Catch The Snitch

Tatiana sucked in a quiet breath as the chamber lurched and rejected Burial, her hand snapping out instinctively to steady herself against the wall. The cold, watching sensation prickled along her spine, and for a moment she didn’t move—just listened to the stone settle, to the silence returning in careful increments.“…Merlin,” she murmured, then let out a breath that was half laugh, half awe. Her eyes flicked back to the runes, lingering on Truth now seated at the bottom, and something in her expression sharpened; not fear, but respect. “Alright,” she said softly. “Message received. This place doesn’t end stories. It preserves them.”

She stepped closer to Derek again, voice lowered, excitement tempered now by a deliberate calm. “That reaction...” she gestured faintly to where Burial had been rejected, “...that wasn’t a trap. It was a refusal. Like the room itself disagreed with us.” As the passage revealed itself, she leaned forward slightly, peering down the sloping stairs without crossing the threshold. The scent hit her next, and her lips curved with something like reverence. “Parchment,” she echoed. “Untouched history. Not curated. Not edited.” Her gaze slid to Derek, eyes bright but cautious. “They didn’t hide this to keep it safe,” she said. “They hid it to keep it honest.”

She adjusted her grip on her wand, not raising it yet. Not rushing. “We passed the first test because we listened instead of forcing it,” she added quietly. “So let’s not ruin their faith in us now.” A beat; then a small, excited smirk slipped through. “But Derek… if this is what they buried beneath the library, I can’t imagine what Hogwarts didn’t want remembered.” Tati nodded toward the stairs. “After you. I’ll watch the walls.”

"It was a like when a professor smacks your hand for giving the wrong answer that you should have known," Derek said to how the room reacted to the wrong choice, "It wanted us to still get it right. Which means if anyone had come down here... I wonder how many times you could get it wrong before something more drastic happens. Luckily, I brought you along," he smirked at her, "Two heads are better than one."

At what she surmised about them keeping it hidden, nodding in agreement, then looking down, "It might not be that they didn't want it remembered... we just forgot to come looking," he said, looking down the stairs, "Maybe," he tacked on quickly. He nodded in agreement on going first, planning on it anyway, so that he could still take the brunt of anything that did happen. He went slowly, testing each step before going down, but it seemed the puzzles had come to an end as the stairs opened into a large chamber glowing a soft blue, with strange luminescent stones scattered around. But beyond that, there were shelves of books, piles of parchment, artifacts tucked in alcoves, and a central dais with runes written around the exterior. As he stepped into the room, cautiously, there was a ripple in the air.

Then, much like the rest of Hogwarts, a spirit came floating up out of the center of the dais. He looked as tangible as the rest of them, but he was ancient-looking, crooked, leaning on a cane, even though he and the cane were floating, staring down a hawk-like nose at them, peering through spectacles at them.

"Well! It's about time," he grouched.

Tatiana followed a step behind Derek, every instinct buzzing as the stairs opened into the chamber—and then she stopped short. “Oh,” she breathed. It wasn’t fear that rooted her in place, but sheer magnitude. Her eyes moved slowly, almost reverently, over the glowing stones, the shelves bowing under the weight of forgotten knowledge, the careless stacks of parchment that looked one wrong breath away from crumbling into dust. This wasn’t a room so much as a confession Hogwarts had been holding for centuries. “This isn’t…” She swallowed, trying again. “This isn’t just a cache.”

Her heart hammered as she took another step in, senses overloaded. It felt old in a way the castle itself rarely did—older than pride, older than politics. Important in a way that didn’t need explanation to be understood. Then the air rippled. Tatiana jumped, a sharp gasp escaping her as the spirit rose from the dais. Her wand came halfway up on instinct before she caught herself, shoulders stiff, eyes wide as the ancient figure took shape. The grouchy declaration earned him a stunned blink, then a quiet, incredulous laugh she hadn’t quite meant to let out. “Right,” she muttered under her breath. “Of course there’s a ghost.”

She lowered her wand fully and immediately looked to Derek, stepping just slightly closer to his side; not hiding, but anchoring. Her voice dropped, awed and a little overwhelmed. “Derek,” she whispered, eyes never leaving the spirit, “please tell me you read something...anything...that explains why Hogwarts has an ancient spectral archivist glaring at us like we’re late for detention.” Tati drew in a steadying breath, composure settling back into place as she straightened. If this room demanded patience, then so did its guardian. Aloud now, careful but respectful, she inclined her head toward the spirit. “I… apologize if we’re intruding,” she said honestly. “We didn’t come looking for trouble.”

A pause; then, unable to help herself, wonder crept into her tone. “But whatever this place is… it feels like it’s been waiting.”

The spirit looked at her and gave a click of his tongue, "Put your wand down, girl," he grouched, "No one comes down here looking for trouble. Though no one really comes looking down here. Did I hide the door that well, really?" he gave a huff of a laugh.

"Were you actually waiting on us to find it?" Derek asked him, still rather awestruck himself, "As for what I wish I could tell you, no. There were only speculations about what was down here," he said, shaking his head, "Who are you?"

The spirit pursed their lips in annoyance before answering in a croak, "I don't know."

Derek's brows rose, "Oh. Do you know how you got down here?"

"I was one of the ones who made this room. It was always meant to preserve information of the world, so that no matter the ebb or tide of favor or power, the truth would always remain," they said, "But in an effort to preserve the texts... the last thing I can remember was the spell preserving me as well," he shook his head, "I was old. Obviously," they looked down at themselves, "My mistake only cost me, and none of the young students who helped me in this venture. But I did not expect them to never return," he sounded a little sad at that.

"If you can remember who helped make it, what made you forget who you are?"

"I did not write it down anywhere. And after so long, with no one to say it, I forgot."

"Well... that's depressing." Derek looked over at Tatiana, "Are we allowed to look around?"

"Did I not just say that was the point?"

Derek held up his hands in apology, "Looking around then."