this to me,” I said. All he did was look at me skeptically. “I’ll… I won’t play any pranks on you for a month.” He still made no move towards the letter. “Not for a year,” I declared, “None of your friends either.” I added almost pleadingly.
He finally grabbed the letter from my clutches. He read in a clear voice,
“Irresistible lure,
Custom-built prize,
Awaits the doer
Who makes it in time.
Just for you,
Was this treasure made,
Collect the clues,
And survive the maze.
If you can name it,
This thing with danger bought,
Then you can claim it,
But don’t get caught.
Outside the doors
At ten tonight
With skills yours
Your glory will shine bright.”
My confusion must have shown, because he continued. “It’s a maze. You’re invited to participate in a maze. There is some sort of prize, it’s not clear. At ten tonight, you are supposed to go outside…”
The paper burst into flames, singeing his robes. He shot me an angry look and dropped the ashes on the ground. For once, I didn’t bother to cackle at the physical pain.
My head was filled with thoughts of lifting a trophy, quite like the Triwizard cup, above my head and shoving it in the faces of all those who never believed in me. This would be my one chance to prove myself. I flew down the hallway, excitement making me mischievous.
Nothing could calm my anxiety. In just a few hours, I would be entering the maze. Winning this maze would prove to everyone that I belonged at this castle and that I deserved a right to stay.
Those hours of waiting felt like many sunlit days. When there was a mere fifteen minutes before ten, I was speeding down an empty corridor. The children were all in their dormitories, so when I heard raised voices, I rushed to investigate. In the middle of a stairwell stood Professor Dumbledore and that vile teacher, Snape.
With a very quiet pop I became invisible. Neither of them looked up from their heated argument. “Professor,” Snape dragged out the word, “you can’t expect me to compete with them. It would be a mockery of my skills.”
“Now, now, Severus,” Dumbledore spoke in a calm controlled voice. “It would be quite a learning experience…”
“I am a teacher, not a student. I have nothing to gain from entering,” Snape retorted.
“Aah, that is where you are mistaken, Severus.” Dumbledore said, “There is much you can gain from entering.” There was a quiet wheezing sound from one of the tapestries behind them. “Severus, you will compete in the maze,” Dumbledore’s statement was absolute. Snape looked like he was going to interject, but in walked a small fourth year.
“Good evening Miss Lovegood. I am glad you could make it.” Dumbledore was not at all taken aback by this nighttime wandering. “Now that all our contestants are present,” Luna gave a slight nod of her head, but Snape looked incredulous.
“My only competitor is Miss Lovegood?” he asked.
“Oh no, no” Dumbledore chuckled. “Come out all of you, I know you are here.”
Very slowly, I watched as the form of a ghost appeared in mid-air a few steps below where Snape and Dumbledore stood. The ghost had blood stains covering its midriff. I gasped, I was competing against the Bloody Baron? With a pop, I appeared grim faced next to Snape. Dumbledore nodded his head towards me in a sign of greeting.
“Dumbledore-” Snape started.
“There is still one of us who has not made his presence known,” Dumbledore gazed at a painting. “Argus, come out now, the competition cannot start without you.”
With a creak, the painting behind Dumbledore swung open to reveal Argus Filch. That was the one man who I truly loathed. As we glared at one another, Dumbledore stepped between us.
“Welcome to The Gauntlet, Hogwart’s first ever intra-school maze. If you would just follow me, we will be meeting our last contestant in the Entrance Hall.” Dumbledore spoke with a determined calm. His statement hinted a bit of sadness.
We trooped into the great hall. The small fourth year girl, I thought her name was Luna, was the only one speaking. “This is very interesting, isn’t it? I wonder why I was chosen. I’m not very good at magic, though I can write quite well. I am going to be editor for the Quibbler when I leave school.”
No one bothered to respond. When we reached the entrance hall, there stood a centaur with a hoof mark on its chest. He had white-blonde hair and a very light brown body. He stood proudly erect, waiting for us to arrive.
Dumbledore, with the help of Filch, threw open the castle doors. Awaiting us was a golden archway leading to hedges upon hedges as far as the eye could see. Written on the golden archway were the words, ‘Enter if you dare, but dare only return if you have won.’
Dumbledore stepped in front of the golden archway. He raised his hands from his pockets, and drew out six pure white pebbles. He handed one to each of us. When I grasped mine in my palm, it slowly turned to a dark grey color. I looked over at my competitors. Snape and Filch had already hidden theirs deep down in their robes. The Bloody Baron was holding a stone which had become black and transparent.
Dumbledore started to speak. “These stones are your guides throughout the maze. They will inform you of how you are doing and how close you are getting to your goal. They are also your communication devices between one another. Good luck.”
Dumbledore spread his arms, welcoming us to begin. Before any of us could utter a word, he was gone. We walked hesitantly through the archway. There were five openings to the maze. I hurried to claim my own path. As I glided to the path on the far right, I watched the others from the corner of my eye. I couldn’t see the Bloody Baron, so I assumed he was already gliding down another path. Luna was strolling along amiably, while Snape tried to keep a dubious look on his face. Filch was hurrying up the path next to mine. I had a nagging feeling that he was competing in the maze for the same reason as me. He wanted to prove himself as much as I did.
I hurried down the path I had chosen, and soon the others were out of sight. I decided to gaze over the top of the hedge rows. Hedges continued as far as the eye could see. I did not see any ending point or shining trophy. I watched as Snape hurried along his path; he did want to win after all.
After flying for about an hour, I became weary. This was quite dull. Every hedge started to look the same after a while. I looked over the hedges once again. I could see Firenze trotting off ahead of me. He seemed to have come to a sort of clearing.
I attempted to fly over the hedge row, but I was rebuffed. I ricocheted off the invisible barrier and landed in the dirt. I picked myself up, thoroughly annoyed now. As I glided further and further through the maze, my excitement and hope was slowly being diminished. I finally came to a fork in the path. Willing myself to peak over the hedges, I saw trees further along the left path. That would be a nice change to the never ending shrubbery.
I sang out in a burst of excitement, “Peevsey Weevsey’s gonna win, Peevsey Weevsey -”
“- has a big chin,” someone finished in a sing-song voice.
I whirled around. Luna was coming slowly closer. “What are you doing here?” I shrieked.
“Walking,” she answered simply.
“Well, walk the other way!” I retorted. She turned around and walked away. I laughed, children in this school really needed to learn to stand up for themselves.
I finally reached the place where hedges gave way to trees. Privet and Yew trees lined the edge of a garden. The trees formed an impenetrable hedge. They did not feel as caged, oppressive, and closed as the rest of the maze had.
The dirt path below me had changed to brick when I entered the garden. There was grass of varying shapes and hues, while the odd Geranium and Daisy could be seen growing between bricks. A small path branched off to the left, where there was a clearly discernible patch of orange pumpkins.
Both paths seemed to lead to dead ends. There was, however, a large stone bench at the end of the main path. I made my way along the path, but I was suddenly struck with a bout of violent sneezing. Sitting just below my feet were small, seemingly harmless plants swaying innocently in the wind. I was absolutely sure this was sneezewort. I pocketed some to use for future tricks and pranks.
I passed ginger and valerian roots as quickly as I could before I stopped at the stone bench. Many jars and containers of dried roots and plants lined the far end of the table and a small sack was sitting close to the Mimbulus Mimbletonia to the left, but in the middle sat a small Dragon-Leather notebook. I opened it cautiously to the first page.
Before my eyes were was an immense amount of letters. They made no sense to me. I sat on the stone bench deliberating. There was a picture on the page. It showed a baby with leaves coming out of its head. The baby seemed to be screaming. I remember watching a Herbology lesson once a long time ago when things like that had interested me.
I found leaves in the garden that matched the picture in the book. I grasped the leaves, clutching them, ready to pull, until I remembered the sound that had pierced my ears when they were free of the soil. I let go quickly. I hated to admit it, but I needed help. I removed my stone from my pocket, and called “Severus Snape” clearly into it. I cringed at the sound of my own voice. I reminded myself that it was necessary or I would sit here deliberating forever. Once Snape helped me, we would split up and become competitors once again.
There was a pop and in front of me stood a hulking figure. “What, Where am I?” Snape asked, his back towards me. He turned around, “What is this?”
“I need your help. And, you’re going to help me, if you want this” I held up the notebook, challenging him to interject.
Snape snatched it from my hand. He read it quickly and started gazing around for the correct plants. In a matter of minutes, he had three plants piled on the table. One was slimy, grey, and smelling of fish. The other was some type of herb with five leaves. The last was a plant with many red buds that looked like shriveled fingers.
Snape started to scribble in the notebook. “You are going to share that with me,” I commanded.
“Why should I? I haven’t seen you do any work in this clearing” Snape riposted.
“If you don’t, I will pull this from the ground. And do you know what happens then? You lose your hearing, while I continue on with little or no discomfort whatsoever.” I smiled, pleased with my little monologue. I grasped the Mandrake root, ready to give it a sharp pull.
“Fine,” Snape hissed, anger contorting his face. “Come here, and copy this,” he drew an ‘o’. “You have to help write the names of the aconites, or the door will not allow you to pass.”
Snape and I finished writing the names of the aconites, and he slammed the book shut. Ahead of us a door appeared. The door was comprised of swirling beads which opened to reveal a hole just large enough for me to fly through.
I did not stop to see if Snape had made it through the door, but plunged on. The wind was rushing through my hair, and the thrill of the maze made me giddy once more. I rushed down the row of hedges until I came to a place where the path turned right. I hesitated, and then plunged on. I heard a growl and heavy panting. I raised my head slowly, fearful of what I might find.
Ahead of me stood a twelve foot tall, hideous mountain troll. It smelled of rotten eggs and dirty sewers. It had grey skin, and fat oozing from beneath its simple vest and vast shorts. It looked up at me; its dull eyes seemed to be having trouble focusing on me. It was padlocked to the edge of the path; the only way onwards was surpassing it.
“I…eat…pumpkin,” it said, pointing a stubby finger at me. It raised its hand and grabbed for my head. I dove out of the way, its hand missing me by mere inches. One of its shoulders seemed to droop from the weight of carrying a wooden club. I attempted to fly over this shoulder, but he swatted me down like a wizard would swat a fly. I turned invisible and attempted to bypass him once again. He jumped up and I rebounded off his stomach. It seemed that trolls had better hearing then I thought.
I backed up a couple of steps out of the troll’s reach. I grasped inside my pockets for anything that would help me leave behind this beast. Out of my pockets came sneezewort, Dr. Filibuster fireworks, an old fanged Frisbee, and a couple of Dungbombs. My mind worked quickly, devising a scheme to get me out of this mess. Using one hand, I pinched the bottom of a dungbomb. Working very carefully, lest I be knocked out by the smell of the dungbomb, I opened the brown outer packaging and poured in the sneezewort. I quickly sealed the package, and waited for the right opportunity to throw it.
As I raised my hand to toss the dungbomb, I heard a moan from near the troll’s feet. “Noo,” a voice pleaded. I looked behind the troll’s horned feet and saw the body of a horse badly slashed and bleeding. I lowered the dungbomb, and peered down as close as I could get without being clubbed. There lay Firenze. His face was chalk white, and he was shaking from head to foot.
I raised the dung bomb in my hand and threw with all my might. “Aargh!” the troll howled. I slid between the troll’s legs while he still was unable to see. I grabbed Firenze and attempted to drag him out of the troll’s reach. We were mere feet away from the troll when the sneezing started. The troll sneezed, and his whole body convulsed. He kicked out his leg, catching me in the chest. I was completely winded.
“Stone, get stone,” I choked. Firenze lay motionless with his blonde hair in the grass. With all my might, I heaved and pulled him out of harm’s way. I withdrew my stone, which was now a light shade of grey, and called “Dumbledore, Albus Dumbledore.” Firenze was dying and he needed help right away. Nothing happened. I screamed with rage. With a soft click, Firenze disappeared into nothingness.
I tried to lift myself from the ground. Despite my objection, I could not help feeling a bit remorseful. He had done nothing wrong, just entered a maze with hopes and dreams of his own. Now he had nothing.
I needed to continue, or I would perish here beside Firenze. The maze no longer seemed cheerful and jaunty. I no longer sang poems to pass the time. I drifted until the hedges started to darken.
I felt a chill in the air. The wind whipped my clothes and my eyes watered. The path turned black and I could feel shadows moving about me. They were coming ever closer, inhabiting my body.
Memories floated to the surface of my mind, awful, painful memories. It felt the hard stones of the entrance hall below my feet. Students cheered me on and I could feel my face grin in a weak resigned sort of way. I fought hard to escape this memory. Despite my attempts to break free, my body continued to grin and I started to walk forward. Terror clutched at my heart as I watched the Bloody Baron round the corner. I had known he would come, and I dreaded what would happen next.
I staggered up to the Bloody Baron. “How… how did you get those, those bloodstains?” I faltered. The students had put me up to it, and I wasn’t one to put down a dare. He reached out his fingers as though to clasp my neck, but he put his hand on my forehead. I shuddered. It was cold as I had only ever felt once before, torture. As sweat poured down my forehead, my vision shifted. Last time this had happened, I had watched the Bloody Baron’s violent death.
But this time, the wizard who I had watched stab the Bloody Baron was descending on me. He held down my arms and I felt the warmth of his body next to mine. I screamed for help or mercy. I screamed until I couldn’t find breath to utter another word. The wizard got bored of my shrieking. He held the knife to my neck, just close enough to allow a drop of blood to trickle off.
“One word, one more word,” he threatened. I continued writhing, though silently now. My mouth did not utter a word as the wizard chose his spot and raised his knife. I watched his face contort in rage, and his muscles tighten around the knife.
I opened my mouth and shouted the first word that came to my mind, “Expelliarmus!” I had no wand and no power, but the wizard flew into the air, and shattered into a million pieces. Ashes rained down from the sky, floating like snow flakes during the first snow fall.
I started to choke, my throat clogged on the ash, and my body shivering from the trauma. I lay down on my back, chest heaving and fell promptly to sleep. I woke a little later and gazed down the dark path, I was no longer trapped in my memories. I had returned to the maze. In front of me floated the Bloody Baron. I thought blearily that it was an apparition, but after rubbing my eyes thoroughly, he remained.
“I’m sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean,” I didn’t know what I was trying to say. I rubbed my neck guiltily and realized that my neck was quite whole. There was no blood, no cut, no scar.
I was sure that the Baron was going to hurt me. Instead, he floated above a log that lay a little to the side of the path. “You spoke. You did what I never could. You defeated him,” the Bloody Baron whispered.
It was the first time I had ever heard him talk. It was an odd sensation. I had never imagined him talking or even thinking before. I was unsettled. “What was that thing?” I questioned.
“That? That was a Boggart, a shape shifter who takes on the appearance of your biggest fear. Your biggest fear was suffering my death. You defeated him by doing the one thing I couldn’t do when he faced me. You screamed out, you defied him,” the Bloody Baron’s voice was getting steadily louder as he learned to use it once again.
As we sat together, the shape of a plump witch immerged from the shadows. I jumped. “That’s not…”
“No, I think that’s a real woman,” the Bloody Baron responded, turning invisible with a quick pop.
Professor Sprout emerged wearing her patched hat and brown robes. “Come with me, Peeves,” she grabbed my ear, “I heard about your prank on Professor Umbridge, and we’re going to the headmaster.”
Filch will be pleased with this situation, I thought. “What did I do?” I asked. I needed to find out how much she knew.
“You know very well what you did. A Kneazle in her office, I ask you. Now, if it had been any other teacher… but…” she seemed to be muttering to herself.
I chuckled, but quickly turned my face into one of remorse. “What happened?” My voice portrayed unreal concern. “She just seemed so lonely and I started to think that she really deserved a pet for all her hard work around here,” I said.
Professor Sprout seemed to be thinking this over, so I continued. “I mean, Dumbledore’s got Fawkes, and Filch has Mrs. Norris.” I refrained from calling Mrs. Norris a whole load of other names.
“Also,” I continued a little more slyly, as though giving away a big secret, “I think if she had a pet, it would get her off our backs a little bit, don’t you think?”
I warned her, “You should be careful about telling anyone about how the Kneazle reacted to her.”
“How do you know how it…” Professor Sprout started.
I cut her off. “Kneazles are keen on everyone other than liars and cheats. You could start some nasty accusations,” I said.
“Very well Peeves. Next time I would prefer if you asked her preference before placing pets in her office.” I nodded. As she apparated out of the maze, I laughed at her retreating back. This maze could turn out to be fun after all.
Suddenly, I was hurled head first into darkness. I was relieved to hear the Bloody Baron’s angry grunt as he landed beside me. Golden words began to shine in the darkness. An awful voice, deep and low came rumbling at us from all directions.
“Mr. Peeves and Mr. Baron,
You are very close to achieving your goal,
Just a bit further, stay under control,
Starts at the center of labyrinth,
Ends at the third of Corinth.
With the invisible ink's bane,
Secret messages I will gain.”
The voice faded away, though the darkness never lifted. I rose off the ground and attempted to make my way out of the darkness. I walked through a cold sheet of water.
“Excuse me, that’s quite uncomfortable,” the Bloody Baron said. I managed to extract myself from the Bloody Baron, and suddenly the darkness lifted. He must have been some kind of portal, because after that we were standing on the top of a rocky mountain.
I assumed that this must be the third of Corinth. I thought about the other half of the poem. Invisible ink’s bane… It was something about invisible ink and secret messages. I gazed down the mountain side. There lay two beds, side by side. One was small and the other large, though they were both musty and aged.
I flew down beside it, and was about to look for hidden messages, when the Bloody Baron called out, “Don’t touch the bed,” his voice was calm yet firm.
“Did you know that ghosts have the power to reveal invisible ink?” he asked. He lay down on the longer bed. Before I knew it, he was writhing and shrieking. The ghostly form of his body seemed to be stretching. He let out a horrific shriek before everything went still. I had no idea what to do or what to say. A grin flitted across my face, though I subdued it immediately.
Slowly, he raised himself off the bed. He groaned with the effort. He swore under his breath as words slowly appeared in black ink covering the bed. “What does it say?” I asked impatiently.
“Good try, you’re on your way, another bed you’ll have to lay,” the Bloody Baron cursed. As though he read my thoughts he said, “That thing will skin you alive. I will lay on the other bed.”
I stammered an offer. He tried to put on a brave smile. “I can’t die twice, now can I?” Before anything else was said, he lay down stiffly on the smaller bed. His screams were multiplied as they ricocheted off the mountainside. When it was over, he simply slid off the bed and lay panting and gasping on the ground.
As he regained his breath, the deep haunting voice from the darkness spoke again;
“My single eye had sought to see much more,
The roundness of my back was no mere infection.
In death my memory guards a passage to nectar's door,
In life I cured those with firebeast's affliction.”
I started to ponder. It was a dead witch or wizard with one eye who guards nectar’s door and when living cured firebeast’s affliction. What could that mean? It must be a ghost, and who better to ask then my ghost companion? “Do you know any ghosts with only one eye?” I asked.
“Actually,” he spoke slowly, deliberating every word. “There is Harold…”
“Who’s Harold?” I asked excitedly. This maze had turned into a quite exciting scavenger hunt. I couldn’t help but to think about Firenze and where he was now.
“He was a Saxon king, one of the last. He took an arrow to the eye from William of Normandy. He died a couple of years before I did. We have not spoken in a long time,” the Bloody Baron spoke. “Actually, besides Eadgyth, you are the only one I have spoken to in about seven-hundred years,”
“Where can we find him?”
The Bloody Baron responded, “I have an idea.”
Ghosts and poltergeists cannot usually apparate, but together the Baron and I could go wherever we pleased. I believe this was because of the power of the maze. After a very chilly trip, we landed in a swamp. Ahead of us was a padlocked gate that we could not enter despite our efforts. We heard a gale of laughter. It was not happy laughter, but cruel and hurtful. It sent chills down my spine and my heart was pulsating with fear.
I knocked on the hard metal, trying to attract someone’s attention. An arrow approached, closely followed by the body of a male ghost. There was an arrow lodged deep into the ghost’s eye, making a lopsided appearance. His face was a bloody mess, but despite that, he wore a conceited grin. “Good evening Mr. Baron, and to what do I owe this, uh, pleasant surprise?” he inquired.
The Baron’s gaze wondered aimlessly, seemingly uninterested. “Hello sir, I am Peeves. We were just wondering if we could have the next…” The Baron started to shake his head, warning me to say no more. “Could we come in? It has been a long journey, and we still have a long way to go.”
Without waiting for a response, the Baron pushed his way through. I watched as he let out a gasp of utter disbelief. King Harold’s face shown with embarrassment. Ahead of us, in an oval size field, lay a woman. She had pale pearly white skin and bruises covering her arms and face.
“I’m so sorry you had to see that. Eadgyth and I were just having some, uh, fun,” he murmured. “Eadgyth, go into the backroom, I’ll meet you there soon.”
I then realized who this Eadgyth must be. The Baron’s Eadgyth. As the woman raised her head, her long white hair was swept out of her eyes. Her eyes shown almost as though she still had life within them. She started to sing,
“People like me turns lead to gold,
Mystic cures, my craft unfold.
I start nowhere and end well,
My name is an easy one to tell.”
Her eyes were glued to the Baron’s and her voice sailed like a ship in high winds. King Harold looked confusedly between them. “Eadgyth, go now!” he commanded. She slunk away into a high box at the top of the stands. He apologized to us profusely and offered to let us stay the night. The Baron did not move. Although we were weary, he reminded me we needed to continue with our mission.
That night, I heard the clangs and bangs of metal on metal as the king locked us in. When all was quiet, we sailed over the Queerditch Marsh to the box where we had watched Eadgyth disappear.
“I knew you would come,” she said.
“I brought help,” the Baron said, pointing towards me. She nodded once.
“I do not know how we can escape without arousing him,” she whispered.
“I have an idea. Follow me,” I spoke, excited. I love secret plans. They trailed behind me as I led them to the giant metal doors. I took two of my Filibuster Fireworks out from my pocket and lit the ends.
“Quiet,” the Baron hissed. Too late. The fireworks exploded, blasting open the metal doors. We ran for it. I was too afraid to turn around, too afraid of what I might see behind me. After traveling for what felt like hours, Eadgyth collapsed at the side of a forest path. We looked around, and it seemed that we had evaded King Harold for now.
“We aren’t safe here,” she said.
“The last will come first here.
Covers your head when it's rainy!
Strange chants reaches my ear,
Thus add the holy men of the abbey,” she sang once again in her lovely voice.
“We need to get her to Hogwarts. She’s weak,” the Baron proclaimed.
“I’m fine. You haven’t stopped coddling me since my death so many years ago,” she snapped.
We all grasped hands and we started to spin towards Hogwarts. Inside the castle, we met the Fat Friar and the Grey Lady. They told us we needed to return to the maze. (Dumbledore’s orders)
Before we left, the Baron looked Eadgyth in the eye and proclaimed, “I love you too.”
“You understood the poem,” she murmured. He nodded. They gazed at each other and then at the same moment, raised their lips to one another and kissed. I felt an odd emotion near my midriff. If there was such thing as love, this was it. Kissing your loved one, despite them being unable to feel it.
KC (sayiansirius) thank you so much for being a wonderful beta! You were great.