Night fell over Hogwarts like a velvet-black cloak, speckled with stars and silence.
Nathael and Celestia wandered the castle corridors, taking advantage of the students' absence and the calm that only midnight could offer. Every stone, every portrait, every corner held a secret—and they were determined to listen.
So far, their discoveries had been modest: a passageway behind a tapestry of the four founders leading to an empty chamber; another behind a statue of a one-eyed witch opening into the dungeons; and a staircase that only worked on Tuesdays during the new moon.
"Nothing extraordinary," Celestia purred softly. "Hogwarts must keep its true treasures buried deeper."
"Patience," Nathael said. "Ancient castles don't reveal themselves in a single night."
Just then, a dark figure emerged from a corner.
"Hey!" rasped a voice. "What are you doing out of your quarters at this hour?"
It was Argus Filch, hunched and ever-suspicious, with Mrs. Norris at his side—her eyes seeming to see straight into one's soul.
Nathael didn't flinch.
"I'm the academic consultant, Mr. Filch. I have the Headmaster's permission to inspect the castle's magical areas."
Filch scowled but didn't argue. He knew Nathael wasn't a student, and though he trusted no one, he respected authority—and documents signed by Dumbledore.
"Fine," he muttered. "But don't make noise. And don't touch anything."
At that moment, Celestia approached Mrs. Norris and let out a soft, meaningful meow.
Filch's cat tilted her head, as if replying in kind.
"She says you're loyal," Celestia said, looking at Filch. "And that Mrs. Norris… cares for you. More than she'd ever admit."
Filch blinked.
Then, to Nathael's surprise, he smiled.
A small, crooked, almost imperceptible smile.
But it was a smile.
"She… is all I have," he said quietly.
He turned and shuffled away, muttering,
"I'll give her premium fish tonight…"
Nathael and Celestia exchanged a look.
"I never thought Filch had a human side," Nathael said.
"Everyone does," Celestia replied. "Some just hide it better."
They continued their exploration.
As they walked down the portrait corridor, two figures stepped out from behind a suit of armor.
"Shh!" they hissed in unison.
It was the Weasley twins—Fred and George—tousled robes, messy red hair, and mischievous grins that promised chaos.
"Mr. Grauheim," Fred said, "please don't punish us."
"Or take points!" George added. "Gryffindor's already in the negative!"
Nathael laughed.
"I'm not a professor. And I don't take points."
The twins relaxed.
"So… what are you doing wandering at midnight?" Fred asked.
"The same as you, I suppose," Nathael said. "Looking for what the castle hides."
George leaned in, eyes gleaming.
"We heard you're a treasure hunter."
"Something like that," Nathael said.
"And that your cat," Fred added, pointing at Celestia, "talks."
"And never lies," Celestia said dryly.
The twins laughed.
"Then maybe…" George whispered, "you can help us with something!"
They leaned closer until their heads nearly touched.
"We found something odd," Fred said. "On the seventh floor. There's a corridor… and sometimes, a door appears."
"A door?" Nathael asked.
"Yes," George said. "But it's not always there. One day it's there—tall, with a bronze handle. The next… nothing. Just a wall."
"Have you gone in?" Celestia asked.
"No," Fred admitted. "We're afraid that if we do, we won't be able to leave. Or that something—or someone—will trap us."
"But," George said with a grin, "it's the kind of magic worthy of Hogwarts. Unpredictable. Like the stairs."
Nathael and Celestia exchanged a glance.
"Thank you," Nathael said. "That was very helpful."
They took their leave with a nod and hurried off toward the seventh floor.
The corridor was empty.
Silent.
Cold.
And doorless.
"Are you sure this is the place?" Celestia asked.
"The Weasleys don't lie when it comes to mischief," Nathael said.
He drew his wand and cast a spell.
"Revelio Arcanum."
Runes shimmered in the air—but revealed nothing.
No hidden magic.
No traps.
Just a plain wall.
"Strange," Nathael said.
They walked the corridor's length.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Nothing.
"I'm tired," Nathael muttered. "I want to sleep."
At that instant, the door appeared.
Not with a bang. Not with smoke.
It was simply… there.
A tall door of dark wood, with a bronze gargoyle-shaped handle.
Nathael and Celestia exchanged a look and rushed inside, as if fearing it might vanish.
The interior was… unexpected.
A vast room filled with comfortable furniture: plush sofas, soft beds, armchairs that seemed to hug you, tables with steaming teapots, and shelves lined with books of bedtime stories.
"This makes no sense," Nathael frowned. "A secret room… just for resting?"
Celestia, however, watched closely.
"Before it appeared… you said you wanted to sleep."
Nathael blinked.
"Yes."
"And the door appeared—
with exactly what you needed."
"Then… this isn't a room," Nathael said, amazed. "It's a kind of Room of Requirement."
"A treasure," Celestia said. "Even if it holds no objects, it's still a treasure."
Nathael walked through the space. He touched a sofa. Sat in an armchair. Even tasted the tea. Everything was real. Warm. Perfect.
"Interesting. In all our adventures, we've never encountered anything like this."
But then, the first rays of dawn began to peek over the horizon.
"We should go," Celestia said. "We haven't slept, and my fur is starting to fluff."
"And I have to teach my students in a few hours," Nathael added.
They stepped out.
The door vanished behind them, as if it had never existed.
But both were already planning to return—curious to see just how far the room would go to fulfill their needs.
"Today was a good day," Celestia said as they walked back.
"Yes," Nathael agreed. "Our stay at Hogwarts is starting to bear fruit."