Means to an End

Looking back on that day, no one could quite remember how they had made to the castle, much less inside of it.

Nevertheless, no one spoke for what seemed like a long period of time. Fear and happiness and anxiety raged in each person: they had finally found it! What will they find inside it? Is this really what we want to do?

It was unfair to say that any one person began moving towards the school first. They travelled as one entity, united in their desire to unlock the secrets awaiting them in the school. To speak was unthinkable; to speak would be to shatter the calm, eerie silence around them--but something was wrong.

"Morgan."

Hermi's voice was low behind him and held a tremor of anticipation and fear in it.

"What is it?" he replied in the same, soft tones.

"Have you noticed it yet?"

"Noticed what?"

"The trees, the clouds, the weather..."

He willed her not to speak of it, but she pressed on.

"It's early morning here," she continued. "And the sky over Hogsmeade...it's bright and sunny. There's almost a visible barrier between the weather here and the weather back at our tents."

"We can't do anything about it."

"I'm not saying we should. I'm just adding it to the list of things we need to figure out once we're inside..."

He nodded shortly. The group was finally before what had to be the entrance to the castle. The enormous doors were shut, but the barest glimmer of stone flooring peeked out from a crack between them. Morgan breathed deeply of cool air and stepped forward to grasp the iron handles. A current of something magical assaulted him at his touch but was gone before he could say it actually happened.

He pulled, and the group behind him winced.

But no creaks or groans greeted their ears. The doors swung open easily as though they hadn't been standing for five centuries without use. Hermi and Morgan both breathed sighs of relief, which almost instantaneously caught in their throats.

The stones were pulsating, shooting bursts of energy into stationary figures which Morgan's horrified mind identified as people.

"They're still alive," breathed Hermi. "Simply frozen into a single, solitary moment..."

All of them are holding wands, as well," said Morgan, breaking out of his stupor and checking each person. "Dinah, I need you and Marcus to...what the hell?"

All of them, except Hermi, bore similar looks upon their faces, looks which greatly resembled the effects of...

"Obliviated!" cried Hermi. "They've all forgotten...but how? How has this happened? Joseph! Wake up!"

"Lovely day," commented Connor idly. "This meadow is absolutely ideal for a picnic."

"Wonder how we got here," said Andrea, sounding totally unconcerned about finding out the answer to that. "Perhaps it's time to leave, then."

"No!" Morgan and Hermi shouted at the same time, but their companions suddenly disappeared.

"What just happened?" asked Hermi in a very small, frightened tone.

"The castle rejected them."

The woman blinked. That wasn't Morgan's voice.

Slowly, the man and woman turned to look back at the crowd of glowing figures behind them.

A young man, no older than eighteen, stood amidst the unseeing people. He wasn't very tall, had messy black hair, and his vibrant green eyes were framed by a pair of round spectacles. He wore a pair of grey slacks and a white button-down shirt with a red and gold tie. A black robe was draped over his shoulders.

Morgan and Hermi had never seen robes worn outside of proper weddings before. But there was something else about this boy in archaic fashions which unnerved them even further.

They could see right through him. Literally.

"I'd call for tea, but the house elves are bound to the spell just as the people are."

They were sitting in a very warm and comfortable room, though the flames inside the fireplace did not move. The ghost-like figure had led them here and upon seating them, began making small talk.

"Excuse me," Hermi interrupted politely, "but who are you?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I'm so used to everyone knowing who I am that I forgot how much time has gone by...Harry Potter, pleasure to meet you. And you two are...?"

"Dr. Morgan Finnegan," answered Morgan reluctantly, recognizing the ghost's name from a story Hermi had told him last week. "Archaeologist." Harry Potter nodded appreciatively.

"I always thought archaeology was fascinating," he said. Turning to Hermi he said, "And you are definitely a Weasley, if I'm not mistaken."

She gasped. "How did you know?"

"It's the hair. And your name is?"

"Ginevra Hermione Weasley, but please call me Hermi."

"Named after Ginny and Hermione, eh?" Harry chuckled. "I can't wait till the two of them find out."

"What did you mean when you said the castle rejected our companions?" demanded Morgan. The spectre shook his head.

"It has a habit of doing that," Harry replied. "I suspect it's because they either have blood in them that doesn't care, or they have traitorous blood."

"But their ancestors searched for this castle!" cried Hermi. Harry's grin faded.

"Did they?" he remarked mildly. "They never found it."

"But--Cho Chang! She searched for years..."

"That doesn't mean her descendent cares," replied the ghost. He shrugged. "Perhaps he or she did care. The castle doesn't have to have a reason for rejecting people. It might have preferred to have fewer intruders and thought you two were the least likely to cause a big stir."

Oh, we're going to cause a stir, alright, thought Hermi viciously.

"But why Obliviate them?" continued Morgan.

"I can't answer that. I've been stuck inside here for more than half a millennium and still don't understand the way the castle thinks."

Hermi blinked, getting sidetracked for a moment. "It thinks? How can a castle think?"

"It's not just a castle." Harry rolled his transparent eyes. "It was created by four of the most powerful beings in wizarding history--they endowed it with many capabilities, one of which being conscious thought. That's how it sorted its students for the first few years--the Hat was the misconceived first choice; it didn't come into use until later."

"Could you stop for a minute?" Morgan asked. The archaeologist could feel a headache coming on. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

Harry blinked, and then realization dawned on his face. "The Ministry wiped out almost all knowledge of Hogwarts, didn't it? Merlin, this must've really hurt them..." The wicked grin on his face startled his two 'guests'.

"I have something of an idea of what you're saying," said Hermi slowly. "Why did the Founders switch to the Sorting Hat though?"

"Salazar Slytherin tricked the school into rejecting Muggle-borns and half-bloods when they entered, much like it did to the others in your group," explained Harry. "Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff decided to bind the castle's thought process to insignificant matters so that it only 'spoke' to people if the need was great enough. Its own special brand of magic was bound also."

"What kind of magic did it have?"

"Earth magic--it's very slow-acting, but extremely powerful and effective. What you saw it the Entrance Hall was the school's magic in the works."
"Wait--just wait," interrupted Morgan again. "You said three of its creators bound it--am I right?"

Harry smiled. "Yes."

"Then let me ask a dumb question--how is it working magic now?"

"I woke it up."

"...excuse me?"

"I said, I woke it up," repeated Harry with the same smile on his face. "It was very grateful to me for doing so."

"I can imagine," Morgan replied in a dazed monotone. Hermi's expression was horrified.

"Why?" asked Hermi.

"I needed to fulfil a prophecy," the ghost said, the smile fading slightly. "And I succeeded, with the help of the castle. But that's all ancient history to you, of course. But you're archaeologists, so I guess you're interested in this stuff. Unfortunately, I have very little time to explain it all. You should be going soon."

"What?" Morgan gasped. "We only just arrived--and what about the people in the school?"

"What about them?"

"We came here to find out what happened to our ancestors," explained Hermi hurriedly, wanting to stall their ghastly host a little longer. "Now that we know they're still alive, or close to it, we'd like to have them back."

The ghost gave her a strange look. "Get them back? I'm not sure that's such a good idea."
"Why not?" Hermi demanded. "You said you succeeded--the school shouldn't need to imprison them anymore."

"If Hogwarts was to let them go before they were ready, they'd crumble into dust seconds later," replied Harry, as if Hermi and Morgan should have known that fact from the start. "It only started to give them back their life-forces two hundred years ago. It took the same amount of time to do what I'd asked of it."

"Then it should be done!" cried Hermi. Harry frowned at her, and then looked off into the distance as if he were listening to something. His expression

"I shouldn't be here anymore," he stated and began to fade away. "I've said too much to you...the school's not happy with me."

"Wait!" yelled Morgan desperately. "All we want is to free you and the others!"

"I believe you," was the reply he got. "But Hogwarts seems to be losing its patience with you asking questions and such...find the Room of Requirement...I'll be waiting there--we can talk without it interrupting like this."

It really is such a beautiful day, thought Andrea. The other people around her (people she didn't know at all but didn't mind) were walking down a hill to where several tents were pitched neatly in a row. What seemed to be a deserted village stood a little further off.

"This is all my stuff," stated one of the men with a frown on his face. "But I thought I'd left all this in Egypt at my dig..."

"Very odd," agreed one of the young women. Andrea's muddled mind vaguely recognized her but offered no name to join with the face.

"So all of this belongs to us," she said. The others nodded. She reached for her wand and proceeded to shrink and pack all her things wordlessly.

While the unknowns followed her example, Andrea took a moment to look back in the direction they had come from.

A beautiful empty meadow greeted her eyes, and she smiled softly. Perhaps I'll come back to visit here someday.

The familiar feel of Apparition could not, however, dispel the thought that she'd left something wonderful behind--something that she'd never come close to knowing ever again.