(RoR) Cryptic

[Sheba Snow]

Two broad pans of darkly coloured oil hung a small distance apart on the empty stretch of wall, pale fire trembling on the still, shiny surface.

There had always been rumours about a Room of Requirement, of a Hiding Place, constantly sliding like a spectral ghost between the walls of Hogwarts, thousands of potential rooms gliding past your headboard as you slept. For years there had been small mentions of it in famous witches’ and wizards’ memoirs, fantastical stories about its involvement in the Potter Years and how it was sealed with a curse. Sheba remembered back to her History of Magic lessons with Professor Eriksson, where he had shown them a scratchy, atmospheric ink drawing of Fiendfire bursting around Harry Potter and his companions, Draco Malfoy dangling from his broomstick as they fled that legendary room, the Dark magic sealed inside it forever…

Sheba found it most curious that that particular room, that palace of Everything with its diadems and soiled wigs – its slumbering, furious fire trapped for a century, undisturbed – had not been rediscovered.

“Miss Snow, could I be a nuisance and have you hide these in the Room of Requirement before you head for the Great Hall? The Yorkshire puddings are a must today, I should tell you – although avoid the bowl nearest Mr Hadley…”

Sheba had found this bit of information (about the Room, of course, although the bit about the Yorkshire puddings was sure to prove helpful) particularly thrilling, as she had not believed a word of such a tremendous place for even one moment before Professor Vickers, in all his infinite wisdom and cryptic smiles, had revealed so. She now stood with an armful of battered old textbooks of primitive importance, the location of the Room scribbled in Professor Vickers’s near-illegible handwriting on a small slip of parchment clutched in her fingers.

‘I’ve walked past this a thousand times.’ She said slowly, shaking her head in sedate surprise. The smooth stones, no different to any other, blended into the corridor so ordinarily that Sheba was beginning to wonder if Professor Vickers had made a mistake… or deliberately misled her. Perhaps that explained the accomplished little grin he had on his face as she had left his classroom.

[Edward Niven]

Edward had quickly learned, upon his arrival to Hogwarts, that one could never trust the portraits. As the hanging wall ornaments had not much more to do with their time than gossip, he often found that they lacked the ability to tell a non-fabricated tale. Additionally, they were horrible with directions and the cause of many head aches in Edward's first year.

Edward had ignored them quite easily as he walked down a dim lit corridor. Until, of course, he caught the tail end of a conversation that had managed to spark interest within him - which was hard in itself, as Edward was not often intrigued.

"The Room of Requirement is around here?" He murmured to himself, readjusting his book-bag and turning around to walk in the direction he had just come from. He had read plenty enough stories to fall into the large population of students who wanted to find the room, and his eyes brightened at the prospect.

The portraits had gone on to explain that it was near the end of the hall, but Edward couldn't remember seeing anything particularly magnificent about it. He figured the paintings, as usual, were spouting random nonsense and was slowing down his pace, when he saw a pale silhouette ahead of him. She was like a ghost, really. He wondered if perhaps she were a new addition to their ridiculous hoard of school spirits, but when he got closer he realised she was a student.

A candle flickered as he approached, before dying and relighting itself in a matter of seconds. Edward glanced at the girl again, his dark eyes traveling to the plain stone wall and then the books in her hand. "Suppose you're looking for a place to deposit those," his voice seemed too loud for the suddenly suspicious atmosphere surrounding them.

Letting his mouth turn up in half a smile, he placed a palm on the stone wall, his slender fingers spreading apart slowly. He had already resigned to the fact that the portraits had been fibbing, and was expecting to only spook the girl a bit and lead her to believe the room existed beneath his touch. He turned his head back to her at a slanted angle, his smile broadening, when suddenly he lurched forwards.

The wall had somehow grown soft, like clay, and he pulled his arm away instantly. His fingerprints left a weak depression in the surface, and as Edward stared in alarm, each one of the five widened until they left a large, rectangular door in their wake.

The door was already ajar, washing light against their faces. Edward, momentarily forgetting the other girl even existed - perhaps she was a figment of his imagination - reached out and opened the door the entire way, its hinges creaking deliberately.[/i][/color]

[Sheba Snow]

Somewhere outside the tough brown stone entombing them there was a cold winter sun, glaring and harmless, pressing through the windows of classrooms and bouncing off the churned up paths snaking through the grounds. But as it were, the third floor corridor was one of many corridors in Hogwarts that, without explanation, shifted. Some days mullioned windows stretching from floor to ceiling would line the entire length of it, smoky emerald pigeons huddled in the face of the wind along the ledges, heads tucked against their chests as distracted students moved back and forth behind the glass, not giving a second glance to secret they passed. However, today was one of those days when the windows had been whisked away to catch the evening sun on the West side of the castle, and so Sheba couldn’t help give a stifled little yelp – much resembling a distressed cat – as someone pale and gaunt drifted from the darkness, their hollow eyes piercing the gloom like grey fire.

The books slid about precariously in her arms and Sheba clamped down on them with her fingernails, leaving heavy dents in their worn leather bindings. ‘What? Oh. Professor Vickers sent me here on a job. I’m not doing anything wrong.’ She replied defensively, although trying to keep a polite tone. Was this older boy a prefect? His marble face turned to look at the wall she was staring at. For a moment the firelight trembled in his eyes, a candle burning on a lonesome foggy moor. But quite suddenly it was extinguished, as if his eyes were simply too cold to survive in, absorbed by their piercing depths like water collapsing around a sinking stone.

He sent goosebumps over Sheba’s skin and she took a step back as he approached, his long fingers pressing the wall gingerly. The slightest of smiles curled the corner of his mouth and Sheba scowled, her frosty cheeks colouring pink. ‘You don’t have to mock me. I don’t really believe there’s a magic room there!’ She tired to sound amused.

The boy’s face suddenly contorted in surprise and he jumped away from the wall, staring at his palm as if he had just been burned. For a moment Sheba thought he was teasing her, but as she watched his hand she could see strange smears across his skin, like dirt from the wall, slowly siphoning off. The wall in front of them was waning, the rough grooves and gaps between blocks merging together smoothly, the boy’s thin handprint – was he really so strong? – thickening as though he had pressed it to mud, the spaces between his fingers filling up and expanding as, with a low cavernous rumble, a perfect rectangular door was born.

A soft, well oiled lock clicked loudly and the door opened to stand ajar, ready and waiting.

How did he find it so easily? Sheba titled her head to one side, the books dropping soundlessly to the floor. Although the boy had lost interest in her, the fire was back in his aloof eyes as he stepped toward the door, a cautious curiousness about him. ‘What’s in there?’ Sheba asked, for it was surly his thoughts the Room had been examining. Sheba quickly moved up behind him, standing on tiptoe to peer over his shoulder as he pushed it open slowly, the corridor flooding with warm bright light. ‘Go in.’ She urged, receiving a disapproving glare for standing so close.

The stone floor turned to deep red rugs under their feet, a great circular room, as tall as the Great Hall with a magnificent dome ceiling presenting itself to them. ‘I thought this room was for necessity.’ Sheba raised her eyebrows at the boy in disbelief, for surly silk silver drapes, slender davenports, great chiselled fireplaces, stationed right about the room and brimming with gold swords, shimmering little coins, bejewelled crowns and chain mail laced with diamonds was not necessity. With every crackle of flame from the fireplaces more treasure seemed to belch down to chimneys and spill across the Persian rugs, enchanted dustpans and brushes carefully sweeping them up and adding them neatly to the other mountains of gold.

A monstrous king-sized four poster bed, raised on a platform and carved from what could be none other than the glossy wood of whomping willow, dominated one side of the room. Velvet purple hangings sewn with green and blue dragons were drawn around the magnificent piece of furniture, and Sheba’s eyes grew wide and glassy as she brushed past the boy, drifting over, her mouth slightly open. ‘Why don’t we have beds like these in our dorms?’ She asked mistily, running her fingers across the hangings, quivering like a waterfall of velvet. 'I don't know why people don't just live in here.

A low noise suddenly stirred from behind the veil now, the material moving a second time, as if breathing. It was only a slightly movement but standing so close Sheba could now see it, back and forth slowly, heavy breath. Sheba froze, her fingertips still grazing the hangings as if to move would be unwise. The hidden bed groaned gently, and a great thud sounded, like the tail of an enormous dog hitting the pillows. ‘What did you ask for?’ Sheba mouthed as she looked back at the boy, her fingers closing over the edge of the material without her even realising, drawing it back…

[Edward Niven]

The light had come from broad windows, huge glass panes that showcased the castle grounds from all angles. Edward briefly wondered if they could be seen from the outside, but dismissed the idea at once. The Room was said to give you what you required, and Edward always required privacy.

He definitely did not ask for the large bed that the room offered, however. Although he did live comfortably back home, he was never one for such elaborate furniture. With a frown, Edward came to the conclusion that everything about the room was a rumor, and it didn't give you want you wanted at all.

The girl from earlier suddenly spoke up, surprising him from his stupor and eying the bed while obviously enthralled. "They're tacky," his reply was a little slow, as he was still taking in the room and realising that everything in it must have responded to her more than him. She reached out toward the hangings, green dragons spiraling around her finger tips, and any hesitance she might have had, skillfully masked.

"You're not actually thinking of taking a nap now, here?" Edward bent down to pick up one of her discarded books as if to remind her of her purpose, though was distracted as his dark eyes caught sight of a thick gold chain twisted with rubies. He raised a brow and his gaze followed it to a trail of treasure that spread out to every crevice of the room, spilling down open chests and gathering near the bed in a high mound.

Instead of reaching for her books, his hands gathered one of the chunky rings and he experimentally slipped it on a slender finger. It was real gold and perhaps the most expensive thing he'd ever worn, leaving Edward to wonder why the girl was preoccupied with the bed, rather than the jewels.

As soon as the ring was secured, a low grumble sounded throughout the room and the both of them paused to stare curiously at one another. "I didn't ask for anything," he said, almost guiltily as he pulled the ring off. He didn't bother lowering his voice, the smooth lilt to his voice as prominent as always. "I wouldn't worry anyway; I doubt the room would give us anything danger - "

A snarl cut him off and Edward barely had a chance to register it before a sharp beak followed, snapping down just short of catching his arm. Stumbling back, he widened his gaze the slightest bit and dropped the ring in his haste to hurry to the girl's side. A lion's tail flailed back and forth with vicious vigor, knocking away vast amounts gold chains as another keening cry echoed around them.

"You asked for a Griffin?"[/i][/color]

[Sheba Snow]

Sheba gave him a puzzled frown, for his nonchalant shrug made it clear he had not been thinking of anything as the door had formed. Now that she thought about it he had merely been teasing her. None of this was Sheba’s creation of course – she had imagined the room to be a keeper of spare brooms and cleaning materials, mediocre libraries that borrowed the school’s other books, empty cupboards to stash broken property… the fact that this room could make gold from nothing and give its guest wild luxuries went beyond the Laws of Magic: why did anyone use this room for such simple requirements when it was capable of making them rich?

The hangings held apart by her hands were suddenly torn down viciously, a furious great eagle-like cry thundering over Sheba’s head as monstrous wings shook the heavy bed frame, the gust created nearly knocking her to the ground. Sheba looked up to see a gleaming, muscular griffin rearing high over her, its large black eyes fixed coldly upon the Slytherin.

‘Watch out!’ She shouted uselessly as it leapt swiftly from the bed and toward the boy, the blunt curve of one of its shiny talons hitting Sheba in the nose and sending her down onto her back. A heavy ring clattered to the floor from the boy’s hand as he dived out of its hellish path. ‘It’s not mine – I don’t even like dogs.’ Sheba replied as the griffin turned to face them, a huge wave of coins being whipped up by its wings as it beat them, a suit of silver armour blowing over. ‘Did you try to take that ring?’ She asked breathlessly as the two of them crawled hurriedly under the bed, not a moment too late as two sets of dagger-sharp talons sliced against the space they had just been huddled.

Sheba realised the room’s offerings had been too good to be true. It had always been spoken of with such favour and fondness, a place of benevolence – yet why had it invited Sheba and this presumably innocent Slytherin into its heart, only to punish them with its guard dog?

The two of them threw their arms over their heads as the mattress groaned agonisingly, the creature having jumped up above them. It was throwing its weight around, threatening to crush them, its deafening shrieks worsening. ‘Do you know how to get us out of here?’ Sheba shuffled up next to him, the bed pressing down on their backs more and more.

Something flitted between their faces suddenly, what looked like a great white dragonfly. Sheba flinched, the two of them struggling to avoid it as it zoomed back under the bed a second time, this time settling down in a crumpled mess before them. It was indeed a dragonfly – an origami one made of paper. The Gryffindor and Slytherin shared a mutually suspicious look before quickly being reminded of the deadly griffin raging above them: a black talon speared through the mattress and springs at last, chopping off a small chunk of the boy’s hair. ‘Hurry!’ Sheba and the boy scrambled clumsily out from under the bed, which was just about ready to collapse.

Before they had time to find more cover the paper rose before them, folding itself into a pair of giant, elegant lips. “Edward Niven and Sheba Snow…” It began in a voice that sounded like a boy and a girl reading out together.

The two of them looked round at the griffin, wondering how the room could be wasting their time with a formal announcement when its pet was trying to eat them. The beast, unaware that they had escaped from under one side of the bed, had its back to them and was still trying to break through the matress, feathers and springs flying everywhere. When Sheba pushed Edward's shoulder in an attempt to flee toward the door, two ornate gold throwns - King and Queen size - studded with carved jewels, suddenly galloped up behind them, knocking their feet from under them and forcing them to sit down.

"Please, this won't take a moment." Said the girl's voice.

"Just ignore Felix." Added the boy's.

[Edward Niven]

Edward's eyes, unusually wide and expressive, traveled past the enormous creature and landed on the heavy gold band. "Ring? I might have tried it on," he answered dully, wincing at the throb beneath his knees where the chair had knocked him down. The Griffin let out another long howl, giant wings fluttering in distress as his entire beat lodged itself in a wide hole, seemingly stuck.

"Felix?" He added warily, as the large pair of lips hovering just above their heads suddenly jerked to dodge a large plank of wood. The voices did not sound prestige like he expected the owner of such wealth to be, and it was very rare for one to name their guard-dog - especially something so fond as Felix.

Dropping his gaze to the ground where the Griffin was huddled, following a new strategy and trying to look under the bed with it's beady eyes, Edward ran a hand through his newly disheveled and uneven hair. "Whoever they are," He slanted his head toward the pursed lips, "Can't keep us here. We need to get out before that thing destroys us like it did that bed."

A sort of husky laugh rumbled through the room as Edward struggled to get off the chair. "Unfortunately we can, mate." As soon as the male's voice faded, a spindly rope tied itself around both Edward's and Sheba's wrists securely. "You see, the room isn't following either of your requirements. It's following ours."


"Well, ours and Felix's," the girl added, a fondness creeping into her voice.

Edward's fingers uncurled and lay restlessly on the arm of the chair. He sent a stony look to the grinning lips before turning to Sheba, puzzled. The room had grown strangely silent and the Griffin was no longer vandalizing the room. Instead, his eyes had grown bright as they landed on the two of them strapped to their chairs.

In a split second, it was on its hind legs and galloping toward them with purpose. Sheba and Edward immediately began to tug on the ropes again, rocking the chairs with frantic movements. Edward squeezed his eyes shut, looking away as a gust of wind blew at them, blowing his hair in all directions.

Though, the final hit never came. Suspiciously opening an eye, Edward stared in disbelief as the Griffin made a low whining noise deep within its throat and nuzzled the pair of lips gently. And sure enough, nestled on the beast's neck was a smart collar with a silver nameplate that clearly said: Felix.

"He's such a good boy," the girl's voice was wistful as it echoed in the trashed room. Felix made another throaty whine, as if responding to the compliment.

"Of course you'd say that just after he destroyed the entire room, Loren." There was a definite grin in the boy's voice.

Felix's eyes grew mischievous as if he were sharing a personal joke. Edward sat still in the uncomfortable seat, though sent Sheba a skeptical look.

"He didn't mean to," the girl - Loren - defended. "He was only trying to protect his treasure...."[/i][/color]

[Sheba Snow]

Sheba shot Edward a twisted, non-amused smile as he gave a noncommittal answer, apparently disinterested in starting a discussion on whose fault this all was – although, Sheba thought, it was quite obviously his (or, possibly, Professor Vickers). Two minutes ago they had been wandering alone, minding their own business – now they were tied to chairs by a psychotic room that had a split personality, one supposedly called Loren. ‘This is most peculiar.’ Sheba said irritably as she and Edward shared a look of tired aspiration. Now that the threat of Felix the Griffin was quelled, it seemed more appropriate to sit there in annoyance rather than fright.

“Yes, I imagine it is,” said the boy, a devious smile in his voice. “But you’ll get used to it.”

“He really is a big softie once you get to know him. Aren’t you, Felix?” Loren cooed, babying the magical animal. For a moment the mouth seemed to switch to the boy’s expression, who gave a lopsided grin.

‘Get used to what?’ Sheba asked doubtfully, looking briefly at Edward and wondering why she was agreeing to talk to a spell. ‘And get to know who? Him?’ She scrutinised Felix, although lightly, still conscious that even the slightest insult might rouse his temper again. Despite his beastly appearance, massive claws and paws and razor sharp beak, he certainly seemed to have intelligence about him now that his attention was focused upon the enchanted parchment, his studious dark eyes watching it obediently. Sheba thought to mutter ‘good boy’, but decided against patronising it whilst they were still tied up. It was rather bizarre that the voices, which seemed so cheerful and reasonable, felt it necessarily to hold them prisoner. It actually made them somewhat sinister. Edward still had an expression of mild, almost bored surprise, which made Sheba feel a little bit better – this whole thing was beginning to feel like a joke.

“But what were we saying, Ian?” Loren asked.

‘Ian’ laughed. “Oh yes – the room. Again, as you’ve already found out, the room is following our requirements, not yours.” The lips flew over to hover on the other side of Felix’s head, as if looking at him. “And this, as you’ve also probably gathered, is Felix.”

“He’s our pet griffin.” Loren beamed.

“Or was. Coincidentally…” Ian mused, a dark grin spreading across the lips. “Loren and I met under similar circumstances as you two – looking for a place to hide, finding Felix instead. He was none too pleased to meet us either, mate.” The mouth turned to Edward, who still didn’t look impressed. Felix had now sat back on his solid hind quarters, nipping his beak through the mane of feathers down his back, grooming himself.

Sheba tilted her head to one side, growing increasingly paranoid. ‘Who are you – and why aren’t you here looking after him if he belongs to you?’ She questioned in annoyance, trying to raise her hands but only having the bounds tighten themselves. ‘And let us go! Tell them, Edward.’ She turned to the Slytherin, glaring at him expectantly.

[Edward Niven]

Edward had long since given up his struggle with the ropes securing his wrists. It was obvious the voices weren’t lying about the room’s intent, as whenever he made to move, the rough material tightened. Instead, he concentrated on Felix who had begun to walk around in a small circle, nudging various pieces of gold and stone with his sharp beak.

“I’m not exactly in the position to tell them, anything,” Edward glanced over at Sheba, his fingers wiggling slightly in their confines, as if reminding her that he was trapped as well. The expression on his face was slowly dissolving into a mixture of irritation and resignation as he studied the room that was steadily rebuilding itself. He watched with a renewed curiosity as the torn bed sewed itself together, a few gems landing gently onto the padded surface as if they had fallen from the ceiling.

Something wasn’t quite right, however. Tossing his hair out of his eyes to get a better look, Edward squinted past the Griffin and saw a layer of mist forming against the far wall. On it there was a flickering image which seemed to shift back and forth from a wide fireplace to an ancient-looking key. “Do you see that?” He whispered while leaning toward Sheba, as the paper lips fought over which expression to use.

“We do.” Ian and Loren said in unison suddenly, their voices having grown a slight echo.

Edward winced, realising there were going to be no private conversations between him and his captive – especially not while they were trapped.

“The Room is answering your question for us,” Loren went on to say. The lips had stopped zooming around their heads but instead began to glide toward the wall where the screen of mist was growing stronger. The two chairs jerked forward to follow the pair of lips, bringing them closer to the visual. “It must have sensed Ian was getting lazy.” The teasing voice only made the abstract personalities seem more bizarre than before, and Edward was most relieved to feel his chair come to a stop.

Heady laughter surrounded them for a brief moment, before it disappeared beneath the roaring of the fireplace’s illusion. In fact, it wasn’t just one fireplace, but an incredible amount – all just as enormous as the last. The image flickered back to the key, certain runes glowing on the rusted grip. Almost instantly, the crackling of the fireplace disappeared and was replaced with an eerie and fluid range of notes that created the most mordant noise Edward had ever heard.

“Felix still has a purpose,” Ian’s voice had grown somewhat somber. “And so do the both of you.”[/i][/color]

[Sheba Snow]

Sheba raised her feet off the ground as the two thrones suddenly stretched their clawed feet and lumbered after Ian and Loren. The wall was waning and merging, the stone rippling in and out of existence as a smooth, milky mist swirled in a great circle like a portal before them, bizarre images flickering silently. It was hard to see all the spectral visions clearly, the lips continuing to glide back and forth distracting, but Sheba doubted they would have made much sense even if she could see them properly.

Edward too was tilting his head this way and that, squinting to make sense of the hundred fireplaces in a sinister, cavernous room, so tall that the ceiling melted into blackness. The burning grates thinned to form silvery, crooked trees and the Forbidden Forest, the wet earth gaping to reveal seven doors hidden deep below the forest floor, an eerie light throbbing from one. Edward said something but Sheba could only nod slowly, hypnotised by its presence, an ancient rune covered key appearing. The dirty moonstones on its handle stared back at her like blind eyes, although she got the distinct impression they could see her perfectly.

Her head was beginning to hurt from the bizarre throbbing of the mist and Sheba squeezed her eyes shut tight, shaking her head to rid herself of its unearthly power over her. ‘But what are we supposed to do?’ She asked, looking at Edward pointedly. ‘And what do you mean Felix has a purpose? What’s he in the Room of Requirement for, exactly?’ It occurred to her now that Griffins had always had a purpose: to guard whatever wizards deemed valuable enough. The Gryffindor glanced around the room at the treasure, the firelight reflecting of it brilliantly. Wasn’t this his purpose?

“Ian and me put him in here.” Loren said.

“It was no easy task, I can tell you.” Ian added, turning to face them with a wry grin. “This was when he really didn’t like us.”

‘So he’s guarding all this? Whose is it?’

Loren laughed. “This, amazingly enough, is what the Room conjured to give Felix something to do. Impressive, isn’t it? We didn’t dare try and take any of it though.” She warned. “No, what he’s really guarding is much less spectacular.” The mist throbbed once more, drawing Edward and Sheba’s attention involuntarily toward it. The symbol coated key loomed and Sheba frowned forebodingly, wondering why the mere sight of it was having such a profound affect on her. It was as if it were in the Room somewhere with them. “We found this key with Felix. We actually only know as much about it as you two do at this point.”

“Which is nothing, basically.” Ian sighed light heartedly, hovering next to Edward’s shoulder as if he was leaning on it, had he had an elbow of course. “It opens a door obviously, but the only problem is – where in Hogwarts is there a door that looks like that?”

Felix, who had been uncharacteristically quiet for the last couple of minutes, apparently sorting a small pile of gems by colour into groups, suddenly looked toward the door, a low, threatening hiss rumbling from deep within his throat. His black eyes had narrowed darkly and he rose, talons flexing as he stalking cautiously toward the door, as if seeing something on the other side. “Oh Felix, it’s just the wind!” Loren tutted before turning to Sheba with a simpering smile. “He acts all tough but he’s such a scaredy cat really.”

Ian grinned. “He won’t even let house elves in.”

The thrones lurched, turning Edward and Sheba so they could no longer eye Felix and the door anxiously. “But yes, the key –“ The mouth opened wide now, and out of thin air belched a massive, rusted key into Sheba’s lap, Ian adding a fake burp for effect. “It’ll take Felix a while to get used to you, but we suggest giving him this back. It might make him trust you a little more if he thinks you’re not interested in it.” Loren smiled.

“There is one thing we think might hold some answers for you, though.” Ian was serious again, grimacing as Felix squawked angrily at the door once more. “The seven doors in the mist, did you see them? Loren and me never looked at them properly… there was something about them. We think the key might fit one of those. You’ll find an entrance at the base of an old willow tree –“

There was a fierce boom suddenly, the whole room – bed, treasure, Edward and Sheba – shuddering violently as the floor itself shifted under their feet, gold and jewels sliding off their mountains like landslides as the fireplaces groaned, the cement joints in the stone walls grinding against each other like a loose puzzle, dust and grit trickling from the ceiling. The thrones tottered about uneasily like spooked horses, Edward and Sheba struggling to undo the bounds, which too seemed nervous, tightening themselves as if clinging to them for support. ‘What was that?’ Sheba asked exasperatedly, leaning round to stare wide eyed at Felix and the door, which was groaning agonisingly...

[Linus Wells]

Linus glared at the misbehaving portrait, his paintbrush flowing elegantly along her gown. A sinister feeling always crept up along his ribs when he wiped away a painting's existence, and the excess paint dripped down the framework almost symbolizing the grieving girl's blood.

"Hogwarts never destroyed a portrait - Not until you came around." There was a resignation in the woman's voice and Linus' lip twitched upwards in a sharp smile.

He didn't bother repying, but instead layered on a thick coat of navy against her last remaining limb. The silence was deafening as his brush fumbled against the canvas, until finally her wilting grey gaze was gone.

"Sweet dreams." He whispered, his clear eyes washing over the twilight landscape that replaced the young witch. The portraits nearby had grown quiet, waiting for Linus to leave. He granted them their wish, picking up his palette and wiping his hands on his dark green trousers.

The Hallways were dark and the rare windows adorning the walls let in minimal light, suggesting he had been at his task for well over an hour. He scowled slightly, remembering his run in with Vickers who seemed to be determined to stall him. He would have been in the Room of Requirement long ago if the Professor hadn't shown him his latest trinket. He was certain Allion knew his weakness for magic, as he always seemed to show Linus certain forms of Divination that even a squib could do.

Reaching the blank stone wall, Linus rolled up his sleeves and ridiculously paced across it three times. He briefly rolled his eyes on his last turn, stopping and waiting for the usual storage room to appear. It held all of his possessions, ones he deemed to important to leave in his bedroom - or perhaps, too illegal.

However, instead of the usual iron-barred door appearing, a wide rectangle formed against the wall, and it seemed to be missing a doorknob. Linus frowned and pressed his ears against it, coughing in surprise as the knob finally grew and punched him against the stomach.

"What on Earth?" His silky voice was laced with curiosity as he griped the door knob, hissing in surprise at how it seemed to burn the skin on his fingers. Almost instantly afterwards, it grew startlingly cold and flickered into a new door with an unreadable rune engraved on its surface.

The door flickered again, seven times, before disappearing and leaving the wall as normal as before. Linus stared dumbstruck, his fingers still protesting in pain and his supplies clattered at his feet. He took a step back, ready to run away from the wonders of magic he so craved, when the wall morphed into a door-less keyhole. It was as large as his body and through it, he could see the entire scene of what was in the Room of Requirement before him.

Blinking rapidly, his mouth growing slack, he turned himself sideways and slipped through the overgrown keyhole feeling as though he was in a bizarre version of Alice in Wonderland.

[Edward Niven]

Edward winced as the bonds tightened, his fingers tensing in an effort to stop the numbness crawling up his arms. "I'd love to tell you," he breathed, his entire body growing rigid as the circulation was cut from his wrists. "But I'm not exactly an expert when it comes to caving architecture." Sending a look toward the Griffin, whose eyes were alert and glittering with warning, Edward felt a heavy weight settle in his gut.

Just as the ropes grew unbearably tight, the two of them thrashing slightly against their thrones in pain, the thread disappeared. A silence seemed to occupy the room, Felix haunching low and flexing his claws and the former voices quiet in spite of themselves. In fact, the haunting music was gone, replaced instead by a faint popping noise which no one took notice of.

"Wait," Edward turned in his seat, peering over the back of the chair. The silence was strangely distant, as if the voices had never existed. "Where did they go?"

The fluttering noise of the lips had disappeared, along with Ian and Loren, leaving both Edward and Sheba alone with the menacing animal. It seemed occupied still with the bare wall and Edward hoped the bodiless girl was correct in assuming he was just easily frightened.

Slipping off his seat, Edward raised his eyebrows slightly toward Sheba as if asking if she was coming, before leading them to the picturesque fog. It had grown remarkably thin with the images gone from it's wide centre, and suddenly growing curious, Edward reached out a hand and collected the weightless mist in his palm.

Instantly it disappeared, the faintest popping noise emitting into the air as it did. Edward looked at Sheba, dark eyes widening in question, before noticing the key in her hand. He wondered briefly why it was given to her, scowling the slightest bit at how he was deemed untrustworthy because of his lure to the ring from before, but the wonderment escaped him as soon as the previously ornate wall across them became void of jewels in a mere second.

"Where's it all going?" Edward reached down to take a silver locket into his hand, but pulled back at the last minute, eying the Griffin warily. Though in a second, just as everything seemed to be, it disappeared without a trace. The Griffin became steadily aware of the lacklustre room, his neck craning to the ceiling where the never-ending supply of gold and gems had grown dry. The howl that followed the discovery shook the room again.

Impulsively, Edward grabbed for the key remembering Loren's advice, but the quaking of the room caused him to knock into Sheba instead. They both fell to the barren floor, noticing that there was not one jewel left and that the shaking hadn't stopped. "It's all gone," Edward realised, his eyes reaching the Griffin who was once again occupied with the wall, talons scratching terribly against it. "The voices - they summoned the gold and now that they're not here, it isn't either."

A giant keyhole formed just in front of Felix, who Edward had finally come to admit was an intelligent and intuitive creature. His breath seemed to stop, his eyes reaching Sheba's slowly as they lay sprawled on the ground when a figure squeezed through the opening.

As soon as the shadow was detected, a deafening yell echoed off the walls and Edward's eyes squeezed shut in pain as it rang against his eardrum. "Suppose it's just seen Felix," he whispered dryly.[/color][/i]

[Sheba Snow]

‘Ooow…’ Sheba winced as the rough bounds slackened, the circulation returning to her fingers and giving her enough sensation in her skin to realise they’d grazed her heavily. The room’s terrifying grinding had now been replaced by artificially loud pops and bizarre, soft explosions. Coins and jewels rose into the air as weightless as bubbles, and Sheba looked on in amazement as the many suits of armour groaned to life like zombies, stretching lazily before drawing their swords.

‘Get back!’ Sheba pulled Edward back by his elbows, barely catching a glimpse of the misty portal evaporating as Edward swept his fingers through it. The knights were swinging their weapons about, the bubble-like treasure popping away into nothing as they cut through the air. One plunged his sword into the carved fireplaces while another slashed at the hangings on the bed, but nothing broke nor smashed. The objects simply vanished at the slightest touch.

‘What about the voices?’ Sheba snapped impatiently, annoyed that Edward was more interested in an origami spell than the mild destruction before them. But she too quickly realised that the voices had gone, coming to the same conclusion as Edward: the treasure was disappearing with its conjurers. The knights were acting as the room’s agents.

Felix was looking around wildly in search of Ian and Loren in between trying to defend his gold from the emotionless knights. He scratched and bit at their armour viciously but they simply walked on by, taking his furniture like mute, metal bailiffs, his fierce blows barely making them loose their balance. ‘Oh, the poor thing.’ Sheba whispered pityingly as she studied Felix’s expression, trauma written across his face as he dived about, his fearsome cries fraught with distress.

‘Oy!’ Sheba gasped as she felt the key snatched from her hand, Edward holding it before him. ‘I think you’ll find they gave it to me.’ Sheba declared reproachfully as she attempted to take it back, but the room gave a distinctly violent lurch, forcing them to topple to the ground. Even the windows and burning torches illuminating the room were extinguishing and disappearing now, plunging them into an eerie twilight. Sheba attempted to stand up but an echoing click, like the turning on a key in a lock, suddenly filled the room, distracting her. Looking toward the door it was moulding like putty into the shape of a man-sized keyhole, the silhouette of someone emerging…

Sheba instantly recognised the man, although she didn’t know his name. No adult could exist in Hogwarts without being noticed. If they were not a teacher then they were especially unusual, most of the time meaning trouble as they could only be ministry officials or various grounds men, who were a particularly grumpy strain. This man was unique however – Sheba often caught glimpses of him at the ends of long, deserted corridors, blending into the shadows, his piercing, empty eyes looking right through her. The only times he truly let himself be noticed was when he would be kneeling in front of a painting, renewing the youth of an elderly portrait, or, most disturbingly, eliminating subjects entirely. Some of the people in the portraits would take their end with dignity, but many times Sheba had covered her ears as she lay in bed at night, listening to witches and wizards wailing forlornly as their faces were washed away, suffocating as their mouths were smeared with poisonous paint. He always did the worst deeds by night, but that made no difference.

Now he stood half in half out, staring up in disbelief at the seven foot tall prime Griffin rearing before him, talons sharpened by the lashed stones. The last fireplace was executed by the last knight, and Sheba watch in horror as it attempt to turn its sword on itself. ‘Don’t go!’ Sheba shouted as she and Edward climbed to their feet. ‘Please help him!’ She pleaded desperately, pointing at the painter.

The room shuddered, threatening to ignore her, but the knight now strode unfussed over to Felix and the man, brandishing its sword heroically in the face of Felix, jabbing it at the air to ward him off. Felix cried depressingly, walking backwards with glassy eyes, the loss of Ian and Loren combined with his own treasure turning on him had taken its toll, and he sat down heavily, a throaty, sad moan leaving him. ‘Thank Merlin…’ Sheba sighed in relief, smiling at Edward. She then remembered the key. ‘Now give it back, or I’ll –‘

The armour had suddenly grabbed the man, holding him by the shoulders and pulling him into the room brutishly. The keyhole shrunk back to normal size, although the rest of the door remained absent, trapping them. ‘What are you doing?’ Sheba demanded as the knight continued to manhandle the man, almost as if he were an enemy. ‘How did you get in here? Did the voices choose you too?’ She asked him carefully as he was bought forward, one arm twisted behind his back.

[Linus Wells]

Linus felt his arm twist in the knight's grip, and he grit his teeth trying to pull away. His face stung with a huge gash swiping across his cheek from the beginning of his forehead to the corner of his mouth, and he could feel warm blood falling onto his usually pristine shirt. He groaned, frenzied eyes staring at Sheba accusingly, wracking his body in the knight's grip again.

"You asked the room for a Griffin?" Linus sneered, turning back to the dejected beast who was wilting like the face of his portraits often did. He made to pull away from the knight again, but the metal fingers sunk into his fleshy arms making him wince. "And a murderous knight?"

He studied the two students, his lip continuing to curl sinisterly. "You're both obviously insane," he said, growing sick of the metallic pinching. He was overcome with the dark thoughts of magic, and how if he had a wand he'd be able to easily blast the annoying hoard of metal off of him. "Don't just stand there questioning me!" His voice had grown shaken with anger. "Banish this thing away!"

Linus felt the hold only grow tighter around him, and turned his face away, staring pointedly at the boy. He was a Slytherin, he wouldn't care for questioning Linus of his morals or motives. "Why should I explain my reasons for being in the Room if I haven't pried in yours," he said reasonably, his smooth voice returning. His gaze traveled across their chaffed wrists and identical skeptic faces, and he studied them closely.

In fact, if Linus hadn't been a painter and focused so intently on details, he would never have seen the ancient key in the Slytherin's hands. His though process was overcome with the possibilities of it, and rumors of treasure he had come to Hogwarts for in the first place. His eyes glittered as he walked cautiously toward them, flinging back as the knight disagreed.

"Although, I must say - it's unfortunate really," Linus, even captured, managed to look dangerous. "I have every right to be here, but you're merely two students, it would be awful if someone were to find out about your Griffin. Especially after this," he traced a finger over his gash, blood clinging to his skin. "I'm certain the Ministry wouldn't want such a creature around Hogwarts."

The knight had grown still around him, and the room seemed to be shrinking. The Griffin wailed quietly, as if it understood their conversation and could feel the walls closing in. "But, no one has to know about this occurrence, at least..." Linus smirked, vacant eyes landing on the key between their hands. "Not for a price."

[Edward Niven]

Edward arched a brow as the worn figure came into view, his filthy clothes and disheveled appearance obviously meaning he'd not been as lucky as they where Felix was involved - if you could call him and Sheba lucky, being thrown into the absurd situation.

He for one had to agree, however. They had no business in why the man was there, and though Edward was not breaking any rules, he did not find the idea of divulging his own bland secrets appealing. He was about to voice his opinion to Sheba, raising a brow at her inquisitive nature, when the stranger suddenly grew pensive in his thoughts, paying fine attention to their surroundings.

"We can't blast it away - what if he brings in reinforcements," Edward said with a slight scowl, his eyes following the eerie gaze of their 'prisoner' to Felix, whose talons were scratching the stone floor, evoking piercing noises. "But, it does listen to you, Sheba," he said calmly, remembering how it had halted in its own destruction to consider the Gryffindor's pleading. "Just stereotypical of a knight, isn't it," he said with almost a smile, placed on his face in spite of the situation. "Playing out heroic acts for a damsel in distress."

The man was still quiet, and the smile slipped off Edward's face and turned into a concentrated frown. When the clear eyes focused on them again, they seemed smug and manipulative. Listening to the proposition, or blackmail really, Edward crossed his arms, eyes narrowing.

He gripped the key with more force, ignoring Sheba's insistence to return it to her. He remembered the floating voices and how they had persisted that Felix was important, and Edward who had never owned anything of intrigue or significant importance, felt a sort of responsibility. A tug of purpose that he couldn't quite suffocate. It was clear he didn't want the Griffin to be sent away, and the thought and need for Felix made him violently confused.

"Fine, take it," he said, without discussing it with Sheba though not making any move to hand it over. "But," his eyes traveled to Felix a bit uneasily. "You have no clue what to do with it, we'll show you." He avoided looking at Sheba. The truth was, he wanted to see the doors for himself, and if they were to give up the key, that possibility would be forever taken away. "And, the griffin is coming." He finished simply.[/color]

[Sheba Snow]

‘Damsel my foot.’ Sheba remarked callously, her cheeks tingeing pink a little as she eyed the knight, whom just shrugged apologetically.

She now looked at the man. Despite the pain that must’ve been throbbing in his shoulder from the knight’s firm hold, he remained unnervingly composed, his bright cold eyes sweeping over Edward and Sheba calculatingly, taking in all their details. His eyes lingered for the longest on the key, which Edward was peacefully refusing to return. Although Ian and Loren – whoever they were – had entrusted both of them with it, Sheba had yet to find any reason to trust this complacent Slytherin. The more she watched it resting in his palm the more unsafe it looked, as though he might pocket it or drop it down a drain.

‘I came to the Room for an honest reason,’ She suddenly said to the man, narrowing her eyes at his threat. Of course, her expression soon changed to a much more humble one upon the mention of Felix. ‘You can’t frighten us.’ She replied, the knight sensing her fear and tightening its hold. She gave Edward a smug, fleeting smile. ‘We’ll just hide him.’

Edward was quietly thoughtful; his calm eyes looking from Felix to the key to the man in much the same way their prisoner had done, weighing things up. He seemed quite content to do business with the man. ‘Hang on a minute!’ She barked, standing between Edward and the man angrily. She jabbed her finger in Edward’s chest, pushing him backwards and away from the painter until they were a little out of ear shot. She crossed her arms. ‘It’s mine too, you know – we’ve only had it five minutes and you’re already trying to give it away to save your own skin?’ She thought to add “typical Slytherin”, but decided against it. ‘The key isn’t even ours anyway, it’s Felix’s! And don’t you want to look after him? I’d be happy to do it myself if you really think it’s too much bother.’ She said, half-accusingly, half-hopingly. Edward gave her a look of finality that she had a hard time retaliating too.

The knight seemed confused as to who to listen to, as both Sheba and Edward were apparently its new masters. Upon Edward’s decision that the man was an associate, it had made to let him go, but now that Sheba was protesting once more it had reapplied its grip. Felix was skulking around the edge of the room, a miserable grimace on his face as he scratched the ground, hoping there might be a few specs of gold fallen down the cracks in the floor. As much as Sheba wanted to make sure no one found out about him she could tell the man would live up to his word and hand them in if they didn’t do as he wished. It occurred to her that perhaps Edward wasn’t being selfish or reckless, and that he was simply looking out for Felix and Sheba by appeasing the man. But she still wasn’t convinced.

‘Alright, fine.’ She suddenly said, turning to look back at the man, a stern, mistrustful glare on her face. ‘We’ll take you to the doors if it’ll stop you grassing on Felix – but this doesn’t mean we’re giving it you permanently. We can’t, I don’t think. That enchanted parchment looked like a magical contract to me…’

Sheba rubbed her temple, almost stopping to think how she had got into this mess, but knew it’d be stupid to get herself into a state trying to work it all out. They’d all just have to go with it. ‘You can let him go… I think he’s one of us now.’ She said to the knight awkwardly. The knight looked long and hard at the man for a moment, apparently making up its own mind, before slowly stepping back and crossing his arms. ‘Who are you anyway? I know you’re that ghastly portrait painter, but nothing else.’ She huffed. If he was going to be expected to introduce himself, Sheba supposed she’d have to do. ‘I’m Sheba and he’s Edward, apparently. And that… is Felix.’