Room of Requirement: A Work in Progress

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fan Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
I own nothing. Characters and places belong to J.K. Rowling.

Submitted: November 03, 2011

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Submitted: November 03, 2011

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Hermione Granger ran down the corridor and toward the portrait of the Fat Lady, the entrance to Gryffindor tower.

 

Her last class had been disastrous. With her help, Neville Longbottom had successfully completed the making of his Expanding Solution, when, on the table in front of them, Seamus Finnegan’s cauldron began to emit a hideous purple smoke.

 

“Mr. Finne—“ Snape never got the chance to finish his sentence and barely had time to cast a shield charm before the cauldron exploded sending droplets of his potion everywhere. Trying to get away, he backed into Neville’s perfectly passable potion, which promptly splashed onto Neville himself, growing his arms to the size of a troll’s.

 

Snape flicked his wand again, removing the shield. “Once again, Mr. Finnegan, you turn my classroom into a three-ring circus complete with mutant gorillas,” he said with a glance toward Neville, who ran out of the dungeon for the hospital wing. “Clean it up. The rest of you, I advise to get out of my room. Now.”

 

The students needed no other incentive. Thankfully, the potion had only hit a length of her hair, so as soon as it had been cut, she escaped the room.

 

“Poltergeist,” she said.

 

“Right-o, dear!” the Fat Lady agreed and swung her portrait forward, allowing Hermione to pass.

 

Seeing that the common room was vacant, she collapsed into her favorite armchair. She wasn’t in the mood to finish her star chart for Astronomy, so class work was out of the question. After what she’d just been through, some nice relaxation period was just what she needed.

 

“Avis,” she whispered, sending birds fluttering from the tip of her wand. Today the birds were small with reddish orange plumage, but the tips of their wings, she noticed, were a fiery scarlet.

 

Crookshanks, who had been watching her lazily from a sunny patch on the floor, was determined to get a closer look. Within seconds, he was perched on the back of Hermione’s chair.

 

“Nice work, Granger,” came a voice from behind her. She jumped, sending a few of the birds flying out the open window by mistake. The voice had come from a freckled redhead leaning over the banister of the staircase leading toward the boys’ dormitories.

 

“Merlin’s beard, Fred! You scared me! What are you doing out of class?”

 

“I could ask you the same thing. I have an open your. You, on the other hand, have Potions. What happened? Did Neville explode a mixture of gurdy root and infusion of wormwood again?” he asked, a slight grin on his face.

 

“Close. Seamus blew up his cauldron, knocking over Neville’s Expanding Solution, which was brewed correctly for once. The rest of the class was sent to the hospital wing,” Hermione replied.

 

“Wicked! How’d you get off so easily?” asked Fred, descending the stairs two at a time and taking a seat next to her.

 

“It only hit my hair and I’ve been cutting it myself since first year,” she explained, with another wave of her wand. The birds vanished.

 

“Where do you suppose they go when I make them vanish like that? She asked her ginger companion.

 

“Doth my listening holes deceive me? Is the brilliant Hermione Granger—the brightest witch of her age—asking me—Fred Weasley, prankster extraordinaire—a question?” Fred cupped his ear, feigning astonishment.

 

She laughed. “Shut it, you. It’s a legitimate question and isn’t covered in any of the books I’ve read! Haven’t you ever wondered why?”

 

“No, can’t say that I have,” Fred replied.

 

“You can’t be serious! Why not?”

 

“Because I already know the answer.”

 

“Of course you don’t, Fred!”

 

“Yes I do. Go up to the seventh floor,” Fred said simply.

 

“You can’t really expect me to believe that you’re not just having me on. How am I supposed to think that I can follow your directions alone and open the door to a room that might just be full of used Butterbeer bottles and Pumpkin Pastie wrappers?” she asked, exasperated.

 

“Okay, I can tell when I’m not wanted. I can take the hint, Granger. Have fun with your birds.”

 

Fred got up to leave and was halfway out the portrait hole when Hermione ran to follow him.

 

“Wait! I’m sorry,” Hermione pled, grabbing on the arm of his robes.

 

“Apology accepted, Granger. You coming with me?” he asked with a grin.

 

“Where?”

 

“To a room full of Butterbeer corks and discarded wrappers, of course. Now lets go!”

 

They walked up the remaining four flights of stairs and stopped at a particularly large expanse of wall.

 

“Are we lost?” Hermione asked, staring at the wall.

 

“Not in the least.”

 

“Then why on Earth are you pacing?”

 

“You’ll see,” he said with a grin.

 

Her eyes widened. A door unlike any other appeared to paint itself over the expanse of the wall. It was wrought iron with ivy crawling down from the top and twisting themselves around the doorknob. On the highest vine was a sparrow so lifelike that she could have swore it cocked its head at her.

 

“Well, are you going to stare all day or are we going in?” Fred laughed.

 

“In, of course! When did you find this place?”

 

“Fifth year. I needed to get away after Angelina and I broke up.”

 

“Oh,” she whispered, walking through the door Fred held open for her.

 

What she had seen on the door was nothing compared to the beauty her eyes beheld upon entering it.

 

Oak and elm trees with trunks as wide as the necks of dragons soared to a ceiling much like the one in the Great Hall. A single bench sat not fifteen feet from them. The sound of numerous birds chirping met them after Fred closed the door.

 

“This is beautiful!” She exclaimed as she found her way to the bench. “I can’t believe it’s been here all this time!”

 

“It hasn’t. That’s the beauty of it, Granger. You’ve heard of the come and go room, I presume?”

 

“Of course!” she said.

 

“How could you not have with how many times you’ve read ‘Hogwarts: A History’?” Fred said.

 

“I was in awe, I suppose,” she laughed.

 

Hermione walked around the room while Fred sat on the bench. When she reached what seemed to be the only maple among the lot, she stopped and stared in amazement. On a low branch sat a bird of her own creation.

 

She stood and stared silently for a while. As new as this particular bird was to her she thought it felt right somehow. She loved the way the light played with the different shades of red and orange in its feathers as it moved.

 

This was the first time her birds has been anything other than canary yellow. After vaguely pondering why this might be, a subtext from ‘Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5’ came to mind.

 

*The Avis charm is not steadfast and unchanging in its form. Like the Patronus, it can change from one form to another after the witch or wizard’s opinions or preferences change. Ex: love, friendship, loss of a loved one, etc.*

 

Ron, she thought with a shudder. It had been over three months since Professor McGonagall had paired Ron and Lavender Brown together while transfiguring lizards into lock picks, and since then they had started dating. It no longer hurt her to see them together or hear them laughing from a corner of the common room.

 

Whenever she thought about the heartbreak she felt during that difficult time, her mind always jumped to the one person who could console and even make her laugh through it all. She didn’t know what she would have done without him.

 

“Earth to Granger!” came the voice of the very person she had been thinking about only moments ago. “Pardon me, Hermione, but you’re needed back here on Earth. What’s got you so quiet?”

 

Blushing, she jumped and quickly moved her eyes from the bird to Fred, who was now standing beside her, smiling. “Nothing, Fred. Just got lost in thought.”

 

“Well, if that’s all, I think we should be heading down the Great Hall. Dinner’s in ten minutes. Wouldn’t want Lee and George thinking we were up to something, would you?”

 

“No!” She grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward the door.

 

“You’ve got a funny way of trying to hold my hand, Granger,” Fred laughed, a wide grin covering his face. “Do it right.”

 

He reached for her hand and they were off. 


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