HP: A Magical Journey-Novel

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Quinn’s feet touched the road. He saw the achingly familiar Hogsmeade High Street: dark shop fronts, and the outline of black mountains beyond the village, and the curve in the road ahead that led off toward Hogwarts. He didn’t take that curve and instead took the opposite path and moved to the periphery of the town, stopping in front of a dark and gloomy building in the mostly upbeat town.

He swiped his hand, and there was a grinding of bolts behind the door. The dark door opened on the narrow street, and he stepped through after scanning the street once.

He saw, by the stuttering light of a single candle, the grubby, sawdust-strewn bar of the Hog’s Head Inn. He walked behind the counter and through a second doorway, which led to a rickety wooden staircase that he climbed after looking everywhere else. The stairs opened onto a sitting room with a threadbare carpet and a small fireplace, above which hung a single large oil painting of a blonde girl who gazed out at the room with a kind of vacant sweetness.

The barman-owner of Hog’s Head wasn’t here anymore. Aberforth Dumbledore had done a great job of distancing himself from the Dumbledore name— he had been let out with other men without Voldemort holding him back to keep leverage against big brother Albus. It was fortunate. He didn’t want Aberforth to become Albus’ weakness.

Quinn’s eyes traveled to the painting of the girl over the mantelpiece. It was the only picture in the room. There was no photograph of Albus Dumbledore nor of anyone else. It was the sister. Youngest of the three Dumbledore siblings, Ariana Dumbledore. Attacked at the tender age of six, set upon by three Muggle boys. They’d seen her doing magic, spying through the back garden hedge: She was a kid; she couldn’t control it; no magical child can at that age— except if they were like Quinn, who sought out magic and actively tried to get back it.

What the boys saw scared them. . . They forced their way through the hedge, and when she couldn’t show them the trick, they got a bit carried away trying to stop the little freak from doing it. What the children did, destroyed her: she was never the same again. She wouldn’t use magic, but she couldn’t get rid of it; it turned inward and drove her mad, it exploded out of her when she couldn’t control it, and at times she was strange and dangerous. But mostly, she was sweet and scared and harmless._.

Quinn remembered how Ariana and her story were described. Everything could be summed up with a single word: Obscurial. An Obscurus was the manifestation of the repressed energy of a young magical child— known as an Obscurial. Described as a “dark” and “parasitic” force, an Obscurus was created when the wizard child in question consciously attempted to repress their magical abilities or were forced to do so through physical or psychological abuse. This energy could manifest itself as a separate entity that could erupt in violent, destructive fury.

Ariana had once lost control over her magic and ended up killing her mother in an Obscurial rage. Then the poor little girl died in a three-way battle between her brothers and Grindelwald.

“Will you let me in, please,” he said to the girl in the portrait. The girl, however, didn’t move. . . simply staring at him with curious eyes. He tried again, “I want to get into Hogwarts; may I pass?” He had tested every secret pathway he knew could lead into Hogwarts, but the all-out defense had blocked everything. The path in Hog’s Head was the only one he knew could work.

Portrait-Ariana again didn’t move. She continued to gaze at him like a curious child, as if he was an oddity that she had encountered for the first time. He looked down, and while his clothes were out of the ordinary, at least he wasn’t wearing his mask in his presence. He was sure she wouldn’t have looked at him if he had used his Invisible Vigilante’s voice.

“Me asking won’t work, now would it,” he sighed. Quinn unclasped the flap on one of his pockets and summoned one of the objects inside into his palm. It was a palm-sized framed portrait. He expanded it back to its original size and hung it beside Ariana’s portrait as she looked on with an inquisitive gaze. In comparison to the simpler frame of Ariana’s portrait, the one that Quinn had hung was flamboyant, gilded with gold with intricate design.

“Hey, wake up; I have a job for you,” Quinn knocked on the pitch-black portrait, and the pitch-black painting turned into the image of Merlin sitting inside a lavish room, dressed in comfy robes. The portrait had changed quite a lot since Quinn had met Merlin, and every time he went to see the portrait, it would change a little bit. Magical portraits weren’t supposed to change like this, but the master of magic had enchanted his post-mortem portrait to be special like him.

“Oh, now that’s a surprise,” Merlin’s eyes shone with interest. It happened every time Quinn interacted with him. The portrait didn’t handle boredom well and always seemed to be wanting to do something. “What does the great child prodigy wants from this old fella?”

“Don’t start now,” sighed Quinn. He lifted his hand again to cast magic, and Merlin turned his head to look to the left towards Ariana’s portrait. Quinn had just connected both portraits, allowing Merlin to exit his and go into her. It was easy with the enchantments placed by the real Merlin on his portrait.

“Who is the girl?”

“Ariana Dumbledore.”

“Dumbledore? Is she related to the Headmaster?”

“Younger sister.”

“What do you want with his younger sister’s portrait?”

“Her portrait is special, you can sense, correct?”

“Yes. . . yes, I can sense it,” Merlin got up from his desk and made his way to the edge of his frame and disappeared. Quinn moved his eyes to Ariana’s, and Merlin appeared into her’s from the edge. The little lady took a step back, acting cautiously for the first time. “What’s special about this one? There’s something. . .”

“Her portrait is an entrance to Hogwarts. She isn’t opening the path to me. I don’t want to be. . . rough, so can you convince her to open it up.”

Merlin joined his hands, touching palms, and kept his eyes on Ariana. When he separated them, there was a charming, cute bluejay sitting on his palm. The bird seemed to do the trick as Ariana forgot her caution and hoped her way to Merlin, who handed her the bird.

“Why don’t you use one of the other entries?” said Merlin, watching Ariana with a kind smile.

“Voldemort has taken over Hogsmeade. Dumbledore activated the Hogwarts defense, and that locked up every path I knew. She’s the only one who can let me in, so please. . . and quickly.”

Merlin looked at Quinn, Ariana slipping out of his attention as soon as the words left Quinn’s mouth. “Tell me more about this,” said Merlin, moving closer to Quinn.

“Can’t we do it later, when I have the time? If you can’t tell, I’m swamped.”

Merlin continued to look at Quinn. Quinn sighed and took a minute to explain the situation to Merlin and then took three more to answer his answer. “Now, can you get her to open the way?” said Quinn.

Merlin smiled and faced Ariana. He began whispering to the girl, and she looked at Quinn a couple of times. Quinn couldn’t tell what they were talking about, so he just smiled and waved.

After a couple minutes, Ariana nodded, smiled, and walked away, not as people in portraits usually did, out of the sides of their frames, but along what seemed to be a long tunnel painted behind her. They watched her slight figure retreating until finally, she was swallowed by the darkness.

“Can I roam inside the castle?” Merlin asked as they waited.

“Sure, I don’t mind. But I’ll be removing your portrait from here, in case, Voldemort wipes out the village. I will be back to get you when all this is over; until then, you’ll be inside Hogwarts.”

“Fine by me.”

A tiny white dot had reappeared at the end of the painted tunnel, and now Ariana was walking back toward them, growing bigger and bigger as she came. But there was somebody else with her now, someone taller than she was, holding her hand, looking confused. Her hair was the blonde he loved, and her blue eyes were an electric blue that he had looked into countless times. Larger and larger the two figures grew until only their heads and shoulders filled the portrait. Then the whole thing swung forward on the wall like a little door, and the entrance to a real tunnel was revealed. And out of it, dressed impeccably even in the current situation, clambered Daphne Greengrass, who leaped down the mantelpiece, and hugged Quinn the moment she reached him.

Merlin had popped back into his frame and whistled. Quinn gave him a glare, and the old wizard silently chuckled before disappearing.

“Hey, how are you?” Quinn returned his attention to Daphne. “I hope they’re not giving Slytherin a hard time.”

Daphne shook her head in his embrace. “I don’t know; I haven’t gone out that much. Tracey and I stayed with Astoria and Luna in the AID office.” AID office’s security had been improved by Quinn before he left— it had been fine when he was in Hogwarts because he was the security system, but with him leaving, he had turned into a safer place in case Astoria and Luna ever needed it. It was only second to the Room of Requirement and maybe the Headmaster’s Office.

“Thank you for taking care of Luna,” he said.

“Astoria would’ve done anyway. She and Luna have become best friends.”

The hug ended, and Quinn gazed down at his girlfriend. “I messed up,” he sighed. “I should’ve done this much before and taken all of you out, away from this, to home. But I. . .” he sighed again. He had started a ticking clock when he had approached Voldemort and the Aurors. He had made an error— with his mind occupied by Voldemort, he had forgotten that he could let them exit through a Labyrinth door.

“Then why do you want to enter Hogwarts?” asked Daphne, her brows furrowed in confusion.

Quinn internally sighed when he heard no complaint in Daphne’s voice. He would’ve preferred if she had been angry with him and showed some heated emotion. Even though he knew it wasn’t the case, her lack of anger sometimes made it seem like she had been used to him disappointing her.

“I have some business with Dumbledore,” said Quinn, feeling bitter inside as he said the words to keep her in the dark. “With how the current situation is, I think it’s high time I talk to him and see what he is thinking.”

Quinn got up into the tunnel and held out his hand to Daphne, and helped her to climb up onto the mantelpiece. There were smooth stone steps on the other side: It looked as though the passageway had been there for years. Brass lamps hung from the walls, and the earthy floor was worn and smooth; as they walked, their shadows rippled, fanlike, across the wall.

“I assume Ivy told you about Voldemort’s offer,” said Daphne as they moved across the tunnel.

Quinn’s fingers twitched. He showed no external sign otherwise. “She did. It’s an impossible offer. Dumbledore isn’t going to give the Potters to him.”

They turned a corner, and there ahead of them was the end of the passage. Another short flight of steps led to a door just like the one hidden behind Ariana’s portrait. Daphne pushed it open and climbed through, and Quinn followed her to find himself in a room that resembled Daphne’s bedroom in her house. Seeing that made Quinn feel worse because it was clearly a sign that she was seeking comfort and safety.

“How about you stay here and call the others as well,” Quinn suggested. Room of Requirement was the safest place in Hogwarts, and he knew just what to ask to make it the safest.

Daphne shook her head. “It’s better if I stay inside the office. It’ll be better if we stay in a place where we can be found.” She took a neatly folded cloth from her robes and placed it in Quinn’s palm.

“I don’t need it,” Quinn tried to give it back.

“No, use it,” she said. “You can’t be seen in Hogwarts. It’s better to be safe than sorry,” and pushed it back into Quinn’s hands. She tiptoed to kiss him before saying, “Close the Room before you leave.”

Quinn watched as she exited the Room of Requirements. He then looked at Recon in his hand. Did he need it? Yes— it made his job much easier. Was he going to ask it from Daphne if she hadn’t given it on her own? No, he would rather that she keep it.

He felt like shit.

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Quinn West – MC – Knows that it’s only the start.

Merlin – Portrait – Wow, Hogwarts sure has become depressing.

FictionOnlyReader – Author – I suck at pacing. I really need to work on it. . . sigh.

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The link is in the synopsis!