Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.
Chapter 11
The Vanishing Cabinet
The first weekend back at school passed pleasantly enough. While Hermione complained of having so much research to complete, Harry found that an occasional check on the mirror did not take up much of his time “ particularly since he was not having much success with it. The mirror just sat in the bottom of his drawer dumbly.
Finding Ron at similar loose ends on Saturday, they wandered down to the Quidditch pitch. Ginny had posted an announcement that tryouts for the Gryffindor team would be held next Saturday so the field was full of hopefuls. There was a definite nip in the air but the sunny conditions made it an ideal day for flying.
Ginny caught up with them in mid-air and admonished, “You know that everyone is going to think that you are both trying out for the team!”
“Can’t help what funny notions other people take into their heads,” replied Ron airily.
“I’m just enjoying the perfect flying conditions,” Harry answered honestly.
But their enjoyment was cut short when a bitter wind started in late afternoon and drove everyone back indoors. They met Neville on the staircase, trying to wipe off the mud from his lion amulet so that he could gain access to their common room. Even after removing his gardening gloves, his hands were still so grimy that he was getting nowhere.
“Here, let me,” offered Harry as he removed his wand from his back pocket. Scourgify, he intoned mentally as he pointed it at Neville’s chest. A small mountain of dirt and mulch appeared magically on the stairs at Neville’s feet followed almost immediately by the sound of shifting stones.
Shaking his head ruefully, Harry urged Ron and Neville forward. “I’ll call one of the house-elves to take care of this before Hermione sees it,” he promised.
Harry was surprised when Hermione had not returned before they went to bed that night. In his boredom, he kept checking on the mirror but nothing had changed. Frustrated dreams followed long into the night where Draco Malfoy alternately whooped with joy and then laughed maniacally.
Harry finally ran into Hermione the next day as she was returning from the library with her arms full of reference books.
“How would I go about requesting a minute with the headmistress?” he implored. “There’s something I need to ask her.”
“Well, she’s generally pretty busy these days,” Hermione began. Then reading Harry’s determined expression, she added, “It’s not something Lupin could help you with, is it?”
“I don’t really think so,” Harry explained. “Anyway, my appointment with him is not ‘til late in the week and I don’t think this should wait until then.”
Collapsing gratefully into a chair by the roaring fire, she turned to Harry and suggested, “I’m scheduled to help with the cataloging of the library on Monday at ten. Why don’t you go a few minutes ahead so you can see her briefly before I arrive? Would that give you enough time?”
Well, that depends on the answer to my question, Harry thought to himself, but agreed to Hermione’s suggestion nonetheless.
Harry awoke from a deep sleep on Monday to find that Hermione was already dressed in her school robes and was shaking him vigorously.
“I didn’t think that girls were allowed in the boys rooms,” he mumbled groggily as he reached for his glasses.
“Lucky for you there seems to be an emergency override! Do you realize that it’s already past nine? Surely you didn’t forget that you were going to proceed me to the headmistress’ office today, did you?”
Harry hastily shook the last vestiges of sleep from his head. He was about to jump out of bed but found that he was pinned by the way that Hermione was sitting on the blankets.
“Give me a moment to get out of the room first,” she implored as she colored slightly in embarrassment. “I wouldn’t want the room sensors to misread my intentions. You do remember the password I gave you last night, don’t you?” At Harry’s blank expression, she whispered, “Glencoe.”
She caught Harry’s arm as he fumbled for the notepad that he kept on his nightstand.
“You can’t write it down,” Hermione reproached him. “Remember what happened when Neville made a password list?”
Harry concluded wryly that there had been enough breaches of school security without him unwittingly creating another.
After showering in record time, Harry took a few shortcuts he remembered from the Marauder’s Map to arrive outside the headmistress’ office. As he approached the stone gargoyle, he realized with dismay that he could not remember the bloody password.
Think, he commanded himself inwardly, think! Hermione just told you less than an hour ago! All he could recall was that it was a town in Scotland. Improvising, he began, “Glasgow…Edinburgh…Inverness…Aberdeen…Dundee…Fort William.”
None had any effect on the gargoyle. He was about to try Orkney when he remembered that was the name of an island. Realizing that he had exhausted his complete repertoire of Scottish geography, Harry sank down on the pedestal at the gargoyle’s feet and buried his face in his hands.
“What do we have here? Could it be Potty?” declared the sing-song voice of Peeves, the poltergeist.
Harry looked up to find Peeves’ unwelcome form hovering hear the ceiling, giggling wickedly as he casually tossed a small object from one spectral hand to another.
What next? thought Harry as he searched his memory for the one incantation that was guaranteed to drive away Peeves and his interminable practical jokes. Lupin had taught it to the third-years as part of the Dark Arts curriculum; that much he remembered clearly. Was it waddi-willy, willi-nilly, silli-willy, or just something similar? Harry could not recall.
Suddenly, a loud “meow” was heard and a furry orange body launched itself around the corner and into the middle of the corridor. It hissed menacingly at Peeves who suddenly decided he had a pressing appointment in another wing of the castle.
“Crookshanks, I sure am glad to see you,” Harry spoke in a soothing tone as the large cat wound his body around Harry’s legs and began to purr. “I don’t suppose you know the headmistress’ password, do you?”
Harry had to admit that he felt silly talking to a cat but it was probably no worse than carrying on a conversation with an unearthly manifestation such as Peeves “ and the cat was definitely the better mannered of the two.
Crookshanks’ attention was diverted by a small movement outside the nearby window. With a swish of his tail, he bounded onto the sill and disappeared gracefully along the stone ledge.
Moments later, the sound of stone upon stone indicated that the staircase to the office was turning. Harry jumped to his feet seconds before the gargoyle statue leapt aside to allow Professor McGonagall into the corridor.
Catching sight of Harry, she said, “I thought I heard someone out here. Do you need to see me, Harry? I have a few minutes before my next appointment.”
The circular office was much as Harry remembered from his last visit. Among the portraits of the former headmasters and headmistresses that lined the walls, the image of Dumbledore still seemed to be enjoying a peaceful nap. The morning sun had bathed the entire room in a golden glow that showed pile upon pile of leather bound books covering much of the floor area.
“Please excuse the mess,” McGonagall offered as she escorted Harry to the visitor’s chair. “Cataloging Dumbledore’s private library has turned out to be a larger undertaking than we first expected. Turns out that many of the shelves had been packed two and three volumes deep.” Sweeping her long skirts under her, she sat behind the gleaming desk and turned to face Harry expectantly.
“Well, you see, Headmistress,” Harry began haltingly, “I’ve recently been studying twin magical objects in my lessons with Professor Lupin. As you recall, last year’s attack on the school was made possible by a discarded Vanishing Cabinet that turned out to be part of a twin set. Whatever became of that Vanishing Cabinet, might I ask?”
McGonagall considered her options briefly before replying, “We have not been able to locate it. Or rather, we have not been able to gain access to the Room of Requirement where it had been secreted by Mr. Malfoy.”
Harry looked up and smiled, “I believe I have worked out how to do so.”
Nearly speechless, the headmistress could only nod in reply. Consulting her desk calendar briefly, she suggested, “Can you meet me in the seventh floor corridor around two o’clock this afternoon? Good, I will bring Professor Flitwick who is an expert on charms and jinxes to assist us.”
“I’ll see if Hagrid can come, too; he may be better at lifting heavy objects,” Harry added helpfully. “That is, if he has a free period at that time.”
The headmistress glanced at her calendar once again before assenting, “I believe he does at that.”
Having missed breakfast that morning, Harry grabbed a quick lunch just as soon as it was served in the Great Hall. Working his way down the grassy slope to Hagrid’s cabin, he passed many of the fourth-year students that had just concluded their Care of Magical Creatures class.
As Harry approached the front steps to the cabin, Fang, Hagrid's gigantic boarhound, came bounding around the corner. Fang was so happy to see Harry that he nearly bowled him over in his enthusiasm. Laughing merrily and wiping much of the extra saliva off of himself with the hem of his school robes, Harry followed Fang around to the paddock in the rear field.
Hagrid was just securing the gate to a huge enclosure where he had lured a small herd of thestrals. Seeing Harry, he engulfed him in a bear hug while Fang jumped excitedly all around them.
“So, how’s yeh bin, Harry?” Hagrid boomed in his usual jovial manner. “Bin wonderin’ when yeh’d get ‘round to seein’ yer old pal, Hagrid.”
“Still getting used to my new routine,” explained Harry. “Or rather lack of one, since Professor Lupin seems to be setting my appointments totally at random.”
“Lupin’s a good man, Harry. Jus' tryin’ to keep yeh on yer toes, no doubt. I hear Hermione’s bin assistin’ the headmistriss with the new library. Never knew ole Dumbledore’d have that many books, heh? Wot’s the news on Ron?”
“He’s been assigned to Professor Flitwick but Ron’s not one to talk about his school assignments, if you know what I mean. Says he managed a draw at wizard’s chess the other day, but hasn’t figured out how to evade the Professor’s maneuvers most of the time.”
Hagrid chuckled amicably. “He’ll get the besta the perfesser before yeh know it. Ron’s always bin a natural. Tell ‘im and Hermione ta be sure’n drop by fer tea, don’ wait for no invitation!”
“So Hagrid,” inquired Harry as he swept his eyes over the back paddock. “What made you decide to start with thestrals this year? Or it is only a lesson for the fourth years?”
“It was the headmistriss’ idea,” Hagrid explained proudly. “Said we should begin with thestrals for all classes exceptin’ the firs’ years. Said they’s was all bound to see ‘em leadin’ the carriages at the station “ at least the ones tha’ was here for Dumbledore’s funeral “ and they’d be lots o’ questions.”
Harry remembered that only those who had witnessed death and come to terms with it could see the skeletal horse-like creatures. It had been quite a shock to him to see that the magical carriages had indeed been drawn by these winged creatures. He actually thought he was going crazy until Luna had confided in him that she saw them as well.
“It’s a real revelation,” Harry admitted. “Ron, Ginny, Neville and Hermione were not too keen on riding a thestral when they couldn’t see it beneath them.”
“Sorry I missed tha’,” chortled Hagrid. “All the more reason to have ‘em drop by an’ get a good look. Tell ‘em to bring Neville an’ Ginny, too. Sit in on a few classes, even. The headmistriss is all for tha’.”
Once they settled into the cabin for a cup of tea, Harry regaled him with the tale of the Defense Against Dark Arts class that he’d witnessed. When he got to the part about Neville’s outburst, Hagrid had to stop and take deep breaths to keep from choking on his laughter.
“That Tonks is quite a character,” Hagrid snorted. “I’ll hafta look in on one o’ her classes meself. She’s just wot Lupin needed ta shake the melancholy outta him.”
“So you know then?” Harry asked incredulously.
“I suspec’ all the teachers do. They’ve bin a couple, on an’ off, for a coupla years now.”
“I had no idea,” Harry admitted.
“Naw, none o’ the students did; they’s all too wrapped up in their own activities ta notice half o’ wot goes on around ‘em,” pronounced Hagrid sagely.
“So Hagrid, do you think you could lend a bit of muscle to a little project I have planned for this afternoon?” ventured Harry as he briefly outlined his plan for retrieving the Vanishing Cabinet.
“Be glad ta. It’s gettin’ on two o’clock now so’s we’d best start the long trek up the hill, heh?”
They were the first to arrive at the seventh floor corridor across from the infamous troll tapestry. Not too much later the headmistress arrived with a panting Professor Flitwick close behind.
“I begged her not to take the stairs two at a time,” the diminutive Professor wheezed in apology.
“Now, Mr. Potter,” commanded the headmistress, “you promised us a demonstration. I checked the surrounding hallways; no one else is about.”
Harry took a deep breath and thought about how he should word his request. There was only one option that would work for him, he decided. I need to find the Potions textbook that I hid in here…I need to find the Potions textbook that I hid in here…I need to find the Potions textbook that I hid in here, he chanted inwardly as he traced his steps three times in front of the blank wall, eyes squeezed shut.
An appreciative murmur from the others indicated that he had been successful. He opened his eyes to see that the blank wall had grown a door in the middle.
McGonagall was not willing to let Harry enter alone even if it was just to ascertain that he had called up the proper incarnation of the room. They settled on having Professor Flitwick accompany him in case they encountered any unforeseen circumstances.
With a hammering heart, Harry opened the door just enough for him and the tiny Professor to enter. With a sigh of relief, the room was just as he had remembered if from before: a cavernous chamber so filled with discarded objects that it looked like a miniature city. Narrow avenues branched off in all directions. Professor Flitwick agreed to wait for Harry from atop a small stool he had found adjacent to the door.
Harry had already concluded that his first order of business was to locate the copy of Advanced Potion-Making that had once belonged to the Half-Blood Prince. It was essential that he satisfy the magical properties of the room by completing the task that had gained him entry in the first place. To do otherwise would likely doom all future attempts to reach this site.
After a few false starts, he located the proper route among the towering piles of discarded objects. Around the next corner, he found the massive wardrobe with the marred finish. The ugly bust, transformed from a wizard to a witch by the addition of a jaunty wig and tiara, was perched on top just as he remembered. With bated breath, he reached inside and located the contours of the book. It appeared to be intact. He double-checked the small inscription on the inside back cover that identified it as belonging to the Half-Blood Prince.
Harry resisted a sudden urge to stuff the old text into his book bag to show Lupin. Sooner or later he knew he would have to do so; especially once Lupin began analyzing how he, a mere student, has succeeded in unlocking the secrets to the Room of Requirement. Harry was certain that Lupin already suspected that there was more to the story of Draco and the Vanishing Cabinet than Harry had included in their discussion. But Lupin would have to wait; for now, it was safest to leave the book hidden as before. He looked back over his shoulder to check that everything had been left as he remembered and to burn the image once again into his memory.
Turning to the right this time, Harry located another avenue that would lead him back to Professor Flitwick. At the same time, he spied the Vanishing Cabinet peeking out from a pile of moth-eaten coats. In their hasty entrance, the Death Eaters must have knocked it over on its back.
“Eureka!” exclaimed Harry as Professor Flitwick rushed over to see for himself.
“Good work, my boy!” the Professor complimented as he gave the cabinet a cursory examination to make sure that there were no hidden jinxes. Then with a quick flick of his wand, Flitwick melted the key into the keyhole so it could no longer be turned.
Throwing the door to the Room of Requirement wide, Flitwick invited the others inside. Hagrid assisted them in righting the cabinet while McGonagall pronounced in an awed tone that this was indeed the same cabinet that had once stood on the first floor of the castle.
Alternately shoving and levitating the cabinet, Hagrid and Flitwick removed it to Filch’s woodpile. At the specific request of the headmistress, Filch’s assignment for the remainder of the afternoon was to reduce the cabinet to kindling.
Harry Potter and the Hero's Lament by L A Moody
Chapter Notes: Haunted by memories of Draco Malfoy’s perfidy, Harry presents a bold plan to the headmistress that will require Hagrid’s assistance; a simple action starts them on a path of suspicion.