➣ 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝟓 “𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙈𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝘿𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝”
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Another restless night. Another night filled with too much whispering and too little rest. It's been like this for two weeks now, and Nicolás hasn't been able to get used to it.
Slightly grumpy and pretty much sleepy, Nicolás woke up before the others and got ready for classes.
It’s curious. The Hufflepuff common room has been nothing but comfortable since the first day he arrived, but for the past weeks, Nicolás has felt something. A presence of sorts, and, of course, the voice, but there was something deeply unsettling about it. Something he still needed to point out.
Hearing a voice whispering behind the walls is not exactly comforting nor ‘normal’, not even in the Wizarding World; especially when you can’t really comprehend what the voice is saying exactly.
But, oh well, for now he needed to focus on his classes, starting with Arithmancy.
Arithmancy has always been an easy class for Nicolás, not in a haughty way, it’s just that being raised by experts in many fields, he was able to get ahold of many aspects of magic from a very young age. So… rudimentary, that it came only naturally to him.
Now, in Castelobruxo, the class was challenging because it was advanced and it moved rather quickly, here in Hogwarts, Nicolás could notice it was much slower and it tended to follow behind in comparison.
The point in favor, was that here, as not many people often opted for it, it turned into a much more personalized experience. Professor Septima Vector was indeed gifted for its teaching. She was a very stern-looking witch, perhaps even more so than Professor McGonagall herself —which was a feat all in itself.
What Nicolás enjoyed the most was, without a doubt, the homework. You can call him a nerd if you want to, but yes, Nicolás really enjoyed doing his homework. The woman really had no mercy for them, not even in the first weeks of term. The hardest part was perhaps making the detailed numerical diagrams and statistics, especially when you had a penmanship as pitiful as Nicolás’.
Arriving at his working table, he found his favorite classmates, Willow Meadows, a Ravenclaw, and Lilith Blackthorn, a Slytherin—both in his year.
Willow had a softly tanned skin, with hair as black as Nicolás’, her face also had some baby fat that made her incredibly adorable.
On the other hand, Lilith was fair-skinned, with hair —dyed— as red as hot fire about to make a potion boil, and her face was probably the only one in the entire school to rival Snape’s meanness; no one would ever suspect she was a total sweetheart—it’s not like she wanted the school to know, anyway.
“Hello, ladies,” Nicolás announced as he took his seat. He received different responses.
“Hello, Nicolás,” said Willow in her characteristic gentle voice.
On the other hand, he received a “what’s up?” From Lilith’s slightly deeper voice.
It’d never not be entertaining for Nicolás to witness the so-marked differences between them. Willow was incredibly soft in general, in her speech, in her demeanor. Her personality was generally very calm and quiet.
On the other hand, Lilith was the opposite, she was loud, sometimes coming across as rude, and her dressing style was more boyish, tomboy some would say; she would always wear jeans, or dressing pants, and loose shirts, when she wasn’t using her uniform, or even for visiting Hogsmeade with her friends; her personality was just as fiery as her artificial red hair.
The two of them were part of a group of friends of six girls, all of them unique, but somehow perfectly fitting to be together.
Nicolás found it so amusing, because they would often refer to each other as girlfriends—Nicolás didn’t know if any of them were actually girlfriends, and it’s not like it was any of his business, anyway.
The other four girls were Amelia Blackthorn, Lilith’s sister, and also in Slytherin, Aurora Whitestone and Amara Moonbeam, fellow Hufflepuffs, and Ruby Goldleaf, a Gryffindor.
Nicolás shared his Study of Ancient Runes classes with Amelia and Ruby. Amelia is like the personification and embodiment of the word elegance, everything she does, probably even breathing, is very aristocratic. She just had that effortlessly elegant aura about her that probably comes from having a pure-blood background.
Like her sister, she had fair skin, she was the tallest of her group and in probably their year —probably except for Dorian and Cedric—, she was even taller than Caelum, and her hair was as dark as the void in the night. She was very thin and looked like one of those muggle models that walked in runaways. She was exceptionally smart, and clearly the leader of their group. She was also very kind, even if like her sister, her expression and aura were intimidating.
Ruby was the funniest of their group, she was incredibly random—only to not say unhinged— and would do the most unpredictable things at any time, it didn’t surprise Nicolás at all that she was friends with Caelum and the Weasley twins.
Her hair was black with fading into dark blue hues at the bottom. She was multitalented, with her easy demeanor, Nicolás was surprised to find her in Study of Ancient Runes, but the girl was really good at it.
Nicolás shared his class of Care of Magical Creatures with Aurora and Amara, two fellow Hufflepuffs.
Aurora was probably the friendliest of the group, in the sense that she was friends with probably half the school —if not more—, from a few of the first years, up to most of the people in the upper years, she was a social butterfly. Her skin was very white, and her brown hair made her, somehow, look even friendlier. She’s the type of person who seems to wear a permanent smile on her face, all bubbly and adorable.
And finally, Amara was the shortest in the group. And also, with not a single doubt, the most adorable one. She just had this aura about her that made you want to take her and hide her in your pocket, just so she would never be hurt. Her hair was a vibrant hue of pink, Nicolás wasn’t surprised to hear that she was the one to convince Alec to dye his own hair.
It was fascinating for Nicolás to see them together. They were so different, but together, they fitted like a puzzle. Even the way they moved, the way they walked, all seemed to be in perfect harmony and synchrony.
Back to the class, it went on with pretty much easiness. Numbers came to Nicolás like the mixing of potion ingredients, or the care of magical creatures: effortless, unforced, and natural.
The topic at hand was not much of his interest, but what kept him on his tippy toes, was what would come after the bell that rang, indicating the end of the class.
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
After a soft knock on the door, the headmaster’s office finally opened to him. It was a spacious office, with countless portraits of the past headmasters of Hogwarts.
“Mr. Cardona. I was told you needed to meet with me, rather urgently,” said Dumbledore, walking down some stairs.
“Yes, Professor,” responded Nicolás. “Is actually about Professor Lockhart,” he said, not bothering with more pleasantries.
Before he could keep speaking, Nicolás spotted the beautiful Phoenix on Dumbledore’s desk. “Oh, woah,” he said, approaching the bird.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” asked Dumbledore. “It is a shame his burning day will come in a few days.”
The once bright magnificent red bird looked greyish graceless turkey, his plumage was falling by the second, and he constantly coughed ashes.
But Nicolás has learned to see the beauty in all stages of any creature's life, from their birth, like the Hippogriffs, who were born without feathers, or how Thestrals got white when they approached their death.
“But that’s their beauty, isn’t it? They teach us how not even death is something permanent. It is but another step in the cycle of life.” Nicolás only responded once Fawkes explicitly told him he was allowed to pet him.
Dumbledore gave him a long pensive look, scrutinizing, and Nicolás made the effort to not mention the sudden attempts of probing of Legilimency he felt in the back of his head. After six years of practice, Occlumency came to him like second nature.
“Very wise of you, Mr. Cardona,” Dumbledore decided to say in a measured voice. “Now, I don’t think my Phoenix is related to Professor Lockhart, is it?”
Ignoring the slight pounding in the back of his head, Nicolás turned to face the old man, Nicolás spoke. “Thankfully no, Professor. I only wanted to know if there’s a way for me to take the final exams of Defence Against the Dark Arts, without attending the classes.”
“I heard of your… altercation, with Professor Lockhart. But I don’t reckon that’s reason enough for you to skip the classes altogether.”
“I wouldn’t call it an altercation myself, but that’s not the entire reason. I don’t think it is necessary for me to tell you how incompetent Lockhart is. I guess you heard of the Pixie incident with the second years. The man ran and left three kids to solve his faux pas.”
“Yes, I’ve heard,” said Dumbledore.
“I have a learning curve, I’ve been following since my first year at Castelobruxo, and I’ve already checked the entire guideline and what’s expected of us to learn for this year, and I’m confident enough to say that I already have knowledge in it. Therefore, my assistance to DADA would be non-beneficial for my education.” Nicolás stopped for a moment under Dumbledore’s stare. “I’ve actually been working on my own, with books and assignments my Castelobruxo professors are sending me. I could share them with you, to prove that I’m not lying.”
“I would say you can give Professor Lockhart another chance,” said Dumbledore, as if Nicolás hadn’t just made a perfectly rational case.
“I have nothing to learn from him, and he has nothing of use for me to learn,” Nicolás argued.
“Sometimes people can teach how and what not to be, don’t you think?”
“A popular saying from my country says that smart people learn from their mistakes, but only the wise learn from the mistakes of others. I’ve already learned enough from Lockhart’s mistakes, Professor.”
Dumbledore stopped, seemingly in deep thought for a couple of minutes. Minutes that caused Nicolás’ heart to pound hard on his chest.
“You sound very much like Pedro, Nicolás, I’m sure your grandfather is delighted by it. As for your request, I see no trouble in you bringing those papers and evidence here. After that, we might be able to discuss further about your assistance to the classes.”
“Of course, Professor,” Nicolás replied, walking towards the door, before stopping at it. “Oh, and Professor, it’s not very polite to try and probe into people’s minds without their consent,” he said over his shoulder.
And without another word, he walked down the ridiculously round staircases.
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
It was one week before Halloween, and Nicolás had spent the whole day trying to locate Harry, to no avail. After a quick look at the map, Nicolás saw Harry’s name in Filch’s office.
Taking his Invisibility Cloak, Nicolás left the Hufflepuff dorms, moving fast through the hallways.
A corridor before reaching the office concealing Harry, Nicolás saw Sir. Nicholas, the Gryffindor ghost, talking with Peeves, the poltergeist, before the latter went on, to probably cause havoc.
“Good night, Sir. Nicholas.” Nicolás announced his presence.
Turning fast, the ghost sent him a smile, “Good night to you too, dearest namesake. What brings you here?”
“I’m searching for Harry, perhaps you’ve seen him?” Nicolás asked.
They heard a small commotion outside the office. “At any moment, I suspect,” the ghost said.
But before Nico could question him, the office door was opened abruptly, and Harry stepped outside quickly. He almost ran until reaching them.
“Harry! Harry! Did it work?” Asked Sir. Nicholas eagerly. “I persuaded Peeves to crash it right over Filch's office. Thought it might distract him—”
“Was that you?” said Harry gratefully. “Yeah, it worked, I didn't even get detention. Thanks, Nick!” That was the moment Harry’s eyes moved from Nick, reaching Nicolás.
“Hello Harry, fancy seeing you here.” Nicolás greeted the boy.
“Oh! Hi, Nico!” Harry greeted eagerly, giving Nicolás a quick hug.
They started to make their way back, Nicolás intended to make sure Harry arrived at his common room without a detention or something. When he was about to talk to Harry about the thing he intended, Harry spoke first.
“I wish there was something I could do for you about the Headless Hunt,” Harry said, talking to Nearly Headless Nick.
The ghost stopped in his tracks and Harry walked right through him, eliciting a profound shiver throughout Harry’s body.
“But there is something you could do for me,” said Nick excitedly. “Harry—would I be asking too much—but no, you wouldn't want—”
“What is it?” said Harry.
“Well, this Halloween will be my five hundredth deathday,” said Nearly Headless Nick, drawing himself up and looking dignified.
“Oh,” said Harry, not sure whether he should look sorry or happy about this. “Right.”
“I'm holding a party down in one of the roomier dungeons. Friends will be coming from all over the country. It would be such an honor if you would attend. Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger would be most welcome, too, of course—but I daresay you'd rather go to the school feast?” He watched Harry on tenterhooks.
“No,” said Harry quickly, “I'll come—”
“My dear boy! Harry Potter, at my deathday party! And—” he hesitated, looking excited “—do you think you could possibly mention to Sir Patrick how very frightening and impressive you find me?”
“Of—of course,” said Harry.
Nearly Headless Nick beamed at him. The ghost turned to look at Nicolás for a moment, his smile widening. “You are also welcome to join in Nicolás.”
“Of course, Sir. Nicholas, it will be my pleasure.” Responded Nicolás.
After that, Nick left them alone. Very carefully, Nicolás guided Harry back to his common room, stopping for a moment just outside.
“Hey, Harry. Will you be doing something on the 31st in the morning?” Nicolás asked.
Harry seemed to think for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. Why?”
With a sad smile, Nicolás spoke, “Caelum and I have permission to go outside for a while, would you like to join us? It will only take one to two hours at most. We’ll be back before lunch.”
Harry seemed to be confused and about to ask something, before quickly agreeing to go with them. Something in his expression told Nicolás that he didn’t know what he agreed to do.
But that was impossible, right? How could he not know it was his parents’ death anniversary?
After ensuring Harry entered the Gryffindor common room, Nicolás made his way back to the dungeons under his cloak, making sure no one was in his path.
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
Just outside the castle, Nicolás and his mother, Carolina, were waiting, both dressed in warm robes for the chilling autumn breeze.
Caelum and Harry came out in a hurry. Upon reaching them, Harry looked at Nicolás, before looking at Carolina deep in thought.
“I saw you in the photos,” the boy said after a moment.
Carolina smiled at the sight of Harry, she made a great effort to stop her smile from turning sad, but it was hard seeing the spitting image of James, with his cinnamon skin, his round spectacles, and that messy untamable hair; and seeing Lily’s beautiful green eyes, those eyes that accompanied her for so many years.
Before she knew it, and before she could stop herself, she was already on Harry, enveloping in a tight and warm embrace, a few stray tears coming from her eyes.
Harry seemed to jump in surprise, looking at Nicolás startled. After a reassuring smile, Harry seemed to relax in the embrace, wrapping his arms around the woman.
After introductions were made, as they walked outside the Anti-Apparition Charms of the school, it was time to leave. Carolina took Caelum’s hand, while Nicolás took Harry’s, instructing the boy to hold on really tight and to trust him. Next second, they Disapparated with a loud crack sound.
After Harry threw up from the trip, washing the acid taste with a bottle of water from Carolina, they entered the main street of Godric’s Hollow. Walking down the countless quaint cottages, Harry didn’t let go of Nicolás’ hand. He turned towards Nicolás.
“Where are we going?” Harry asked.
Farrowing his brows, Nicolás stopped in his tracks. Realization hit him with anger, not towards Harry, of course. “You don’t know it, do you?”
A little ashamed, Harry shook his head. Sighing, Nicolás decided to keep walking. And they walked, approaching what looked like an obelisk statue. Only when they were close enough, the statue seemed to transfigure, taking the shape of a young couple, a man and a woman, sitting on a bench, their young son on his father’s lap.
Lily and James Potter, with Harry Potter, all of them smiling.
Without taking his eyes from the memorial, Nicolás spoke. “Today is their death anniversary.”
Harry seemed taken aback. The boy approached the statue, he seemed almost in trance, trying to take in every single detail he could.
“Did you bring them?” Nicolás asked his mother. Carolina took four lilies, handing one to Caelum, two to Nicolás, and keeping one herself.
Taking Harry’s hand again, Nicolás started to walk once more, rounding the corner, and into the graveyard, the other two following behind.
Nicolás handed one of the flowers to Harry, who looked confused.
They stopped in front of a white marble tombstone.
In loving memory of
James Potter and Lily Potter
The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.
“We try to come here once a year,” Nicolás spoke.
Harry didn’t know what to say. Kneeling, Nicolás touched the cold marble for a moment, before crossing himself, leaving his lily in the vase holder, and standing up. Confused, Harry tried to copy his moves as Caelum and Carolina did the same.
Laughing, Nicolás ruffled the boy’s hair. “You don’t have to do it; these are only our religious beliefs.” He sighed. “He was my godfather, you know.”
Standing up, Caelum spoke in a quiet voice, “And she was my godmother.”
Seeing as Harry didn’t seem to take his eyes from the tombstone, Nicolás turned to the others, “We’ll give you a moment,” he spoke to Harry, gesturing the other to walk out.
As he turned to leave, Nicolás felt Harry grasping his hand, the boy’s eyes never leaving the marble tombstone.
“How… how are you supposed to destroy death?” Harry asked, his gentle voice barely heard above the sound of leaves moving with the wind.
“I think death is the most natural action any living organism can do,” Nicolás answered, his voice equally gentle. “When people refuse to accept death, they become like Voldemort. Monsters willing to do anything in a futile attempt to trick the natural order.”
“Do you think he’s dead?” Asked Harry.
“Little One, you saw him last year,” Nicolás answered. Harry looked at him, eyes wide open. Nicolás chuckled, “Word gets around fastly in Hogwarts, and Caelum is not exactly good at hiding things, not from me, at least.” He looked Harry in the eyes, “And you’re not alone, not anymore. Not while I’m with you. Not while we’re all with you.”
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
No more than five minutes after arriving alone —because Caelum only laughed on his face after refusing to go to the deathday party—, Nicolás saw Harry and his friends approaching the hallway. They were in the dungeons, far from the kitchens, which meant the atmosphere was colder.
The floor was lined with jet-black candles, which despite being lit up, didn’t emanate any warmth, nor actual light, their fire was almost blue, giving the whole space a more haunted feeling.
Harry waved at him as they approached, in the background, sounded a thousand fingernails scratching a chalkboard, ghostly music, Nicolás guessed.
Not losing time, they decided to enter the party, being welcomed by Nearly Headless Nick.
“My dear friends,” he said mournfully. “Welcome, welcome… so pleased you could come…”
He swept off his plumed hat and bowed them inside.
It was an incredible sight. The dungeon was full of hundreds of pearlywhite, translucent people, mostly drifting around a crowded dance floor, waltzing to the dreadful, quavering sound of thirty musical saws, played by an orchestra on a raised, black-draped platform.
A chandelier overhead blazed midnight blue with a thousand more black candles. Their breath rose in a mist before them; it was like stepping into a freezer. They could only wrap their robes around themselves, trying to create some warmth.
“Shall we have a look around?” Harry suggested, wanting to warm up his legs.
“Be careful not to walk through anyone,” said Ron nervously, and they set off around the edge of the dance floor. They passed a group of gloomy nuns, a ragged man wearing chains, and the Fat Friar, the Hufflepuff ghost, who was talking to a knight with an arrow sticking out of his forehead, waved Nicolás very cheerfully.
Nicolás couldn't be surprised to see that the Bloody Baron was being given a wide berth by the other ghosts, the guy wasn't a much pleasant company, even if sometimes he seemed to tolerate Nicolás’ presence.
“Oh, no,” said Hermione, stopping abruptly. “Turn back, turn back, I don't want to talk to Moaning Myrtle—”
“Who?” said Harry as they backtracked quickly.
“She haunts one of the toilets in the girls’ bathroom on the first floor,” said Hermione.
“How do you know she haunts a toilet?” Asked Nicolás.
“It's been out-of-order all year because she keeps having tantrums and flooding the place. I never went in there anyway if I could avoid it; it's awful trying to have a pee with her wailing at you—”
“Look, food!” said Ron.
“Wait! Don’t—” Nicolás tried to stop them.
Ignoring him, they approached it eagerly, but the next moment had stopped in their tracks, horrified. The smell was quite disgusting. There was an array of the most disgustingly rotten and spoiled food, from meat to pastries, there was a cake shaped as a tombstone, with tar-like icing forming the words, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington died 31st October, 1492. They all watched as a ghost passed his mouth though some salmon, claiming to almost be able to taste it.
With every single olfactory neuron in his nose aching, his stomach kicking, and the bile raising up his throat, Nicolás grabbed Harry’s and Hermione’s shoulders, directing them, alongside Ron, away from the food.
However, after no more than four steps, a small man appeared from under a table. This man was pale and translucent, wearing a party hat. It was Peeves, the Poltergeist. He looked at them with a wide and wicked grin that screamed trouble. Nicolás sighed.
“Hello, Peeves,” greeted Nicolás and Harry in unison, their voices equally tired and cautious.
“Nibbles?” The Poltergeist asked, pretending to be innocent.
“No, thanks,” said Hermione.
Then, with the same wicked smile, Peeves started to talk about Hemione criticizing Moaning Myrtle. Hermione tried to lie, very unsuccessfully, and then, the Poltergeist called for the girl-ghost, telling her.
When she seemed about to start a tantrum there, Nicolás waved and fakely said, “Oh, look, the Bloody Baron is coming this way!”
While Peeves and Myrtle turned back, clearly scared, Nicolás grabbed the back of the other kids’ robes, taking them out of there, until they found Sir. Nicholas. But before they could excuse themselves out of the party, everyone fell silent under the sound of a hunting horn, making Nick pretty bitter.
Then, a dozen ghost horses burst through the wall, each horse ridden by a headless horseman. When everyone started to clap, Nicolás had to grab Harry’s hands to stop him from joining, Nick didn’t look pleased at all.
From then on, everything went from bad to worse. Those new ghost were the Headless Hunt, who had rejected Nick countless times over the centuries. In minutes, their flashy entrance and noisy behaviour had captured the attention of everyone there, making them forget it was Nick’s party.
Leaning to speak with the kids, Nicolás said, “Let’s just go, my legs are shaking in the cold.” Ron nodded eagerly, and they all left the room.
A few steps later, as they were fantasizing about the meal filling the tables in the Great Hall, which hopefully wasn’t over yet, Nicolás heard it.
It was that faint voice he’d been hearing, as if it came from afar, or as if there was something in between. It was a venomous voice, and it felt filled with nothing but hate, and a bile-rising rage.
It was weird. Nicolás had always been able to communicate with magical creatures, it came naturally, as if they spoke his very own unique language.
However, this voice was different. It felt like listening to a language similar to yours, but one that you don’t speak yourself. You can maybe understand some words, and maybe some others sound familiar to equivalents in your language, and you can infer what they say, but you can’t actually speak it nor understand literally what they say.
Nicolás, even not understanding the words, could understand what the voice spoke about. It spoke about killing, about satisfying its own hunger.
And apparently, he wasn’t the only one who heard the voice, because Harry also came to an abrupt halt, clutching to the wall.
Nicolás and Harry glued their ears to the wall, trying with all their might to hear the voice more clearly. Suddenly, it seemed as if the voice, or more likely, the one behind the voice, started to move.
As the voice seemed to, very weirdly, ascend, they hurried Ron and Hermione up the stairs. Following the voice, they went up the stairs, three steps at a time. Rounding the corridor, they stopped, because the voice seemed to just disappear.
“What was that all about?” said Ron, wiping sweat off his face. “I couldn't hear anything…”
But Hermione gave a sudden gasp, pointing down the corridor.
“Look!”
In the wall, in what seemed to be blood, big letters had been daubed, shimmering under the light of a couple of torches.
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.
Underneath the writing, scaring the lives out of them, they found Mrs. Norris, Filch’s cat. The poor cat was frozen, not only in the sense of not moving, but also because there seemed to be cold coming from her. Her eyes were wide open, looking out at the soaking-wet corridor.
It was already too late when they tried to back away and leave the scene. The feast had ended, and everyone was walking into the hallway, and up the stairs.
The next moment, the hundreds of students stopped in their tracks in front of them, from every ending of the corridor,
Every chatter sound fell dead, and silence reined in the hall as everyone looked at Harry, Nicolás, Ron, and Hermione, in front of the hanging cat and the writing on the wall.
Nicolás caught sight of Caelum and Dorian, their eyes wide open and their faces pale, even Draco, who was in front of Dorian, seemed shocked and scared.
The next thing they heard was Argus Filch’s shouts nearing.
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