Magic? || Years 1-5

Divination: Year 3

The Great Hall emptied out slowly as their first lesson approached. Ron glanced down at his course schedule.

"We'd better go, look, Divination's at the top of North Tower. It'll take us ten minutes to get there..." He showed them the schedule, tapping the first subject.

So Amisty shoved the rest of her toast into her mouth, waved goodbye to the twins, and walked down the hall.

Passing the Slytherin table, as was expected, Malfoy pretended to faint once again, this time even more dramatic than before.

The laughter that followed was booming, echoing after them as they left the hall.

"There's -- got -- to -- be -- a -- shortcut," Ron fought out through his panting as they climbed up the seventh staircase. The North Tower was at the very top of the castle, a place they had never been to before. When they finally reached the top of the staircase, they were met with a boring painting of a plain of grass hanging on the wall.

"I think it's this way," Hermione started down the empty right passageway.

"Can't be. That's south, look, you can see a bit of the lake out of the window..." Ron argued, pointing down it.

Harry tapped Amisty's shoulder, pointing over to the painting.

A grey pony had just walked into frame, grazing on the grass calmly.

A few seconds later, with Hermione and Ron still arguing behind them, a short knight with a heavy suit of armor stomped on.

"Aha! What villains are these, that trespass upon private lands! Come to scorn at my fall, perchance? Draw, you knaves, you dogs!" His speech was a jumble of words and he started swinging his sword wildly.

One particularly wild swing sent him flying to the ground, facedown.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, inching closer to the painting.

"Get back, you scurvy braggart! Back, you rogue!" He shouted, wielding his sword once more and tried to get up by pushing it against the ground.

But all it did was sink into the ground and he couldn't get the sword out. He groaned, sitting back down on the grass and pushing up the visor of his helmet.

"Listen, we're looking for the North Tower. You don't know the way, do you?" Harry asked before the knight went back to his gibberish.

"A quest! Come follow me, dear friends, and we shall find our goal, or else shall perish bravely in the charge!" He leaped to his feet, tried to drag his sword up from the ground and failed, tried to mount the fat pony and failed. Not swayed, in the same triumphant voice, he shouted. "On foot then, good sirs and gentle ladies! On! On!"

And he disappeared to the left of the frame.

They raced after him, not really needing to keep him in sight as his armor was thunderous.

"Be of stout heart, the worse is yet to come!" He shouted from a few paintings in front of them, startling a group of women hanging on a narrow spiral staircase.

They raced up the stairs, occasionally tripping on their own feet and their heads spinning until they heard the faint murmur of chatting students.

"Farewell! Farewell, my comrades-in-arms! If ever you have need of noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!" He cheered before disappearing down the rows of paintings he had stormed through before.

"Yeah, we'll call you if we ever need someone mental," Ron muttered, wiping his forehead as they climbed the last few steps. The rest of the class was standing there waiting.