Hylan led Hermione and Neville up to the eighth floor of Hogwarts castle.
After a quick search, they found the famous tapestry.
It showed a wizard named Barnabas the Barmy getting clubbed by several trolls wielding massive clubs.
“Why’s he getting beaten?” Neville asked, staring up at it.
“Because he tried to teach trolls ballet.
Look, they’re even wearing tutus.” Hermione paused, then added, “I read about it.”
Neville laughed.
“He must’ve been insane.
Everyone knows trolls are stupid and violent.”
The tapestry wasn’t really a memorial to Barnabas’s stupidity.
It was a warning.
The Room of Requirement had rules.
You couldn’t ignore the basic nature of things and expect it to work.
Just like the room couldn’t conjure food.
Hylan glanced across from the tapestry, then turned and walked to a blank stone wall.
Neville touched the thick stone, confused.
“There’s nothing here.”
“Wait for it,” Hylan said.
Once he was sure of the spot, he paced back and forth three times, concentrating.
I need a greenhouse for growing herbs.
Hermione and Neville watched, stunned, as a circular archway traced itself onto the empty wall in lines of light.
They both shouted at once.
“Hylan, look!”
“A door just appeared!”
“Alright.
Let’s go in.”
Hylan didn’t hesitate.
He pushed the door open and stepped through.
The first thing they saw was a vast room.
The second was the smell of rich earth.
The space was bright.
Gentle sunlight poured through a glass ceiling, reaching every corner.
Hylan nodded, satisfied.
The Room of Requirement had even thought of sunlight for the plants.
Considerate.
No wonder it had once given Dumbledore a room full of chamber pots when he desperately needed a bathroom.
Thorough, that room.
“This soil is real?” Neville pressed his foot into the soft, fertile ground.
Hermione turned to Hylan.
“How did you find this place?”
“I passed by once when I needed a bathroom.
The room appeared and gave me a whole collection of chamber pots.
When I came back later, it changed into something else based on what I wanted.” Hylan spun the lie smoothly.
“So I figured it could probably become a greenhouse.
Or anything else.”
“Incredible.” Hermione nodded, not doubting him for a second.
Neville shut his eyes, brow furrowed.
He tried a quiet command.
“Rain.”
The gentle sunlight vanished.
Rain poured down inside the room.
Neville realized he could even control where it fell.
“This is amazing!
Growing herbs here would be so easy.” His voice was full of wonder.
“Of course.
It’s the Room of Requirement.”
Even Hermione had to try.
She made the room blow with wind, then fill with snow, cycling through weather with pure delight.
It took her a while to reluctantly set it back to sunshine.
Hylan raised his wand and divided the room into two sections.
One large area with bare, soft earth.
One smaller section paved with stone bricks.
“The big side is for your herbs, Neville.” He lowered his wand.
“The smaller side is for practicing spells, or just resting and studying.” He turned.
“Neville, have you learned the Summoning Charm yet?”
He’d suggested it on the train.
A way for Neville to find Trevor more easily.
It had been about a week since term started.
Neville rubbed the back of his neck.
“Not yet.
It’s really hard.”
“I’ll practice with you.”
“Really?” Neville’s face lit up.
“That would be great!”
Practicing together meant Hylan teaching him step by step.
“Don’t rush.
Focus.”
“Watch your wand movement.”
He guided Neville through it over a dozen times, until the book finally slid a few inches across the floor.
“I’m sorry, Hylan.
I’m so slow.”
Neville’s shoulders slumped.
Sweat dripped down his face.
Casting spells was draining.
Even without much physical movement, intense practice wore a wizard out.
In the magical world, power and stamina came down to mental strength.
The same spell cast by two different people produced different results.
It depended on the wizard’s inner force and how well they knew the spell.
That was why Grindelwald’s black fire nearly burned Paris, while someone else’s could barely roast a potato.
The gap between talent and mediocrity.
Hylan clapped him on the shoulder.
“Even Dumbledore wasn’t a great wizard on his first day.”
“Rest a bit.
Then we’ll keep going.”
Nearby, Hermione had been glancing over.
Seeing Hylan free, she drifted closer, casual.
“Hylan, there’s a spell I don’t quite get.
Could you explain it?”
As if she really had a spell she didn’t understand.
She just wanted to talk to him.
They discussed it briefly.
Satisfied, the girl went off to practice on her own.
Hylan finally got a moment to open the spellbook he’d brought with him.
The session ended with Neville managing to slide a book half a meter across the floor.
After swearing them both to secrecy about the Room of Requirement, Hylan led them out.
They’d barely gone down one staircase before someone stopped them.
“Thank goodness!
I finally found you!” Parvati Patil, one of Hermione’s roommates, looked over her shoulder and shouted, “Lavender!
She’s here!”
Lavender Brown sprinted over and grabbed Hermione’s hand.
“Where have you been?
We’ve been looking everywhere!”
“What’s going on?” Hermione asked, confused by the sudden enthusiasm.
“Oh my god, you haven’t heard?”
“You got six points for Gryffindor from Professor Snape!
It’s all over the school!
We have to know how you did it!”
“Yeah…” Hermione gave a pained smile.
“But he also took seven points from Gryffindor in one class.”
“That doesn’t matter.
If he ever stopped docking Gryffindor points, everyone would assume he’d taken the wrong potion.”
“Forget that.
Just tell us how you pulled it off.”
Parvati and Lavender each took one of Hermione’s hands and started pulling her toward the Gryffindor common room.
“See you tomorrow, Hylan.”
Hermione still managed to turn back and say goodbye.
So Snape awarding points to Gryffindor really was a school-wide event.
His reputation was solid.
Never a point for Gryffindor, never a point taken from Slytherin.
Shaking his head, Hylan kept walking down the stairs with Neville.
Neville was still thinking about the Summoning Charm when he turned a corner and walked straight into someone.
A round, dung-like ball arced through the air, about to hit the ground.
“Whoa, careful!” Fred caught it with an open bag.
“If that hits the floor, it’s wasted.
Still got plenty of use left.”
“Yeah, limited supply,” George added.
“I’m so sorry.
I wasn’t paying attention.” Neville snapped out of it and apologized quickly.
“No worries.” The twins spoke in unison, then asked together, “Either of you want to buy a Dungbomb?”
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