Year Three - Chapter Eleven

I flipped through a book on Gargoyles. The art of giving sentience to stone was actually something that had interested me, but I had never found the time to go beyond making a sponge float and try to be murderous. This time, I had every intention of getting my own pet. One that wouldn't need food, wouldn't need air, wouldn't need anything but my snapping of fingers to get into the business of killing my enemies with appropriately placed talons to necks.

Then again, I dimly realized that I didn't have any immediate concerns.

"What am I going to do with my life now?" I muttered as I stared at the ceiling. Then, I dimly realized that I had the answer in my right hand, while my left flipped through the pages. I could go Horcrux hunting at a leisurely later date. Voldemort was nothing more than a shadow from what I remembered, one that wouldn't stop haunting the forests of Albania anytime soon.

This led me to another point of contention. The Triwizard Tournament, the one thing I had no intention of participating into, and which I might end up having to coach Harry Potter into the ancient art of surviving just one more day.

That was tied to Alastor Moody not being the real Alastor Moody but an impostor, but if I wasn't wrong, Pettigrew had a hand in that too hadn't he?

No Pettigrew, no Alastor Moody.

I drummed with my fingertips on the surface of the desk, and a cup of tea appeared, summoned from the kitchens. I took a sip, mulled over a couple of thoughts, and then heard a rattling noise from beyond the door.

There was a sharp explosion-like sound, which made me jump out of my chair and actually roll behind the cover the Room of Requirements aptly provided me. Apparently someone had lost a sandbag from a world war into Hogwarts -maybe an apparition mishap or an Accio gone wrong when querying for cover. Still, I was behind heavy sand cover when the explosion died out, my ears ringing from the noise.

"Sirius Black!" I heard the sharp, incredibly angry, voice of Professor McGonagall. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing!? I swear I will take away so many points from Gryffindor that-"

"B-But I'm no longer at Hogwarts, professor!" Sirius' voice rang from beyond the door, "And anyway, I know he's in here! The bloody hero who cleared me of my charges! A good Bombarda should catch his attention if he's busy, and if he's not-"

Very silently, I pulled myself out from behind the sandbag, walked towards the door, and then opened it up from inside.

Outside, the stern expression of Professor McGonagall was right next to the grinning one of a certain Sirius Black, apparently quite happy to have been found his mark. Next to him, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were all standing at attention. Well, Harry looked the one trying to do his best not to appear like the guy who ate a sour lemon, Hermione was affronted by some kind of unknown problem -probably Sirius' incredibly idiotic spell- and Ron was still clutching his ears and doing his best to forget the trauma of having slept with a balding animagus wizard in the same room as him.

Yes, all in all, it looked like I'd have guests whether I wanted them or not.

"Hello," I said. "Was it really necessary to try blowing the door up?" I grumbled next, patting the wall by the side of the door, where the scorch mark were slowly, but surely, healing and disappearing.

"I didn't remember how to get in here," Sirius said amiably, "Had to ask Albus about the location of the place," he continued, "So, I don't know if you know it, but here's Harry! He's my godson," he slapped a hand on Harry's back, "I'm his Godfather, you know, and-"

"Mister Umbrus," Professor McGonagall said with a dreadful sigh, "May I trust you to supervise Mister Black?"

I looked at Professor McGonagall. "The day is dark indeed that an adult wizard needs supervision by the likes of me, Professor," I patted my heart, "You have my word. I will see him supervised, or I will see him petrified and left as a quaint paperweight in a corner of your office for further punishment."

Minerva's lips twitched in what looked like a smile. "Mister Umbrus," she said in the end, "alas, an old witch like me can only dream."

With that said, she walked away.

"W-Was that a smile on Professor McGonagall's face?" Sirius Black whispered, his eyes wide and his expression befuddled. "H-how did you do that!?" he asked next, his hands grabbing hold of my shoulders and shaking me as he spoke, "We thought she had lost her ability to smile!"

I blinked. "Professor McGonagall is a good and nice professor," I said. "Perhaps less pranking and more hardworking would have done the trick?"

"Eh..." Sirius shrugged, "Not my kind of thing." He swung an arm around Harry's shoulders, rubbing his head affectionately, much to the boy's sheer embarrassment. "Anyway! Going to let us in your secret office or we're taking tea out here in the corridor?"

I relented, leaving the door open and gesturing for them to follow me.

I snapped my fingers as they all settled inside, chairs appearing from the floor as a table set with tea and biscuits popped from the ground. A chimney sprung to life, burning happily. Carpets covered the floor, and the shelves filled with Defense Against the Dark Arts books swapped their contents out with leisure literature.

"Blimey," Ron muttered in disbelief, "How did you do that?"

I smiled. "Magic," I said.

I took a seat, offering one to the others.

"This room, it's not really yours, is it?" Hermione asked.

"The Castle works in mysterious ways," I answered instead. "I found the room in my first year of school, or did the room find me?" I mused as I took a sip of the tea already in my cup. "Since then, we've been inseparable. I share it with the House Elves and a certain Professor Trelawney, at the moment, but I'm trying to convince the Headmaster to leave it as my experimentation office for all things explosive, dangerous and highly lethal."

My eyes gleamed at a sudden thought. "Maybe next year I'll find enough of a pull with the Headmaster to get him to concede."

"It's unfair that you have this advantage over the rest of the school," Hermione said. "This-"

"Room might just cease existing by tomorrow," I interrupted her, "magic works in mysterious way. If you reveal the existence of this room at large, it might just stop existing. Perhaps one of the requirements for its existence is that only those in great need may use it, or maybe only those who are chosen by the room. I made no attempt to publicize it, but an advantage remains such only as long as few know of its existence and purpose."

I took another sip.

"But it would annoy me greatly if tomorrow the whole school knew of its existence. This is one of the few things I like to consider, if not mine, at the very least something I can stake some kind of claim on. Would you really be so callous as to take it away from me? Also, think about those poor children. They might be traumatized if they step inside while I'm practicing transfiguration," I shook my head, much to Hermione's paling face. "There was so much blood one day...the smell still lingers."

I laughed the next, but the message had been delivered.

Was it because in this world I didn't have anything but the clothes on my back and my knowledge, that I so desperately wanted to defend my sanctuary as my own?

It made me furrow my brows in doubt. The Room of Requirements was mine. Well, no, it wasn't mine as much as it belonged to the school, but at the same time I felt it was vividly something that would be better put to use under my care. Tom Riddle had wanted the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

I wanted the Room of Requirements.

"So, you play or watch Quidditch? It's the rage in the youngsters; I needed a couple of days just to get back on track with the championships! World tournament this summer, here we come!" Sirius exclaimed, changing the argument with the speed of a Chaser hunting a Quaffle in the enemy's hands.

I smiled, and tried to make conversation.

They left only after more than one hour, and by then I had to resort to do my homework rather than experiment on transfiguring a rock into a dragon, and then making the dragon sentient with the Gargoyle-making spell.

I'd try the next day, or the day after that...

...I had nothing but free time now, didn't I?