Today was the last day. In mere hours, we would board the Hogwarts Express and leave the castle behind for summer break.
I glanced at my watch: 2:43 am.
I sighed heavily, the sound echoing across the stone walls of the Room of Requirement, which had been my sanctuary for nearly three months.
"Why are you sighing?" the Sorting Hat grumbled from its perch. "I'm the one who should be sighing. I've been imprisoned here for almost three months!"
I didn't bother responding. After all our time together, I'd grown accustomed to the Hat's complaints. Instead, I placed my palm against the cool stone wall, concentrating until a shadowy door materialized before me. I stepped through and emerged into an empty corridor, the familiar weight of Hogwarts' magic settling around me once more.
Reaching into my enchanted wallet—one of my better pieces of spellwork, if I do say so myself—I withdrew my map. It was superior to the Marauders' Map in every way, and completely my own creation. Well, mostly.
"I am One with Words," I whispered, placing my hand above the parchment.
The castle unfolded before me in glorious three-dimensional detail, every corridor and staircase rendered in perfect miniature. Names floated in various locations—fewer than usual at this late hour. The Aurors who had been crawling over the castle like ants on a sugar cube appeared to have finally abandoned their fruitless search. The familiar labels of Filch, Professor McGonagall, and Mrs. Norris still moved about, forever patrolling the midnight corridors.
"First stop, tying loose ends," I murmured to myself, a habit I'd developed during my isolation.
I navigated the deserted corridors with practiced ease, ducking behind tapestries when necessary and taking advantage of secret passages I'd discovered and added to my map. Eventually, I reached the familiar painting of a fruit bowl. I tickled the pear, which giggled and transformed into a door handle.
The kitchens were quiet at this hour, with only a few house-elves preparing for the morning's breakfast. I slipped past them, finding the hidden entrance to their quarters—a discovery I'd made months ago that had proven invaluable to my plans.
The house-elves' dormitory was cavernous, with rows upon rows of tiny beds. Hundreds of the creatures slept soundly, their large ears twitching occasionally as they dreamed. I'd checked my map thoroughly; they were all accounted for.
I raised my hands slowly, methodically, focusing my will and magic. What I was about to do required precision—not as straightforward as the simple charms taught in class. This was magic of my own design, refined during my months of study.
"I Cast False Memories," I whispered, my voice barely audible yet somehow resonating through the chamber.
Golden threads erupted from my fingertips, splitting and multiplying until they formed a complex web that spread across the sleeping elves. Each thread found its target, gently attaching to a small forehead. I concentrated, directing the magic to seek out specific memories—anything connecting me to the theft of the Sorting Hat.
The book in my mind opened, its pages fluttering as I mentally turned them. I worked methodically, replacing compromising recollections with harmless alternatives. Tillery would remember receiving the radio as a gift for excellent service. My week-long dedication to American Pie would become a special tribute to Muggle music suggested by Professor Flitwick.
The golden threads pulsed once, twice, then dissolved into the air like morning mist. The elves shifted in their sleep but didn't wake.
"I feel rather guilty about this," I admitted to myself, watching the last wisps of magic fade. "But a loose end tied is a problem solved. I Cast Invisibility."
The spell washed over me like cool water, and I vanished from sight. I made my way back through the castle toward Ravenclaw Tower, moving with greater confidence now that I couldn't be seen.
The eagle door knocker posed its riddle when I approached, which I answered easily with the help of my map. I gazed at the bronze eagle with a mixture of fondness and determination. I'd attempted to remove it countless times before, studying its enchantments from every angle. Until now, I'd always failed.
I placed my hand carefully on the knocker's cool metal surface. The difficulty had never been the door knocker itself but rather the castle wards it was connected to—ancient protective magic that had stood for centuries.
"I Cast Counterspell," I whispered.
This was another spell from the book—the grimoire of the Order of Scribes. According to its pages, Counterspell could interrupt magic in the moment of casting, but I'd discovered it also worked briefly against established spells like wards, creating a momentary window of vulnerability.
For less than a heartbeat, the wards faltered. It was enough. I wrenched the knocker free with a single swift motion and closed the door behind me before the magic could reassert itself. The weight of the eagle in my hand felt like triumph. After all I wasn't gonna steal it for long just a few hours and then place it back but I did have that bet with Rebecca I couldn't lose that.
The Ravenclaw common room was eerily silent, the midnight-blue carpet absorbing the sound of my footsteps as I crossed to the staircase.
I climbed the stairs to my dormitory and carefully opened the door with a nonverbal unlocking charm. Inside, my simulacrum—Ice-Felix, as I'd come to call him—lay sleeping in my bed, perfectly mimicking my own sleeping habits. Even his breathing matched the pattern I'd observed in mirrors.
Curled up beside him was Jarvey, his dark fur rising and falling with each breath.
"Hey, wake up," I whispered, gently prodding Jarvey's side.
"What the fuck are you doing, you—" Jarvey began automatically, his eyes blinking open. When recognition dawned, he froze mid-sentence, his red eyes widening comically.
"Felix!" he exclaimed, scampering up my arm and onto my shoulder with surprising speed. He nuzzled against my neck, his fur tickling my skin.
"Looks like someone missed me," I said, unable to resist the smug tone.
Jarvey immediately stopped, leaping back onto the bed as if I'd suddenly become red-hot.
"Who missed you? Stop imagining things," he huffed, grooming himself with exaggerated nonchalance.
I grinned, feeling a peculiar warmth spread through my chest. "Sure, you couldn't possibly have missed me. You're a stone-cold Jarvey, after all."
"That I am," he confirmed with dignity. "Believe it, you blonde-haired bastard."
And just like that, everything was back to normal. Somehow, that was the most comforting thought I'd had in months.
"Well, get off the bed. I need to wake up the simulacrum," I said.
"Alrighty," Jarvey replied, hopping to the floor.
I turned my attention to Ice-Felix, studying his face—my face. It was disconcerting, like looking into a mirror that moved independently. I touched his shoulder lightly, and his eyes opened immediately, the golden irises identical to my own. We stared at each other in silence for a moment.
"Sup," I said eventually.
"Sup," he replied, his voice a perfect imitation of mine.
"Did you have fun?" I asked, curious about his experiences despite knowing he wasn't truly sentient.
"I did as you asked," he answered flatly.
Of course that was his response. For all his physical perfection, the simulacrum lacked true consciousness. He was a magical construct following instructions, nothing more. Though after my studies in the Room of Requirement, I suspected that might change given time and the right enchantments.
"Well then, get in here," I instructed, opening my magically expanded wallet. The simulacrum nodded and obediently dove inside, disappearing into the enchanted space.
I collapsed onto my bed, the familiar mattress feeling like heaven after months of conjured bedding. Jarvey scrambled up beside me, finding his usual spot by my pillow.
"There is no bed like your own," I murmured, my eyelids growing heavy as exhaustion finally caught up with me.
As sleep claimed me, I felt more at peace than I had in months.
A/N: Scared you guys with a chapter release didn't I