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I am a suit of armor in the abandoned dungeon of Hogwarts. I've been standing in this corner for roughly a thousand—well, maybe two thousand—actually, I can't quite recall anymore.
Anyway, it's been an incredibly long time, so long that I haven't had proper maintenance in centuries. Only the castle's house-elves occasionally sweep away the spiders, dust me off, and drip a few drops of oil on my joints that I don't even need.
I often sleep and daydream. When I sleep, I sleep for decades; when I daydream, I do so for years. Well, probably—I'm not very good at keeping track of time.
There used to be two relief carvings beside me, but I can't remember when they disappeared.
I don't know whether I was moved or they vanished, but it doesn't matter. I'm just a suit of armor; I rarely feel lonely.
Yes, lonely...
I once saw the four old founders who built this school. Believe it or not, I was actually bought—or more accurately, stolen—by one of them.
He said I was goblin-made. I don't quite understand what that means, but my faceplate is indeed very exquisite, isn't it?
This is the topic I bring up the most, because I remember less and less as time goes on. I can't even recall the times when I fought to protect this castle.
Nor can I remember the little wizards who pass by me every day. When I stood by a window, there were red-haired children who chatted with me, but after being moved to this dungeon corner, I found the children here are much quieter.
I started daydreaming again until one day, a child rolled out from under my base, wrapped in cloth. She knocked my boot askew, and that's when I noticed her—this peculiar child.
She discovered I could speak and started visiting me frequently.
But I couldn't understand what she was saying. Time had passed too quickly, and people's languages had changed drastically. I could only keep repeating that I was goblin-made and that my faceplate was very exquisite, wasn't it?
After repeating it so many times, I started feeling a bit embarrassed, so I stopped. But she remained patient. When I stopped talking, she began speaking.
She talked about her discoveries in the castle, her Hufflepuff friend, the giant squid she found in the lake, and the fruits she picked in the forest.
But she never talked about herself.
It wasn't until that pesky ghost appeared that I learned her surname was Black, but it didn't mean much to me since I would soon forget it anyway. After all, if I daydreamed, she'd no longer be at school.
I watched her happily munch on two pieces of flour-based food.
I watched her struggle to read the book in her hands, trying to understand its contents as I tried to understand her words.
I watched her turn the bricks on the wall silver with a spell and attempt to move me over to cover it up.
Perhaps because she visited me so frequently, I surprisingly didn't daydream or fall asleep for a long time.
I told her I was goblin-made and my faceplate was very exquisite.
She responded, "Yes."
She asked me why Slytherins couldn't make friends. I didn't understand.
But I knew Slytherins had friends—the one who stole me was a friend of his.
Yet I didn't know how to explain this.
I told her I was goblin-made and my faceplate was very exquisite.
She responded even more earnestly, "Yes."
She asked me what I originally held in my hand.
I told her I was goblin-made. I tried to make her understand that time had passed too long, and I couldn't remember, but I couldn't articulate it.
She still responded earnestly, "Yes."
She didn't seem to care about my answers. It seemed as long as I responded to her, she would keep coming to see me.
She showed off her snake to me and even pried open my fingers to let me touch it, but I was just a suit of armor.
I noticed she was injured. She said her flower was gone. I didn't quite understand.
I told her my faceplate was exquisite. She replied with some disappointment, "Yes." I thought she must envy the patterns on my faceplate that remained untarnished for thousands of years.
She argued with two other little wizards, but they were too far away for me to hear.
I saw her sneaking out of the castle at night and sneaking back in.
I listened to her share the pineapple preserves given to her during detention by that chubby wizard.
I told her, "Fat people can't wear armor." But she didn't seem to understand.
She just cast a spell on me, saying, "Do you want a Brightening Charm?"
I said nothing.
She said more things, but I couldn't remember. I was just a suit of armor, but I remembered her Brightening Charm.
Because someone passing by exclaimed, "This armor actually looks pretty nice!"
One time, her state reminded me of the one who stole me.
Her mind seemed absent as she dragged me into an abandoned dungeon.
It was pitch dark, with only a single torch.
She mumbled incoherently about many things. I tried to listen and respond, but I was just a suit of armor.
The next day, she checked her body for injuries and seemed very frustrated.
I tried to comfort her. I told her my metal had been scratched by her, but she didn't seem to understand. She just cast a few Brightening Charms on me.
I was goblin-made; how could she easily scratch me?
Her visits became more frequent, but she grew much quieter. She carried a scent of blood I hadn't sensed in this castle for a very, very, very long time.
I thought this child might have experienced battles similar to those I once fought to protect the castle.
She became quieter, but my words grew more plentiful. I used my limited vocabulary to tell her I was goblin-made. I tried to let her know I had also experienced war and death.
I told her my faceplate was exquisite. I tried to tell her that even after all that, I was still goblin-made, and my faceplate remained exquisite.
But it wasn't until much later that she understood part of what I wanted to express.
By then, she was about to leave the castle. I thought I would soon fall back into sleep and daydreaming.
And then, at some point, maybe soon, maybe long after, I would meet another little wizard.
But in this corner, I thought it unlikely. Perhaps I should ask those peculiar house-elves to move me to a different spot.
She came with a suitcase and said she wanted to say goodbye.
I told her I was goblin-made, and my faceplate was exquisite...
She suddenly asked if I wanted to go with her. I remembered the one who stole me asking the same.
What had I answered back then?
I couldn't remember.
But now, I thought, I was willing.
I had stood in this castle for thousands of years. It seemed the castle didn't need me for now.
I wanted to take this opportunity to seek out goblins for some maintenance.
And perhaps find what I once held in my hand—what was it?
A knife? A sword? A spear? A shield?
Oh~~
The castle's administrator—what was the term? Oh, right, the headmaster!
He discovered she had taken me away.
At that time, I was in the pitch-dark suitcase, imagining goblin maintenance. I hoped for a thorough cleaning inside and out.
I also hoped to hold something in my hand.
I was thinking about being goblin-made when I was pulled out.
She gently placed me on the ground. What did she say?
"What a pity..."
I repeated her words.
I didn't know what they meant, but she seemed regretful.
I thought I felt the same.
Goodbye, little girl.
I had thought I would be returned to the dungeon corner, but the little fellow acting as headmaster didn't seem sure of my original position.
I didn't want to talk to him either.
Eventually, he placed me next to a stone-carved beast. The portraits and reliefs here were truly abundant.
But who am I?
I am a suit of armor with an exquisite faceplate, goblin-made.
I thought I could spend decades here without daydreaming alone again.
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