"Hmm…"
Passing the corner by the staircase, Melvin's gaze swept over the fourth-floor corridor. Fluffy's room was a few turns away, so nothing caught his eye.
"The Room of Requirement? You're saying Hogwarts Castle has a hidden secret room, enchanted by the four founders with magic that reveals it only when someone truly needs it…?"
"I suspect it was Helga Hufflepuff who created it," Dumbledore said, leading the way up the stairs, his footsteps soft. "She had a knack for life's little joys, often surprising students with gifts."
"Surprises and gifts," Melvin echoed, calmly shifting his gaze, trailing half a step behind. "If it's a gift, why not make it public or leave clues for students to find?"
"I'm not sure. That's a mystery from a thousand years ago."
"Will the Room of Requirement have what I need?"
"Perhaps. It always appears tailored to the seeker's needs, ready to solve their predicament."
"How did you discover it?"
"Well…"
Dumbledore's tone matched his unhurried steps, his voice clear in the stairwell. "It was years ago, when I was a student at Hogwarts—fifth year, I believe, in the second half. My friends and I were swamped with exam preparations, our heads spinning with revisions. Desperate for a bathroom, I took a wrong turn, wandered through a couple of corridors, and stumbled into a room I'd never seen before. It was beautifully decorated, filled with an assortment of exquisite, luxurious chamber pots."
"Chamber pots…"
Melvin pressed his lips together, unsure whether to believe the story or not. It felt too absurd to be true, yet too specific to be made up on the spot—like a tale spun to amuse a child.
Dumbledore, unfazed by the potential skepticism, continued earnestly, as if analyzing a serious matter. "After the OWLs, with some free time, I went back to investigate. The room was gone, no trace of it, as if it had vanished completely.
"When I returned for sixth year, I spent months experimenting and uncovered some patterns. It might only appear at five-thirty in the morning, or perhaps during a crescent moon, or maybe when someone's bladder is particularly full."
"…"
Melvin quickened his pace to walk beside him. "I'm not too concerned about the first two conditions, but that last one—how many experiments did it take to figure that out?"
"Oh… I've lost count," Dumbledore said vaguely.
"Anyway, that's where my student days' exploration of the mysterious room ended. Back then, I didn't even know it was called the Room of Requirement."
Dumbledore's tone grew livelier. "I encountered it again when I became the Transfiguration professor. The caretaker at the time, Apollyon Pringle, was far stricter than Filch, with a heavier hand for punishments. Students needed a hidden place to stash contraband to avoid his routine searches. That's when I noticed the name 'Room of Requirement' circulating among a small group of students…
"Later, as headmaster, the house-elves—who know Hogwarts better than anyone—cleared up my questions. The room is magical, existing since the school's founding. For nearly a millennium, the elves have used it as a storage for cleaning supplies or a break room…
"By the way, back when I was a professor, students trusted me enough to leave their contraband with me for safekeeping."
"…"
Melvin stopped walking. "And did you live up to Headmaster Armando Dippet's trust? He believed in you so much he handed you all of Hogwarts."
"That's why, once I became headmaster, I stopped hiding contraband for students."
"…"
They reached the eighth floor of Hogwarts Castle, a bustling level. A short walk to the right from the staircase led to the Fat Lady's portrait, guarding the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Past the portrait, another turn brought them to Professor Flitwick's office.
Melvin couldn't quite wrap his head around why the Ravenclaw Head's office was so close to Gryffindor's dorms.
Dumbledore didn't address his unspoken question. Their destination lay to the left of the staircase.
They walked deeper into the corridor, turning three or four corners until a blank wall came into view, adorned with a massive, tattered tapestry.
The tapestry was worn, its woolen threads faded, edges frayed, and loose strands unraveling. Dust and mildew clung to its surface.
The scene depicted a gloomy forest and a crooked castle tower, likely near Hogwarts. A few grayish-brown mountain trolls slumbered on haystacks, clad in oversized pink ballet tutus with lace trim, their crude clubs resting nearby.
The central figure, Barnabas, leaned against a tree stump, resting.
"Barnabas was a professor of Care of Magical Creatures four hundred years ago," Dumbledore said, pausing to admire the tapestry while explaining to Melvin. "Back then, the Wizarding Council was debating the definition of a 'person.' Trolls were a contentious case—human-like in form, with one head, facial features, limbs, and upright walking.
"Some wizards argued trolls were distant cousins of giants and should be classified as people. Others saw them as beasts, merely resembling humans by chance, less intelligent than some cats or dogs.
"The troll debate raged for over a decade. The headmaster at the time—I can't recall who—was studying troll language, which led to his impeachment. Professor Barnabas, teaching Care of Magical Creatures, began a quirky experiment to prove trolls weren't mindless by teaching them ballet. As you can see, it failed.
"To commemorate the event, students created this tapestry, which has hung here for centuries."
Melvin studied the tapestry, comparing it to the castle's other magical portraits. Hogwarts was full of enchanted paintings—former headmasters in the headmaster's office, notable alumni in the corridors. Those portraits could move between frames or even connect to other paintings of the same subject worldwide.
For instance, Sir Cadogan and his pony, or Dilys Derwent, a former headmaster and St. Mungo's head, could shuttle between her portraits at the school and hospital.
The tapestry was different. Barnabas and the trolls lacked intelligence or the ability to interact with the outside world, responding only with simple, scripted actions.
Each day, they performed a fixed routine: mornings, Barnabas taught the trolls ballet; afternoons, the trolls beat him up; evenings, they rested.
Day after day, year after year.
The theatrical loop, if extended with more scenes, varied backgrounds, and perhaps voiceovers, could be intriguing…
Melvin found himself growing interested in the tapestry.
"You've noticed something off about it, haven't you?" Dumbledore asked softly.
"Huh?" Melvin turned to him. "What's off?"
"The tapestry started as a student prank, a lighthearted jab. The scene was meant to depict a fun experiment, with Barnabas as a respected professor…"
Dumbledore's blue eyes deepened as he gazed at the tapestry. "At some point, Barnabas became 'Barnabas the Barmy,' and the tapestry turned into a cautionary tale of failed teaching. Malicious wizards began citing Professor Barnabas, claiming Muggle-born wizards were another kind of troll—incapable of grasping magic's wonders, destined to one day club their pure-blood teachers with sticks."
"…"
Melvin fell silent.
He hadn't expected the tapestry to carry political undertones.
That's awfully… Muggle.
"Let's get back to the Room of Requirement," Dumbledore said, turning to face him. "See the wall opposite the tapestry? Focus on picturing the place you need in your mind, walk past the wall three times, and the Room's door will appear."
Melvin hesitated, then decided to play along. "What kind of room would help me?"
"The Room of Requirement creates two types of magical spaces. One is entirely illusory—everything inside is conjured from imagination, existing only within the room, with no tangible reality, bound by Gamp's Law of Transfiguration, unable to be taken out. The other is half-real, half-false—the setting is illusory, but the items provided are real, either left by past students and staff or collected by house-elves during cleanups."
Melvin nodded, catching on. "So, what I need is among the old contraband."
Dumbledore gave a small smile and a nod.
Melvin squinted at him. "Decades later, those items are still confiscated. The students who trusted you really misplaced their faith."
"…"
Dumbledore's smile faltered, a hint of guilt flickering across his face.
Melvin didn't press further on the headmaster's conscience. Turning to the wall, he began picturing his desired scene:
*A secret room filled with forbidden items, hidden and secure…*
He paced back and forth three times. As his final step landed, a ripple of dust spread across the rough stone wall, like waves in a pond. A plain, dark wooden door silently materialized.
"Let's step into the hidden chamber and seek out those dangerous, thrilling treasures," Dumbledore murmured with a dramatic flair.
Ignoring the headmaster's theatrics, Melvin grasped the spherical doorknob, which turned effortlessly.
With a gentle push, he opened the door.
The room was vast beyond imagination—not a modest storage closet but a boundless warehouse.
A glass skylight in the domed ceiling was caked with grime and dust, forming a near-mud-like layer that blocked all outside light. Gems embedded in the ceiling and pillars emitted a faint glow, mingling with the dim light from scattered objects, but instead of illuminating the room, it distorted focus, making everything murkier.
Thankfully, there was no mold or moss, just the stale scent of aged parchment, tolerable enough.
"Lumos," Melvin cast.
A soft silver light bloomed, bathing the room.
Before him stretched a mountain of clutter: broken furniture stacked into makeshift scaffolds, mismatched metal vessels, armor, and magical artifacts forming the bulk, with yellowed parchment books filling the gaps, creating endless hills of debris.
*The Great Wizards of the 17th Century*, a powerless Golden Snitch and Quaffle, a 1774 Carpenter's Furniture round table, a worm-eaten oak cauldron, a dust-covered knight statue…
Some items radiated faint cursed auras, like dying lamps flickering out in a breeze.
Melvin surveyed the mess, disappointed. "I don't think there's anything here that can help me."
"Treasure hunts require patience…"
Dumbledore ventured deeper, weaving through piles of junk like a maze until he reached an unassuming corner, where the clutter formed narrow alleyways.
He pointed at a dark, shapeless mass. "Take a look at this."
It was an oddly shaped, square object, towering dozens of feet—nearly touching a classroom ceiling. A base supported it, resembling a wardrobe but thinner.
On closer inspection, it was a mirror.
Its dusty brass frame was barely recognizable, though a section of the mirror's surface had been hastily wiped clean. At the top, a line of ornate script peeked through.
"Erised stra…"
Melvin read two words before realizing, then whispered the reversed phrase: "I show not your face but your heart's deepest desire."
Looking into the mirror, he didn't see his reflection. Instead, a dim room appeared, where he lounged on a sofa, clicking a remote. No sleek flatscreen TV—instead, a bulky CRT television sat before him.
A stout silver snake with a horn on its forehead curled up beside the sofa.
Melvin's expression was unsurprised. His deepest memories, his secrets, were hidden even from the Sorting Hat and the Mirror of Erised.
The TV in the mirror played *The Simpsons*, the picture quality decent. He squinted at it for a moment, only looking away when Dumbledore approached.
"What did you see?"
"Personal privacy, I'm afraid," Melvin said.
Dumbledore paused, then chuckled and shook his head. "Fair enough."
"What did you see, Headmaster?"
"Sorry, that's confidential for now," Dumbledore replied, gazing at the mirror before continuing. "This was found during the pre-term castle cleanup. The mirror is magical and too large to move with Transfiguration easily. I plan to relocate it during the Christmas holidays when the students are gone. It could make a useful teaching tool, perhaps serve a purpose."
"…"
*For tutoring Potter, right?*
Melvin glanced at the inscription, his eyes drifting upward.
His gaze caught the towering, dust-covered knight statues, their dull metal armor, and the adornments placed atop them.
Lances, helmets, diadems, and the like.