Chapter 13 Riddle

November arrived at Hogwarts in a tumult of fallen leaves and chill winds. The Halloween feast had been a joyous affair, with no troll interruptions thanks to Jonathan's foresight and his modified Imperturbable Charm. The house-elves had outdone themselves with pumpkin pasties, cauldron cakes, and treacle tart that had even the ghosts lamenting their inability to eat.

Now, with Halloween's excitement behind them, the students settled into the routine of classes, homework, and the ever-present whispers about the Boy Who Lived. But for Jonathan Blackwood, routine was the last thing on his mind.

"Jonathan! There you are!" Hermione Granger's voice cut through the hubbub of the Gryffindor common room one chilly Saturday morning. Jonathan, who'd been attempting to teach Mr. Whiskers to play wizard chess (the cat seemed more interested in batting the enchanted pieces around than learning strategy), looked up.

"Hey, Hermione. What's up? You look like you've just found out there's an exam on all the Goblin Rebellions. Combined."

"Worse," she said, her bushy hair even more frazzled than usual. "Professor McGonagall's sprung a surprise Transfiguration test on us. Next Friday! And it's on cross-species switches!"

Ron, sprawled in a nearby armchair and attempting to bribe Mr. Whiskers with a Cauldron Cake to stop attacking his bishop, groaned. "Brilliant. Just what we need. More homework."

"This is important, Ronald!" Hermione huffed. "These tests form the foundation of our O.W.L.s, which in turn affect our N.E.W.T.s, which could decide our entire wizarding careers!"

"Hermione," Harry interjected gently, looking up from the latest issue of "Which Broomstick?", "we're eleven. I think our careers can wait a bit."

But Hermione was on a mission. She grabbed Jonathan's arm. "Come on. We're going to the library. You're the only one who takes this seriously!"

As she dragged Jonathan away, he shot a pleading look at Harry and Ron. Harry gave him a sympathetic shrug, while Ron mouthed 'Better you than me!' Mr. Whiskers, meanwhile, had finally cornered Ron's king and was now purring loudly, as if celebrating a feline checkmate.

The library was quieter than usual, most students probably enjoying the rare autumn sunshine. Madam Pince, the vulture-like librarian, eyed them suspiciously as they entered, as if they might suddenly start a book-sorting rebellion.

"Right," Hermione said, her voice a fierce whisper. "I've already made a study schedule. We'll start with 'Transformative Techniques for the Tenacious,' then move on to 'Cross-Species Conundrums: A Comprehensive Guide.'"

Jonathan sighed but followed her lead. He knew better than to argue with Hermione in full study mode. Besides, he had to admit, her color-coded notes and meticulous diagrams were a bit of genius.

For the next hour, they pored over texts. Jonathan found himself actually enjoying it. There was something soothing about the scratch of quills, the rustle of parchment, the occasional soft meow...

"Mr. Whiskers?" Jonathan exclaimed as his feline companion sauntered around a bookshelf. "How did you get in here?"

"Shhh!" Madam Pince hissed from her desk.

Hermione looked exasperated but fond. "He probably followed us. You know how he is."

Indeed, Mr. Whiskers had a knack for appearing in unlikely places. Last week, he'd somehow managed to end up in the Slytherin common room, much to Malfoy's horror and the Weasley twins' delight. ("Ten Galleons says he shredded Malfoy's favorite silk pajamas!" "You're on, Gred!")

"Well, as long as he doesn't..." Jonathan trailed off as Mr. Whiskers leapt onto a nearby shelf, tail swishing dangerously close to a row of ancient-looking tomes.

"Oh no you don't," Jonathan muttered, lunging for the cat. But Mr. Whiskers was too quick. With a playful bat of his paw, he sent a book toppling to the floor with a dusty thud.

"Out!" Madam Pince screeched, appearing like a vengeful spirit. "Both of you! And your little furball too!"

Hermione looked torn between mortification and fury as they were chased out, Jonathan clutching the fallen book along with his study materials. Mr. Whiskers, for his part, trotted along behind them, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Jonathan said once they were safely in the corridor. "I didn't mean for him to... you know."

Hermione sighed, her anger deflating. "It's okay. I suppose we had been at it for a while. And we did get through most of 'Transformative Techniques.'" She glanced at the book in Jonathan's arms. "What's that one, anyway?"

Jonathan looked down. It was old, bound in faded green leather with no title on the cover. "I don't know. Mr. Whiskers knocked it down, and in the chaos..." He trailed off as he opened it.

The pages were yellowed, the ink faded. But the diagrams and text were still legible. "Merlin's beard," Jonathan breathed. "Hermione, look at this!"

She peered over his shoulder, her eyes widening. "That's... that's not first-year magic. Not even seventh-year! This is advanced stuff, theoretical Transfiguration and... is that Arithmancy?"

Jonathan nodded, his mind whirling. The book was a treasure trove of magical theory, way beyond their current level. But as he turned the pages, something else caught his eye. A small note, scribbled in the margin:

"To the one who walks among stars, the Chamber of Illumination awaits. Solve the riddle, find the path."

...

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