Montague's Journey

Chapter 6 - The Man with the Golden Nose

Trapped inside a crystal ball thrown from the Owlery, Montague plummeted towards earth with eyes clamped shut, clutching the memory of a tulip.

He never felt the impact. He wasn't even sure there was an impact for it seemed he went directly from rocketing straight down to levitating straight up. The unusual change in direction was accompanied by the sudden and overpowering return of his senses - particularly his sense of smell.

Montague heard the chirping of birds and the swaying of trees in a summer breeze. He felt the comfortable warmth of the sun on his skin and smelled... everything. He could smell the pungent dragon manure used in the Hogwarts greenhouses. He could smell the murky water of the lake. Close by he could smell stones and the porous, spongy moss that clung to them. A scent totally foreign to Montague wafted intermittently under his nose. From some deeply buried instinct, he labeled the odor "friendly bi-peds." But most interesting among the potpourri of aromas was the faint, succulent smell of gold nearby.

What a marvelous scent.

Montague opened his eyes only to discover he was nearly blind. Based on his super-olfactory abilities, he knew he was outside Hogwarts facing the greenhouses, but their distant forms were far below him and a complete blur. Without quite understanding how, Montague turned smoothly to his right and he identified a big dark fuzzy blue blob as the lake. Still rotating slowly, Montague found the source of the mossy stone aroma: he was looking point blank at an exterior wall of the castle. The wall, being only a meter away, was in sharper focus. On the other side of the wall, Montague was absolutely sure there were some tasty bits of gold and gems. Much to his displeasure, he was drifting upwards and farther away from his desired treat.

The wall provided a frame of reference for his movement. Montague was levitating upward along its height, and he spotted a window ledge coming within reach. He naturally reached out to the ledge as he passed but, much to his dismay, he had no arms.

Oh no, not again.

Instead, he had two, dirty four-toed paws. He could move them in a swimming motion quite effectively and he paddled toward the open window before him. His efforts seemed to be working: he made it over the ledge and through the window just as the force that was suspending him abruptly stopped. Montague dropped like a rock. He didn't drop far (and by now, Montague was an expert on free-falling from high places), but still plopped down hard on a carpeted floor. The jolt jarred his bladder and he embarrassingly wet himself, adding another exotic scent to the rich mix in the room. Montague shuffled across the carpet to get out of his mess. He felt four furry feet touching ground and he lifted his whiskered nose to analyze the room with his newly acquired talent.

This room was used heavily by a single "friendly bi-ped." One strong scent permeated the carpet, the desk, the chair and every other item in the room. It was a strange formula of salty sweat mixed with dry wool and a touch of toadstool. The person was one of the adult females and she was very big. Montague couldn't begin to explain how his nose told him all this. He just knew.

Other bi-peds had been in this room too. Montague sniffed the air and carpet and traced their scents to a small desk and chair in the corner of the room. There was the sick smell of dried blood coming from a quill and parchment on the desk. Montague backed away from the area and set about exploring the rest of the space.

His nose and feet seemed automatically programmed to move him in the direction of any shiny object. It was as if he was under an Imperious Curse that was constantly prodding him to find, inspect, taste and gather any gleaming objects and bring them back to his cozy den. He had an insatiable hunger for gold, but any dense metal had a nice sweet smell. There were many intriguing things to investigate. He started with the attractive brass plate holders on the shelf behind the desk. He scurried across the carpet, leaped up on the desk chair, then coiled up and sprang onto the shelf.

Oh yes, these are nice and shiny.

He knocked a plate from its stand and licked the metal.

Mmmm. Soft brass. Very good.

A mewing sound caught his attention and Montague turned to the next plate to find a lurid blue kitten looking back at him. He sniffed at the kitten and briefly felt the urge to hump it but honestly found the silver lining of the plate more alluring. He chewed on the plate lining until his over-zealous behavior pushed both plate and holder over the edge of the shelf. The plate shattered, but he didn't care; there were plenty more to indulge in.

Montague proceeded to chew on each of the plates in turn and purposely push both plate and stand over the edge of the shelf. He jumped down (and again wet the floor on impact), then started building a large pile of his treasure in the center of the room. He found a silver snuff box containing a powder that stung his nose when he accidentally inhaled it. He flipped the box over and emptied its contents on the carpet before picking it up in his mouth and tossing it onto his growing pile. He chewed the handles off the desk and the metal caps on the ends of the chairs. He managed to tug out several of the drawers and spill their contents all over the floor for closer examination. He wriggled with glee when he hit the jackpot of delicious Knuts and Sickles. He licked and licked at them until his keen hearing picked up the sounds of the friendly bi-ped opening the door.

"Eeeeeeeeeeek!" shrieked the woman.

"Ahhhhhhhhhh!" shrieked Montague, although through his rodent vocal chords it came out more like a prolonged high-pitched squeak. The shock of seeing the massive form of Professor Umbridge framed in the door broke him free from the Imperious effect that had him following only his animal instincts. Her unpleasant odor could shock a were-bear out of hibernation too. Besides her stinky, wooly mushroom scent, Montague's snout detected fear bordering on terror.

"Professor Umbridge, help me!" Montague said, but all that came out was a string of grunts and clicks.

Umbridge screamed again and whipped out her stubby little wand. As she did, the flash of glittering rings on her fingers triggered Montague's primitive desire for treasure.

Gold!

He dashed towards her and tried to climb up her leg. For a fat toad, she was quite dexterous. She managed to dodge his charge and kick him away. The intoxicating smell of the golden rings was driving Montague wild. He scrambled on top of the hoard he had amassed in the middle of the room and made a second attempt to leap and grasp the flashy rings. This time his timing was perfect. He captured her wrist with his paws and bit down on both fingers and rings.

"Owwwwwwwww," cried Umbridge. What was once fear, turned to pure anger. She zapped Montague with her wand and Montague had to let go of his prize. He landed on his back, and it took a second for him to squirm back onto his feet. He circled around and found himself trapped between an enraged Umbridge and the thick oak door.

Montague knew Umbridge shared the Slytherin fondness for tormenting small furry creatures. He did not need perfect eyesight to see Umbridge foaming at the mouth with anticipation. His animal instincts told him to run: they also insisted on ejecting extra weight before trying to run. He promptly emptied his bladder onto the cute little pink welcome rug with the High Inquisitor seal. He briefly wondered why Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (nor the companion guide Fantastic Beasts and How to Subdue or Kill Them) never mentioned how nifflers had such poor bladder control.

Umbridge lifted her stumpy wand and let loose.

"Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy!"

Montague was thrice blasted backward. Every cell of his body cried out in pain. He hit the door behind him with such force that his bones shattered. If his bladder was full, it would have ruptured with the impact. Not a bad instinct to have after all. As he started to drift unconscious, he tasted blood on his lips and smelled charred niffler hair. The acrid smell could not hide the acute scent of certain death approaching. Montague could not explain how his nose told him this. He just knew.

Montague's conclusion was confirmed when he floated silently up out of the niffler's body and observed the scene from the ceiling of the office. Umbridge nudged the bloody carcass with the tip of her wand to confirm that he - it - was dead before Banishing it to the waste can. After that, she collapsed, exhausted, into her office chair.

His niffler-self had done quite a job at gnawing away the feet and struts of the chair. The chair burst apart beneath Umbridge's weight, and Montague was mildly entertained watching her flailing among the broken pieces like a turtle turned up on its shell. He would have liked to stay, but he floated up through the ceiling into the classrooms and corridors of Hogwarts above her office.

The sound of rattling metal brought Montague's attention to a vaguely familiar scene along one of the corridors. Peeves was in the process of stuffing Mrs. Norris into a suit of armor. He seemed to be having some trouble keeping the visor of the knight's helmet up while also maintaining a firm hold on the thrashing cat. Montague couldn't help but laugh at the scene. Whenever he pulled off the prank, he always had a co-conspirator to lift the entire helmet off the shoulder gear. Montague wanted to help Peeves, but he continued to drift up until he found himself looking down on the castle grounds.

Every detail of Hogwarts was vividly rendered below him. It looked like the Giant Squid was waving to him from the dark blue lake. Hogsmeade was bustling as usual and Montague could swear he saw his parents walking up the road from the town towards the castle. From his rapidly rising altitude, the crowns of the trees in the seemingly endless Forbidden Forest were a glowing green. Every leaf individually sparkled in its own personal shade of green, yellow, brown, or burgundy and Montague was completely absorbed in their dancing colors.

Then everything turned black.

Black and cold.

Montague felt he should be seeing his breath frosting in front of him, but nothing came forth. He wasn't breathing at all. He quickly inspected himself. He had arms, legs, hands, feet and torso, but they were all semi-transparent. He held his hand directly in front of him and could see its faint outline. And, through his hand Montague saw a frightening scene.

Ghosts of all forms drifted in lines towards an archway. Men, women, children, common animals and magical beasts all flowed silently towards an ancient, crumbling arch of stone. The arch was the only opaque object in the dark landscape and it looked so run down, Montague felt it would fall over in a light breeze. A tattered veil hung down the middle of the arch and it waved gently under a mysterious draft. Montague moved closer and saw that the forms approached and entered the archway from both sides, but none emerged from the opposite side.

I don't like this.

I don't like this at all.

Montague spotted a niffler gamboling toward the veiled archway. The beast looked strangely familiar, and it stepped out of the flow momentarily to nod at Montague. He felt the urge to reach out and pet it, but the instant he extended his hand, he felt an awkward pull toward the chilling veil. He stood firm and studied the little niffler from a short distance away.

"Are you coming?" asked the niffler.

Montague was amazed not by the fact that he could understand niffler-tongue, but that the word "yes" actually entered into his mind. He even opened his mouth and shaped the word on his lips, when the soft tinkling of a bell interrupted his answer.

At first, Montague was not even sure he had heard it. The niffler, with its superior hearing, had not reacted in any way. It sat on its haunches twitching its faint gray nose, patiently waiting for Montague to respond.

The bell chimed again, louder this time, and the sound reminded Montague of the ringing hooves of Luna's winged-horse. The silver bell rang a third time and now Montague was positive of its existence: it was the purest, most resonant sound he'd ever heard. Montague felt heat radiate from within one of his robe pockets and he reached into it to find the multi-colored tulip pulsing with warmth. Upon seeing the flower, the little niffler danced with excitement and relieved himself. Montague shared the creature's delight with a simple smile.

Montague answered his spiritual friend by shaking his head. No.

"Very well," said the niffler. It stepped back into the ghost line and Montague watched it jump into the veil and disappear. Forever.

Montague held up the flower - the only colored item in the black panorama of ivory ghosts wandering toward a cold veil of gray. The other ghosts took notice, paused in their fated journey and turned their heads towards Montague. A middle-aged man, who had the looks of a Ministry Auror, attempted to wrest himself out of his prescribed path and reached directly for Montague.

No. I don't belong here.

Montague retreated from the man, then turned and sprinted away from the horrid arch and its omen of doom. No matter where he ran, ghostly forms sprang up out of the solid black depths below him. Many paid little to no attention to Montague's flight, but their sudden appearances startled him at every turn. He clutched the flower protectively to his chest. After dashing and dodging around the large transparent image of a Chinese Fireball dragon, Montague distinctly heard several voices call out his name in unison.

"Reginald Francis Montague."

He stopped. The voices called to him again.

"Reginald Francis Montague. Believe."

He brought the warm, glowing flower up close to his face.

Believing in the impossible has its rewards.

"I believe, I'd like to live," said Montague firmly to the flower. "I believe there's no place like Hogwarts. I believe I'd like to go there now." On his last word, Montague hurled the flower at the ground. The blackness exploded open at his feet and Montague was swallowed in a rushing whirlpool of brilliant gold and green.

He was falling. Again.

He was falling very fast.

He was beyond terminal velocity as he roared earthbound like a meteorite.

He was falling and he felt ecstatic; not because of where he was, but because he knew where he was going. He was above England; in a blink he was over the Hogwarts grounds; in the next blink he crashed through the top of the castle; in the next blink he was looking at a deathly pale image of himself lying in the hospital wing. In a concentrated charge, Montague slammed all his energy into the body before him. All his senses went on-line and he took huge, gasping breaths of chalky, heavily incensed air.

"I believe we've got him," said a familiar alto voice.