Chapter 71: Rules and Parcel
Wade raised an eyebrow and turned to look. It was Sibbald, embedded within the tapestry.
Every time he entered the Room of Requirement, he always saw this same scene first. Sometimes he’d watch Sibbald forcing the Giant into a ballet dress, dancing awkwardly. Other times, he’d see the Giant swinging a massive wooden club, cracking Sibbald’s head. Yet no matter the chaos, the two never spoke, never left the tapestry. They simply existed—locked in endless, silent conflict.
At first, Wade had assumed it was because tapestries were different from portraits…
Now, however, the Giant lay asleep beside the tapestry’s edge, while the wizard sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes fixed directly on him. His expression was grave, solemn.
“Sibbald?” Wade ventured, hesitantly.
“Not ‘Mr. Sibbald,’ if you don’t mind,” the wizard replied, shrugging. “Just call me Sibbald. That’s what everyone does.”
He paused, then asked, “I suppose you took something from the Room of Requirement?”
“Yes,” Wade admitted without hesitation. “But it wasn’t placed there by the Room itself. It was left behind by someone else—just like the broomstick I took before.”
Sibbald nodded slowly. “Whether it was put there by someone or not doesn’t matter, child. In this castle, anything abandoned by its master eventually ends up here—when forgotten, it becomes part of the Room. You may take what you need. Like the broomstick. But you must not take things you don’t need. And you must not use the Room to satisfy your own private desires.”
“Private desires?” Wade echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Like what?”
“Like selling the items inside for profit,” Sibbald said flatly. He paused, then added, “If you truly need money, you can search the clutter. There are likely some Galleons in there—enough to cover your daily needs.”
“What if I do take something I don’t need?” Wade pressed.
Sibbald’s voice turned heavy, almost sorrowful. “Then one day, what you took will return to Hogwarts in a way you’ll never wish to see. And you will be punished by the Magical Covenant—because you’ve broken the very purpose of entering this room.”
His tone was laced with such pity, as if he’d already seen Wade’s fate—wretched, broken, suffering for defying the unspoken law.
Beside him, the Giant stirred in its sleep, grunting softly, scratching its backside, then rolling over to continue snoring. Its stinking foot landed right in front of Sibbald, who wrinkled his nose and shifted to a new spot, regaining his composure before locking eyes with Wade once more.
“So,” Wade couldn’t help but chuckle, “what if I found a dangerous Dark Magic artifact in here—something I feared might harm other students? If I took it away to destroy it… would that still count as breaking the Covenant?”
“Oh—oh, well…” Sibbald faltered, clearly caught off guard. He frowned, pondering deeply before finally stammering, “In that case… it might actually be considered a good deed. The castle itself would thank you. No, that wouldn’t be a violation of the Covenant.”
“Either way, thanks for the warning, Sibbald,” Wade said, waving dismissively. “Once I’ve dealt with the dark magic above, I’ll return it.”
He turned and walked away.
Only after a few steps did he finally exhale, softly.
When the house-elf had finally guided him to the Room of Requirement, he’d once wondered: If I wanted a room full of Galleons or a Time-Turner, could the Room fulfill that wish?
Or—while studying inside—could he simply take every book, every alchemical tool, and carry them away?
Would the next time he returned, the room be empty… or would everything he needed still appear?
He’d thought long and hard. In the end, he’d resisted the temptation to test the Room’s limits. He wasn’t the first to find it. Countless students and professors before him had discovered its power. Voldemort had hidden a Horcrux here. And the House-elves of Hogwarts certainly weren’t ignorant of its existence.
If the Room truly allowed anything to be taken freely, then surely someone—anyone—before him would have noticed the loophole.
Not everyone was like Harry Potter in the original story—idealistic, noble, never tempted by power or wealth.
No. Not even Tom Riddle—cold, calculating, resourceful—had emptied the Room.
The only explanation was that he couldn’t. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t.
So Sibbald’s warning must have reached even him.
And given Riddle’s nature—master of curses, Slytherin heir—he wouldn’t have taken a talking tapestry’s words lightly.
He’d probably tried every trick in the book, only to find, in the end, that Sibbald was right.
The Room of Requirement—for those who truly need it.
Wade had long suspected that entering the room implied an unspoken covenant.
But now, with proof, he felt a pang of disappointment.
Who wouldn’t want something for nothing?
Wade slapped his own cheek lightly, reminding himself: You’ve already received more help than you deserve. Greed is a serpent that swallows the world. Don’t let desire blind you to what you truly want.
…
The next morning, the sky finally cleared.
After days of snow and endless rain, the students were ecstatic. Hundreds rose early, gathering in small groups across the grounds—walking, chatting, laughing, playing.
At breakfast, countless Owls streamed into the Great Hall, dropping parcels at students’ feet. Even with the Book of Friends, the owls hadn’t gone obsolete. They still flew across the skies of Britain, carrying packages of all shapes and sizes.
Eva landed beside Wade, dropping off a fresh batch of sweets and desserts made by Fiona. She pecked at his arm sharply—clearly annoyed at being left behind.
Wade tore off a piece of beef. Eva swallowed it, then cooed contentedly before taking flight.
He passed the treats around to his friends. Turning to Michael, he said, “Michael—”
“Hmm?” Michael looked up, already chewing. “Granny Gray’s peanut candy is amazing!”
“I’ll stash some in the Umbrella Room,” Wade said. “Take as much as you want. Oh, and—can you take a few photos for me later?”
“Sure thing!” Michael grinned. “Wait—you bought a Camera?”
“It was a Christmas gift from my father,” Wade replied.
“Then take some for me too,” Michael added. “I haven’t thought about taking photos since I got here.”
“Deal.”
They were just finishing breakfast when two more Owls swooped toward Wade—one dropped a letter, the other a large parcel.
Michael blinked. “You got this much from home?”
“No,” Wade said, examining the seal on the letter. “This isn’t from my parents.”
(End of Chapter)
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