The Wandmaker

The Service Room

C H A P T E R s i x

Symbida sat quietly studying the strange room around her for the fifth or sixth time from her vantage point in the corner. It was a surprisingly unremarkable room, with several bits of furniture littered around the place; there was a yellow plush rug in the middle of the relatively small room, as well as several straight backed wooden chairs and two dark orange armchairs, one of which she was occupying, and small coffee table that lay a few metres away from her stockinged feet. Other than a small fireplace that held a small but stubborn fire and a delicate chandelier, the room was blank cream wall and polished wood floor.

This was where Professor Gawndrey had brought her. They had ran until she was out of breath, and then ran again until they reached the seventh floor left corridor, instructed her to walk three times back and forth by a blank piece of wall, thinking of what she needed at that point in time.

Slightly bewildered, she had followed his orders, thinking I need somewhere to hide from Lampurn, I need somewhere to hide from Lampurn. On the third pass, a door had materialised on the wall, and Professor Gawndrey had hurried her through it, summoning a house elf from the kitchens to explain 'the room' in more detail.

Then he had left to resume dinner and 'try and keep Lampurn off her track'. But Symbida knew better than to believe that he would jeopardise his job just for one student.

The house elf had been slightly more detailed in her description of 'the room'. She explained in depth that the room was only known to the Potions professor, a small number of students from since the school had first opened, and the kitchen elves. The kitchen elves knew it as The Service Room, because it gave its services to those in need, while reportedly a pair of students a decade ago called it The Come and Go Room. If someone was in need, the room would provide. Symbida had listened with rapt attention, intrigued by the information and unable to tear her eyes from the slightly repulsing sight of the elf.

Having grown up on a farm, Symbida had had her fair share of dirty creatures and grimy sights, but her stomach still turned at seeing the waxy, pale skin, the huge, bat like ears and the grime and dirt ingrained through the house elf's short hair and nails.
As the house elf turned to apparatus with a crack, Symbida was suddenly struck with an idea.

"Wait! Do you know about that oil painting over on the fourth floor corridor? It is a cherry blossom tree."

The house elf thought for a moment, plucking at the grey woollen bag the she was wearing. "Sorry miss, no, Tippy does not know of it. However, if it helps, it must be very new because Tippy always walks around the castle to clean every week or two and Tippy has not found it before."

Symbida sighed. At least she knew that it must have been put up by a student or teacher in the last few weeks. "Are you Tippy?" She asked.

The house elf nodded vigorously. "Yes, miss," she squeaked, puffing her chest out proudly, "I am Tippy, and Tippy is very honoured to be at your service."

Symbida tried to wrinkle her nose as inconspicuously as possible. "Uh, yeah, thank you Tippy. You are free to go now." With a nod, Tippy stepped away from the furniture and disappeared smartly with a crack.

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Symbida was getting extremely bored and extremely hungry. It had been hours since she had been at dinner, and even the she hadn't been able to eat anything before Dail had confronted her. She was starving, as well as curious to know more about the painting, and the portraits throughout the school.

She thought about what the house elf, Tippy had said. "If someone was in need, the room would provide." What if the room could provide even if you were in it? It was worth a shot.

She closed her eyes and thought in a direct and concentrated sort of way. I want to read a book about magical paintings. Then she listened.

There was nothing. No pop as anything was conjured into existence, no clatter as books fell onto a table.

She opened her eyes.

As she had expected, there was nothing. Frowning, she tried again. Once again, nothing happened. What was she missing? If someone was in need, the room would provide. But it wasn't providing. What was she missing?

She tried to get into a comfortable position on the chair, and eventually settled for lying across the chair, with her head tipping back over one armrest and her legs dangling over the other. Blocking out the crackling of the fire and the gentle tinkling of the chandelier, Symbida closed her eyes and tried to think.

At first, thinking didn't work. Within minutes of running through the possibilities of The Service Room, Symbida found her thoughts invaded by images and thoughts of the red headed, bad tempered headmistress.

After being exposed to magic, Symbida didn't think that she could ever go back to living on the small farm that her father owned without using magic ever again. But things were looking grim. Headmistress Lampurn seemed livid - and Symbida wasn't quite sure that she would calm down anytime soon. She couldn't hide in here forever. And once she was discovered, Symbida had a growing suspicion that she would be expelled, no matter how long she waited.

But she needed to stay here. Hogwarts was where she belonged now.

Ahah, that was it! Symbida opened her eyes again in realisation. She needed a place to hide, whereas she wanted a book about the paintings. She hadn't even searched the library for books about magical paintings yet, there was no way that she was desperate enough to need a book on them.

Content with her deduction, her thoughts drifted to the farm, and how it was before her father and her had found out she was a witch. Before she knew it, she had drifted off into a light slumber.

Thanks for reading! Cheers, PotatoSink