JohnnyZ
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[Castling] Chapter 18
🕑 Added 2024-11-10 13:22:19 +0000 UTCAs promised, we took Hermione with us on Sunday. The girl was practically glowing with anticipation. And good thing too—she needed a distraction. She and Harry had driven us all up the wall with their endless debates over why Snape wanted to kill Potter. Neither I nor Hagrid could talk them out of it.
Unfortunately, Hermione didn’t take to the Path. She didn’t feel it, didn’t understand it, and saw it all as some creative excuse for our idling about the castle instead of focusing on homework.
What really miffed her was that we didn’t show her the Menagerie Harry had mentioned. Truth be told, we couldn’t find it ourselves.
“You don’t get it, Hermione,” I tried explaining. “The Path is Hogwarts talking to you. We’re not just wandering about on our own; it decides what to show us.”
“You talk as if the castle’s alive,” she scoffed. “Get real. It’s just ancient stone, Ron. The magic comes from the source, not the building. I’ve read all about it. Hogwarts and its grounds are the biggest concentration of magical energy in Britain, not some fairytale Path. Admit it, you and Harry made up the Menagerie. Or you’ve just forgotten where it is,” she added with a smug little lift of her nose before marching off.
“We’ve been looking for it for a week, Hermione!” I called after her. “You just don’t believe us.”
Still, she didn’t stop tagging along with us, mostly to keep up appearances and because of her idea of ‘duty’—friends should share secrets and fun, after all.
The oddest part was, I felt the castle didn’t like it. We found nothing new or exciting for ages, like we were going in circles. The magic felt dull, as if Hermione’s skepticism had sucked the life out of it.
It amazed me how different she and Luna were. With one, magic seemed to bloom and weave itself around us; with the other, it withered like a plucked flower, leaving behind an emptiness.
I mulled over how to hint that Hermione should stop coming with us, delicately, so she wouldn’t take offense. But fate—or sheer chance—sorted it out for me.
One day, something finally shifted.
We took a new route, wandering so long that we even got tired, which never used to happen. But we ended up at the highest viewing platform in the castle, even above the Astronomy Tower. The view was stunning, if windy, and even Hermione admitted it was impressive.
On our way back, we followed yet another new path, and I felt a bit relieved—The Path had accepted Hermione. Maybe she was starting to believe, or at least feel something.
A hidden passage led us to a landing. To the right stretched a wide staircase, and to the left, a huge door that creaked open as we approached. We’d definitely never been here before.
“This way, Hermione,” Harry urged, noticing she was eyeing the stairs as a safer option, and then squeezed through the doorway. She rolled her eyes dramatically but followed, and I brought up the rear.
“I think this is quite unnecessary, Harry,” she whispered loudly as we made our way through the massive, seemingly endless hall with a high ceiling. The windows were shuttered, but thin slivers of light slipped in, casting a mysterious glow. “We’ve had enough exploring for one day,” she droned on. “And our homework won’t do itself. You two might be careless, but there are limits—”
“Shush,” I snapped, freezing in place. I wasn’t sure what it was—maybe the silence wasn’t as lifeless as it should be, or perhaps a breeze carried new scents.
“How long are we just going to stand here?” Hermione demanded, not bothering to lower her voice. “And you could be more polite, Ron.”
“Harry, do you feel that too? We need to leave,” I ordered when he nodded and started backing away. “Hermione, move.”
“Why should we go all the way back when there’s a door right there?” she argued stubbornly, taking a step forward and glancing at us questioningly.
We first heard a low rumble, like a distant airplane. The noise swelled, and then we saw it—something far worse than a troll.
Out of the dark, only a few meters from her, a monstrous, silent figure emerged—a three-headed dog, easily over eight feet tall. It spanned nearly the entire corridor, and the thought that it wasn’t chained made my blood run cold.
Hermione slowly turned around and froze. The dog let out a menacing growl with all three heads, and we bolted, shouting.
I was at the back, chucking Hagrid’s rock-hard cakes from my pockets as we’d just been at his hut before our trek. They hit the stone floor with a thud, and I hoped it would distract the beast, even for a moment.
There was a loud crash and a yelp behind us. Thankfully, Fluffy was chained, and the jerk of the chain threw it back.
The dog whimpered pitifully, then flopped down and started whining.
We stopped, gasping for air. Hermione, who wasn’t used to running, leaned one hand against the wall and clutched her chest with the other, looking both outraged and shocked.
“Save it for later,” I wheezed, still trying to catch my breath. “This isn’t the place for an argument.”
Suddenly, the dog had enough of watching us and started barking.
“Run,” Harry urged. “Filch will hear that.”
We dashed for the exit.
“Never! Do you hear me? Never again am I going anywhere with you two!” Hermione raged as we turned into the corridor toward our tower. “We nearly died today, and if we’d been caught, we’d have been expelled. Risking my life for some daft notion—not a chance!”
“Alright, Hermione, no hard feelings. We get it,” Harry nodded. “But we’re still going to explore the castle.”
“You’re mad,” she muttered, but her tone had softened.
"Hermione, The Path always looks after travellers," I replied, as she rolled her eyes like a mum who’s had quite enough of kids’ nonsense. But I’d long since made peace with her narrow-mindedness.
"I just don’t understand how they can keep such a monster at school?" Harry went on. "What if someone runs into it by accident?"
"It’s on the third-floor corridor—the one that’s supposed to be closed off," I explained. "I’m sure it’s guarded. We just stumbled across it from the wrong side."
"Yeah, but why have a dog like that in the castle at all?" Harry wasn’t letting this go.
"You’re both idiots," Hermione interjected. "There was a huge trapdoor on the floor. The dog must be guarding it. How could you not notice?"
"Well, you were standing the closest," Harry shot back. "And honestly, I thought it was a brilliant adventure. Wouldn’t mind doing it again. What?!" he asked, catching her outraged look. "The dog’s on a leash, isn’t it?"
"Shame you’re not staying for Christmas, Ron," Harry said, clearly disappointed as he saw Hermione and me off to the train.
"Don’t worry," I reassured him, grinning sheepishly. "You won’t get lonely. George, Fred, and even Percy are staying, too. And Mum’ll send presents for Christmas—brace yourself. I bet she’ll knit you one of her special sweaters. It’s only two weeks, Harry. You won’t have time to blink, and the holidays will be over."
"Ron, why aren’t you wearing your winter cloak yet? We’re about to leave!" Hermione scolded, lugging her heavy bag with her. "And where’s your luggage, anyway?"
"I’m leaving my things here, Hermione," I replied with a smirk. "Or do you think I haven’t got a spare pair of socks and pants at home?"
"Ugh, you’re impossible," she blushed, then turned back to Harry. "I really can’t stay, Harry, sorry. But I hope you use the time wisely and find something about Flamel before we’re back," she added sternly, and I rolled my eyes and turned away.
Lately, she and Harry had been obsessing over that mysterious package from Gringotts. After our encounter with Fluffy and the info Hagrid let slip, their clever heads had pieced most of it together. There was definitely something valuable being hidden at the school; now, they just had to find out what.
I wasn’t getting involved, and that clearly annoyed the pair of them. Sure, I went with them to Hagrid’s and listened to their theories, but I wasn’t about to help them with the whole treasure hunt. In fact, I was planning to knock some sense into them and keep them from messing with that stone. For now, though, their busy minds could keep themselves occupied; less chance of them getting into trouble. And right then, I had only one worry: several hours in a train compartment with Hermione…
My dad picked me up at the station, and we took the Floo back home.
It had taken some convincing to let me come home for the break. After all, we’d be heading to see Charlie in Romania in three days. That’s why my brothers had stayed behind at Hogwarts.
They didn’t mind much, really. Percy had prefect duties—and an official girlfriend now, that Ravenclaw prefect Penelope Clearwater. And the twins had their little projects to keep them busy. Hogwarts was full of unused rooms, and they could probably find some gear lying around. At home, they’d have to hide everything from Mum.
Mum had tried to talk me into staying, even sent a Howler, but she finally gave in when I threatened to run away from school and walk the tracks home.
I’d thought I’d have some time alone to do my own thing and maybe visit Luna. But my parents went all out, and now we were off to Romania, the lot of us.
I went to see Luna the next day, ignoring Mum’s pursed lips.
“Hello, Ron,” she greeted me with her soft smile, opening the door before I could even knock.
“Hi, Luna,” I said, grinning as I hugged her thin, childlike frame. Even Ginny had been sturdier than Luna, and they were the same height.
“I was expecting you. The Crumuses told me you’d come today,” she murmured dreamily, looking somewhere over my shoulder. “Come on, I’ve brewed a new drink just for the occasion.”
“Crumuses?” I echoed, following her and holding her hand. "And who’re they?”
“Oh, you must read The Quibbler,” she replied with a thoughtful smile. “There’s a big article on them in the first issue. I saved it for you.”
“Thanks,” I grinned warmly. “I’ll have to ask your dad to sign it for me one day.”
“Oh, Ron, he wouldn’t dream of it,” Luna chided gently. “He doesn’t work for fame, you know. He does it to spread the truth that’s hidden from most wizards by the Nargles before the Wrackspurts start infecting everyone. And that’s when something awful always happens. It always does, when the Sun is in the twelfth house,” she said quite seriously, leading me to the kitchen.
“Dad said that the Glooml told him the Nargles are stirring this year—they’re very active in Hogwarts. He’s not sure he wants me back there without a charm, at least. Don’t worry, Ron, I’ll ask him to make you one, too,” she said earnestly, fussing around the kettle. “The zeppelin-plums are almost in bloom.”
“Take a seat, Luna,” I urged her, “let me have a proper look at you. I missed you.”
“But we wrote every day, didn’t we?” she asked, leaning against my side and resting her head on my shoulder.
“Well, sure, but that’s just letters. This is… real talking,” I scoffed, my attention wandering as the kettle whistled. “Didn’t you miss me, at all?”
“No,” she said, completely serious. “I’d forgotten that you’re not a true wizard yet,” she added with that otherworldly smile, making me flinch.
“Pairing notebooks is bound by wizard magic between the people who write in them,” Luna explained, pouring some crimson liquid into my cup. “So no one else can use them. You’re meant to feel it rather than just write.”
"What’s this?" I asked, leaning over the cup and giving it a sniff.
"If you close your eyes, won’t you feel my magic?" Luna asked, sitting down next to me and eagerly nudging the cup toward me.
"Yeah, I suppose I will. I just hadn’t thought of it like that when I was writing to you."
"To become a wizard, Ron, you’ll have to blind your mind and let your heart see," she replied unexpectedly clearly, looking right into my eyes. Her gaze had that same intense strength I’d felt on the field, but in an instant, it softened back to her usual dreamy, gentle look. "You were always here, Ron, that’s why I didn’t miss you," she smiled, brightening up. "Go on, try it."
"Just don’t tell me it’s lyre root," I blurted, still a bit dazed by her words, and froze as I realized what I’d said.
"Oh, maybe it is!" she gasped, eyes wide with surprise, and laughed. "Although I thought it was swamp air-root. You’re getting it, Ron! Well done! Just a little more, and we’ll be able to play together. Go on, try it."
The drink had a strange taste, like nothing I’d ever had before, and, to be honest, it wasn’t pleasant—too strong with spices for my liking.
"Sorry, Luna, I don’t really like it," I admitted honestly, setting the cup down and watching in surprise as she took a sip and closed her eyes with a blissful smile. "Where did you even get this root from?"
"I just wished for it, and it grew," she said. "It’s part of the game. The Path told me, just as it told me to give you some so you’d understand, too."
"And what exactly am I supposed to understand?" I asked with a grin, remembering our little game.
"Well, for now, that tea is tastier," she laughed. "But don’t worry—I’ve got plenty of root left in the swamp. Don’t fret, Ron, you’ll understand eventually," she encouraged, taking another sip.
"And what about really?" I pressed her. I actually did want to know. "What am I supposed to understand, Luna?"
"I can’t tell you that, Ron," she said seriously. "Everyone has to walk the Path on their own and solve the Riddles for themselves. But I can tell you what I learned. I think you didn’t like the drink because it’s not tea, the tea you’re used to. You’re comparing the new to the familiar, expecting the unknown to taste like the usual. That’s easier but wrong. That way, you’ll never actually know what the drink is really like."
"Alright then, let’s give it another go," I decided, pausing over the cup before taking a sip.
What can I say? The taste didn’t change, but what Luna was getting at started to hit me by the fifth sip. It was like… trying a new fruit that doesn’t match any fruit you know. Like tasting a salty watermelon or something. You can’t think of it as anything you’ve seen or tasted before. You’ve got to take it as it is—unique, unlike anything else.
Lyre root wasn’t actually that bad once I stopped comparing it to tea. Luna was right about that. At first, the color reminded me of beetroot, and then, unconsciously, I decided it must taste awful. But really, it was more like a thick, sweet flower syrup, almost like orchid nectar, but without that distinctive smell.
"Thanks. I didn’t think I’d say this, but that wasn’t bad," I said gratefully once I’d finished. "Tell me, I had a thought. These lessons aren’t just about tea, are they?"
"Of course not," Luna nodded approvingly. "You like warmth because it’s comforting, and you dislike cold because it brings pain. But cold doesn’t always mean pain, and warmth doesn’t always mean comfort. It’s just our perception. But warmth and cold are really something else entirely. You’ll never understand them if you keep seeing pain as evil and comfort as good."
"There’s no good and evil. There’s only power, and those too weak to seek it," I found myself quoting a line that popped clearly into my memory.
"Oh, Ron, you got it!" Luna’s shout jolted me back to the present. She’d never looked at me with such admiration before. "I told you, the drink would help you. Now we can play together. Isn’t that brilliant?"
We spent the whole day together, discussing serious things disguised as a game. That was just Luna’s way—she couldn’t play any other way. Everything had a definite meaning, but figuring it out wasn’t easy. She was right—you can teach someone to think, but everyone has to learn how to feel on their own.
On the way home, I kept replaying our conversation. Luna thought I’d understood, but all I’d done was repeat someone else’s words. And it troubled me that the Dark Lord—the most ruthless, heartless figure imaginable—thought the same way as this strange and entirely magical girl, for whom a friend's small hurt was the bitterest thing in the world.
