Post by Nathan Potter on Jan 22, 2006 15:10:30 GMT -5
Creaky, eerie corridors weaved throughout the castle's lower levels toward the caretaker's office. The dwelling had an infamous reputation for bearing the cruelest of Hogwarts staff, past and present. Hardly any young witch or wizard worked up the courage to lurk within the depths of the caretaker's office let alone the minor staff wing. Unfortunately for Nathan Potter's sake, this was his destination.
The fair-skinned do-gooder glanced down at the rumpled, yellow-ish hued parchment in his large hands, skimming over the words. His owl had delivered it to him during lunch one Sunday, and to his surprise the letter had no signature at the bottom. It was simply composed of a strange arrangement of letters, in what he thought to be a foreign tongue.
"Het Jectob Uyo Ekes si ni eth racekerats ficofe"
Nathan was damn-near positive the words were of some different language, and he had poured over them for weeks. Identifying which language that was, however, was more difficult than he could have ever imagined. One day, however, Art Studies brought him the answer to the mysterious riddle. The words were simply scrambled!
At the very bottom, in his own hand-writing, James had scribbled the answer.
"The object you seek is in the caretakers office"
Perhaps the riddle was somewhat obvious, and unoriginal; something an amateur might come up with, but James' constant search for something extraordinary led him in the wrong direction. Maybe some things were simpler than they seemed.
Approaching the arched, oak door, James swore he could feel the adrenaline spark up and begin to snake through his veins. The dilapidated condition of the sign simply labeling the room was most likely a sad reminder of the caretaker's disrespected position. Tapping on the door with a single knuckle, James leaned in and listened for movement. Usually, light escaped through the slot beneath the door, as though it were another student in the school. This particular evening, however, the lights appeared to be off.
James placed a cautious hand on the seemingly rotted handle, tentatively urging the door forward. Suddenly, a presence was felt behind him. Was someone coming?
Full of terror at the thought of being caught, James escaped into a nearby broom closet. Staring into the yawning doorway, James was filled with regret. The closet's condition was absolutely disgusting. Gulping the shallow air, he slipped into the darkness and swung the door almost entirely shut. Leaving a slight crack, he peered out into the corridor.
The fair-skinned do-gooder glanced down at the rumpled, yellow-ish hued parchment in his large hands, skimming over the words. His owl had delivered it to him during lunch one Sunday, and to his surprise the letter had no signature at the bottom. It was simply composed of a strange arrangement of letters, in what he thought to be a foreign tongue.
"Het Jectob Uyo Ekes si ni eth racekerats ficofe"
Nathan was damn-near positive the words were of some different language, and he had poured over them for weeks. Identifying which language that was, however, was more difficult than he could have ever imagined. One day, however, Art Studies brought him the answer to the mysterious riddle. The words were simply scrambled!
At the very bottom, in his own hand-writing, James had scribbled the answer.
"The object you seek is in the caretakers office"
Perhaps the riddle was somewhat obvious, and unoriginal; something an amateur might come up with, but James' constant search for something extraordinary led him in the wrong direction. Maybe some things were simpler than they seemed.
Approaching the arched, oak door, James swore he could feel the adrenaline spark up and begin to snake through his veins. The dilapidated condition of the sign simply labeling the room was most likely a sad reminder of the caretaker's disrespected position. Tapping on the door with a single knuckle, James leaned in and listened for movement. Usually, light escaped through the slot beneath the door, as though it were another student in the school. This particular evening, however, the lights appeared to be off.
James placed a cautious hand on the seemingly rotted handle, tentatively urging the door forward. Suddenly, a presence was felt behind him. Was someone coming?
Full of terror at the thought of being caught, James escaped into a nearby broom closet. Staring into the yawning doorway, James was filled with regret. The closet's condition was absolutely disgusting. Gulping the shallow air, he slipped into the darkness and swung the door almost entirely shut. Leaving a slight crack, he peered out into the corridor.
