"It is a magical place I discovered. Whatever you need, it provides."
"I am completely lost," Anthony said, shaking his head in confusion.
"We can head up there tomorrow afternoon. You will see exactly what I mean."
Truth be told, Charlie had been itching to test the limits and rules of the Room of Requirement anyway. During his last visit, he had been too hyper-focused on practicing spells and had to abruptly cut his own curiosity short. Now, with two friends acting as willing test subjects, experimenting would be a whole lot easier.
The next day in the Hogwarts greenhouses, the fungi were growing at an alarming rate. The young wizards stared intently at their respective pots. Some of the Leaping Toadstools were already the size of clenched fists, while the runts of the litter were no bigger than dates.
Charlie eyed his own pot. His toadstool was a respectable fist-size, but it was far from the undisputed champion of the greenhouse. That honor belonged to the massive fungus sitting diagonally across from him, proudly cultivated by none other than Neville Longbottom.
"When it comes to plants, you really are the undisputed expert," Charlie whispered.
Neville's face instantly flushed a brilliant shade of crimson right up to the tips of his ears. He did not say a word, but a wide, beaming smile stretched across his face.
The cap of Charlie's toadstool was beginning to turn a vibrant red from the center outward. Every time he turned the soil, he could feel the little fungus trembling. It seemed to possess a primal, undeniable urge to rip itself free from the dirt and bounce away. By next week, the toadstools would undoubtedly be fully mature.
The moment Herbology ended, with plenty of time left before lunch, Anthony and Hector practically dragged Charlie out of the greenhouse. They were positively vibrating with impatience, desperate to see this so-called magical room. Resigned to his fate as a tour guide, Charlie led them all the way up to the seventh-floor corridor.
"Where is it? There aren't any classrooms around here," Anthony pointed out, looking around the empty hall.
"Besides this ridiculous tapestry of trolls doing ballet, there isn't anything particularly memorable around here," Hector muttered.
"You hit the nail on the head. It is exactly this ridiculous tapestry," Charlie laughed, stepping right in front of the woven monstrosity. "All you have to do is pace past this blank stretch of wall three times while concentrating hard on what you need. Then, a door will appear right out of thin air."
"Seriously? Let me try! How exactly do I think about it? Do I just mutter it in my head, or do I need to visualize the exact floor plan?" Anthony babbled.
Charlie nodded, genuinely curious about the nuances of the room's magic. "I usually just give it a general request. I haven't actually tried picturing a highly specific layout before."
"Then I will be the pioneer," Anthony declared confidently.
Charlie and Hector stepped back, giving him the floor. Anthony began to pace back and forth, furrowing his brow as he meticulously sketched out his desired room in his mind's eye.
Moments later, a highly polished door materialized on the previously blank wall.
"Bloody hell, it actually worked!" Hector and Anthony gasped in unison.
Eager to see the results, the trio pushed the door open and stepped inside. They found themselves in a spacious area. Smack in the middle of the room sat a small bed. On the right wall, there was a window, but a quick glance outside revealed nothing but solid, unyielding rock. Pushed right up against this useless window was a desk and chair, identical to the ones found in any standard Hogwarts classroom.
"What exactly did you ask for?" Charlie asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I pictured my bedroom back home," Anthony explained, looking around critically. "But that window is completely mental. And the furniture looks like it was nicked from a classroom. My desk at home looks nothing like that."
He wandered around the room, playing spot-the-difference between the magical construct and his actual bedroom.
"Actually, the layout is spot on, but every single item is wrong," Anthony continued, pointing things out. "Look at this bed. It has four posters and crimson hangings. I strongly suspect this is a Gryffindor bed. And this candlestick here is brass but studded with emeralds. Very Slytherin. As for the rug, it is the exact size of mine at home, but those earthy tones scream Hufflepuff."
"So what you are saying is, this magical room read your mind to get the blueprint, and then used whatever props it had lying around to replicate it?" Charlie asked. "Like piecing together a puzzle?"
"Exactly. It seems to be building what I want using spare parts it already has stored somewhere in the castle," Anthony concluded.
"Fascinating," Hector chimed in, his eyes gleaming. "But where on earth is it getting all this stuff?"
"Hurry up, let's try something else!" Anthony urged.
He and Hector practically sprinted out of the room. It was Hector's turn to experiment. Charlie and Anthony stepped aside to give him room to pace.
After a few tense moments of pacing, a towering set of double doors appeared. They were breathtakingly grand, standing at least twice as tall as Hagrid.
"What in Merlin's beard did you ask for?" Anthony yelped in surprise.
"I told the room I wanted to see its warehouse, the place where it hoards all these Hogwarts artifacts," Hector explained with a smug grin. "Those spare parts used to build your bedroom have to be stored somewhere, right?"
Charlie took the lead and placed his hands against the heavy wood. He did not even have to push hard; the massive doors swung inward automatically the moment he applied pressure.
Beyond the threshold lay an impossibly vast space, completely taken up by towering, mountainous piles of junk. Looking up, the ceiling vaulted dozens of feet into the air. A thick, suffocating smell of centuries-old dust immediately assaulted their nostrils.
"So, I guess this room does not do real windows, does it?" Anthony observed, coughing slightly. "It gave my bedroom a window frame, but looking out was just a blank wall."
"And judging by this thick layer of dust, there is absolutely zero ventilation in here," Charlie added.
The three of them ventured deeper inside, the giant doors clicking shut behind them. Unfazed by the sheer scale of the mess, they pressed on. They passed mountains of broken cabinets, wobbly chairs, splintered broomsticks, and thousands of dusty bottles and jars. There were stacks of chipped plates, moldy curtains, and even, bizarrely, a cracked porcelain urinal.
"Warehouse is a generous term," Anthony snorted. "I would call this the ultimate magical rubbish dump."
"I wouldn't be so quick to judge," Hector disagreed, shaking his head. He ran his hand over a piece of furniture sitting nearby. It was an exceptionally beautiful table. It had no drawers and was crafted from thick, solid wood, featuring elegant, understated carvings along its edges. It was a masterpiece of simple craftsmanship.
Then, out of nowhere, Hector looked up at the ceiling and spoke to the room itself. "Hey, do me a favor. Put this exact table in the next room we ask for."
"I have tried talking to it before. It does not seem to be sentient in that way. It cannot fully process complex verbal commands," Charlie warned him.
"Is that so?" Hector nodded slowly. "So you are saying it has no memory function?"
Anthony looked equally puzzled by the concept. "Shall we test that theory?" he proposed, his eyes lighting up with a new idea.
"By all means," Charlie replied, more than happy to let his friends play scientists with the magical architecture.
They retraced their steps, exiting the room of hidden junk. They waited in the corridor until the grand doors faded back into solid stone. Once the wall was clear, Anthony stepped up to bat once more.
"This time, I just want my bedroom," he announced to the others. "I am not going to visualize the layout or the details at all. I will just think the words: 'I need my bedroom.'"