It was exactly at 11 o’clock Draco slipped from the dormitory. Navigated through the seventh floor, his footsteps measured, not yet aware of a shadow lurking behind him. Upon the wall opposite Barnabas’ tapestry; he stopped. As if sensing his urgent need, an entrance magically revealed itself. He let the wall swallow him — into the room of requirements.

. . .

Inside was generously spacious. Innumerable curios piled up like mountains in shambolic patterns. Draco had lost count of how many times he had been there. A dozen, perhaps? Ah, would it matter if each time he returned with no result?

His gaze landed where the vanishing cabinet sat. Approaching it, his fingers traced over the knob. Repairing this cursed thing was all blood sweat and tears. But it was his last hope, and he dreaded giving up. If he failed, the safety of his family would be at stake. If he failed, the dark lord would—

No. He can’t let that happen.

“I’m running out of time,” he whispered to himself. As he was about to pull something out, a rustling startled him; his body tensed, he whirled about. He caught, to his left, a shade of fur, mingling with old, dusty books. He was surprised when that thing popped up its head and flinched — realising he was staring back.

A bird?

Hurriedly, its wings flapped, preparing for a flight. But Draco was faster. He reached out and grasped its petite body. “Where did you come from?” he watched the bird squirm, desperate to escape. Its eyes were unique, unlike that of an average canary, a strange intelligence in them. The way it stared at him, reminded him of someone.

Draco shuddered; disgust creeping up his spine. Nowise it can be Rory. He, one of his closest friends, could only dream of having eyes as mesmerising as the bird’s.

“I wonder what i can do with you,” he mused. He had tested the cabinet’s function with inanimate objects, thus far it had worked. But had he never considered using living beings. And what a coincidence! A bird here, in his hold. He could use it.