Polly scrambled through the undergrowth, scratching her knees and hands, tearing her dress. She saw the boys ahead of her, joking and laughing as they finally got out of the forest. This had been a terrible idea.
It was the afternoon of October 31st. Halloween. It had seemed like good fun when Ed, a boy from her neighbourhood, had suggested they spend the afternoon outside, looking for ghosts and other spooky creatures. Of course John came along too. He was Ed’s friend, and lived just a few houses down from her.
“Come on, Polly! Catch up!”
She scrambled faster. The idea didn’t seem like much fun anymore. She didn’t know that spending the afternoon outside had meant fighting their way through the old forest where none of the adults ever went. They had reached the other end of it now, after almost two hours of endless walking.
“Polly! Come on!”
She hurried onwards, and, with a final snag at the hem of her dress, broke free of the forest. They were on what seemed like a great, dried out marsh now. Brambles were rooted in the soil, and dry, yellow grass matted beneath their feet as they walked on. Polly coughed as the dust the boys’ feet kicked up entered her lungs. Ed slowed down to smack her on the back until she stopped and breathed the fresh, still warm autumn evening air.
At least it wasn’t raining.
John was ahead of them now, his red hair seeming to glow with the light of the sun setting over the hilltops. He turned back, saw Ed helping her, and sneered.
“We should have known better than to bring you, Polly. You’re just slowing us down. You can go home now, if you like. This is all too much for little girls.”
Polly glared back at him. “This has nothing to do with my being a girl!” she snapped. “And besides, I’m not little! I’m ten and a half! Just because you’re eleven doesn’t mean you’re that great!”
John just laughed and turned back around. Polly fumed. She’d show him! Girls could spend Halloween outside just as well as boys could!
Ignoring the pain from her scratched legs, she bit her lips and briskly walked on. Soon, she and Ed had drawn level with John once more. Polly pretended he wasn’t there. What a stuck up know-it-all, she thought.
As the sun fell steadily closer towards the hilltops, they noticed a dark shadow on the horizon. Looking at each other, they sped up, in silent agreement to find out what it was.
They slowly drew nearer, and started seeing it in more detail. It seemed like an old ruin, what must once have been a castle. Polly could see John grinning, and knew just what he was thinking. Ed, however, didn’t look so confident.
“Well, I don’t know about you boys,” she said, putting special emphasis on the last word, “but I think that’s the perfect place to spend Halloween.”
Ed gulped. John, however, laughed. “Oh really? Sure you aren’t scared of the dark? I could understand if you were. I mean, since you’re such a girl.”
“I am not!” she spat back. How infuriating could he be?
“Fine! Prove it!” he laughed. “I dare you to spend the entire night in that castle!”
Polly looked grim. She would be in so much trouble. But there was no way she was going to look like a wimp in front of John. “Alright, I will!” she replied. Both boys looked at her, equally surprised. “You can come along too, if you like,” she added. “Unless, of course, you’re too scared.”
“Of course I’m coming too. We can’t let a girl go into a dark castle all on her own. A man has to take care of her!” John replied. Polly rolled her eyes. Man? She thought to herself. As if.
They both looked at Ed. He, however, stopped in his tracks and pointed towards an old sign they had been approaching. ‘Danger. Keep Out’ had been scrawled across it in bright red paint. They were close to the old castle now, so there was no mistaking what the sign was referring to.
“There is no way I am going in there,” Ed whispered, his voice shaking. The sky had darkened considerably, dark clouds gathering above. “And I sure hope neither of you are stupid enough to try.”
Polly was starting to feel scared too, now. A single look at John, though, made her realize that there was no way she was backing down now. Out of spite, she took a few steps towards the castle.
As soon as she stepped past the sign, something strange happened. Suddenly, she felt a very strong urge to go back, away from the castle. Her mother told her to be home by dinner. Mary was going to sleep over at her house today. Ed was going to be so mad. Wouldn’t her puppy be scared in the dark without her at home?
She was about to turn back when she caught sight of the look on John’s face. He had noticed her hesitation. “Scared, are you?” he asked.
“Am not!” she replied, and took a few more steps forwards. The urge to turn back became stronger. But she couldn’t. Not with John watching. “Why aren’t you coming? Scared?” she asked.
“No! Come on, Ed, let’s go.” And with that, John too walked towards the castle. Polly could see him hesitate just as he had when he passed the sign, but he moved on.
“I’m not coming.” Ed looked pale and afraid. A single drop of rain landed on his face, and he jumped. Polly looked up towards the sky. It was going to pour any minute.
“All right, fine,” she said, exasperated. “Go home. But don’t you dare tell my mum anything, okay? Tell her I’m sleeping over at Mary’s house.” There was no turning back now.
“And tell mine I’m sleeping over at yours,” John added. Ed just stared at them, and then turned and broke into a run, making for the forest, towards home.
Polly and John were left there, standing just beyond the sign, looking at each other. The rain was beginning to come down now, the thick drops hitting the ground with audible plops. Those which hit Polly’s dark, curly hair crept slowly down her face, dirtied from the dust she had gathered on her journey here.
“Well?” John asked after a while, as though it was Polly’s fault they hadn’t moved yet.
She just turned away from him and walked towards the ruin. If anything, it would give her cover from the rain. With every step she took, the urge to turn back became stronger. But she couldn’t. Not with John there, right behind her, ready to laugh at any sign of hesitation.
They reached the ruin, climbing over eroded rocks scattered across the dusty ground. There seemed to be something of a courtyard, and then a large set of stairs leading to what must once have been an entrance hall of sorts.
Suddenly, there was a loud CLANG! behind her. Polly jumped and turned around immediately. John was sprawled across the ground, his left foot resting on what looked like an old, rusty set of armour. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Tripped.”
Polly rolled her eyes, trying to calm her breathing. “Watch where you put your feet,” she snapped, and kicked a pebble towards him. John jumped at the sound it made as it hit the ancient sheets of metal. Still inwardly shaking, Polly laughed and faced the courtyard once more.
They progressed across the littered area. Ahead of them was a large, wooden door, standing upright surprisingly well, considering that the walls that once supported it had crumbled down so far that Polly could see that there was nothing on the other side. Beside the large one was a much smaller, less conspicuous one. It, too, seemed preserved as if by magic. Polly looked at John, who nodded. It was a good a place as any.
Polly, who was closer to the small door, slowly opened it and peeked inside. She saw a room, much larger than any in her home, but small compared to the one they had come from. Like the door, this room seemed untouched by the years, the damp stone walls still intact, the door at the opposite end of it holding no trace of decay.
John stepped beside her, looking inside. “Afraid?” she asked. “No,” he replied. Together, after fighting the strongest wave of urges to turn back yet, they took a step forward, and then another, and shut the door behind them.
Suddenly, everything changed. The crumbled walls on the side of the room where they had come from were intact once more, matching the rest of the room. It seemed as though, at the instant they had closed the door behind them, the place had become real. Polly gasped.
They could hear voices.
No more than a faint murmur, but definitely human voices. They were coming from the other side of the door across the room. Polly looked at John, who was looking at her.
“Scared?” he whispered.
“No,” she whispered back. It was a blatant lie, but she couldn’t back down now.
They crossed the room on tiptoes, jumping whenever they made a sound. Upon reaching the door, they froze, each waiting for the other to take the incentive.
Shaking slightly, but trying to hide it, Polly extended a hand and carefully lowered the handle. With a shrieking complaint from the door’s hinges, she carefully opened it, just a crack, then a finger’s breadth, then far enough to see through, just a little.
Polly shrieked, but the sound was muffled by John’s hand covering her mouth.
The door led into another room, a hall, larger than anything she had seen before, large enough to fit her entire house several times. And she could see people, hundreds of people, children, teenagers, adults. They were seated across long, wooden tables, eating, talking, laughing. They wore cloaks and robes, and pointed black hats. It seemed as though they were gathered for a feast.
A rat scampered past them, eliciting another shriek from Polly, which was, again, stopped by John’s hand. She watched the rodent walk between the legs of students, before being scooped up by a boy, not much older than her, with bright red hair and freckles.
Polly looked up. She shrieked again, but this time, John wasn’t ready to muffle the sound. He, too, was shocked. Pumpkins were floating above them, terrifying faces carved into them, flickering with the glow of candles within. But they weren’t hung there, or resting on poles, or attached to walls. They were flying!
And there were bats, real bats, hovering near the ceiling, zooming between the floating pumpkins, swooping down towards the long tables. Polly would have screamed, but she was too shocked.
This was Halloween.
Her eyes returned to the people feasting and chatting. She was watching a boy with tousled, black hair, glasses, and an oddly shaped scar on his head bring a piece of potato towards his mouth when, behind her, John, who had been leaning over her in order to see, lost his balance.
They tumbled forwards, into the great hall. As they landed, there was a loud BANG! Polly screamed. They had been spotted. What now? She covered her head with her hands and closed her eyes, anticipating shouts of surprise or anger, expecting to be grabbed or shoved or bewitched.
When nothing happened for a few moments, she carefully lifted her head. No one had noticed them. All heads were turned towards a man who had stumbled in through the large door they had seen earlier. His entrance must have caused the noise.
She was just wondering at the odd turban he was wearing when he stuttered something she could not hear and fell to the ground.
There were shouts and screams now; everyone was in uproar, running around aimlessly. Polly felt a tug on her hand and turned to see John’s terrified face. They scrambled onto their knees and towards the walls, trying to blend into the shadows. When she turned around, she saw some students holding oddly-shaped sticks of wood, and, with terrified looks on all their faces, waving them aimlessly. Objects caught fire, goblets began floating in mid-air.
This was more than just Halloween. This was magic.
John’s hand was still holding hers. She squeezed it tight, terrified.
A boy with a long, dark cloak, and white-blonde hair ran past them, shouting at no one in particular. He, too, was holding one of the odd sticks, and pointed it towards anyone in his way.
There were several loud bangs, and silence fell onto the hall. The blonde boy, and, with him, every single person present, looked towards a long table at the other end of the hall.
“Prefects,” rumbled an old man with long, grey hair, “lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately!”
Polly and John were standing now, their backs pressed against the cold stone wall. She was terrified. Who were these people? What were they doing here? What was this place?
A group of children reached the large door at the front of the hall. Polly recognised the red-haired boy from earlier, and noticed his rat scampering about in panic. The door opened, and she gasped again.
What had been an old, decayed courtyard when they walked through it was now a completely intact hall, smaller than the one they were in now, but still incredibly large. Polished suits of armour lined the walls, next to various paintings. Polly squinted to get a closer look. Were the pictures moving?
“Polly, what are you doing?” John hissed. Without realizing, Polly had taken a few steps forwards, entranced by the way the room had changed.
She turned back to return to where he was standing, but just then, a new crowd of children walked past them, tearing her along, forcing her to move with them or be trampled on.
They were separated.
She tried to fight her way back, against the flow, back to where John was, but to no avail. The group of children “ who, she noticed, were all wearing matching blue-and-bronze ties “ were walking steadily onwards, crossing hallways, climbing stairs. Polly shrieked and shouted, but her voice was drowned out by the others’ similar noises of distress. She continued to fight her way through the bodies.
At last, she broke free, and soon found herself all alone. “JOHN!” she shouted. She had no idea where she was. This…castle looked nothing like the ruin they had entered earlier that evening.
Tears streaming down her face, she began to run aimlessly, taking lefts and rights, colliding with suits of armour, shrieking whenever she noticed one of the paintings move. She dashed down the stairs and into yet another corridor, sobbing. Her lungs burned, her legs were weak. She tripped and fell to the floor, colliding with yet another suit of armour, causing it, too, to fall onto the stone ground, with a series of loud bangs. The noise scared Polly even more, and she hugged herself, crying.
And then the pieces of armour began to move. They floated towards each other and, as though working to restore their original shape, began to click back into position.
Polly shrieked once more, scrambled back onto her feet, and continued to run. Where was John? Where was the exit? What should she do?
She turned down a narrow corridor. When she had almost reached its end, a horrible stench assaulted her nose. She could hear low, rumbling grunting ahead. Without thinking, she turned and ran back the way she had come, emerging near the now intact suit of armour. Suddenly, she ran into something. Someone.
“Polly! Polly, are you alright?”
It was John. Polly just grabbed his arm and continued running.
“Polly, what are you doing? We have no idea where we’re going!”
She came to a halt. “There was…something…back there,” she panted. “Had to get…away.” She collapsed against the cool stone wall, trying to regain her breath. “What is this place?”
“No idea. Look outside. It’s nothing like the old marsh.”
Noticing a narrow window near where they were standing, she surveyed the landscape. It was, like John had said, completely unlike the dry marsh they had come from. It looked much like the hills near their villages “ lush and green, with a gigantic lake resting by the castle’s feet. It was as though the marsh had been fake, no more than an illusion.
“We have to get out of here,” she said. She had regained her breath and stopped sobbing, but her voice was shaking.
“Yeah, but how? We have no idea where we are!”
Polly was about to turn back towards John when the horrible smell from earlier began to waft down the corridor. She turned around, terrified.
She stood, frozen by fear, as a gigantic, stinking, bulbous something slumped around the corner. It looked vaguely human, but huge, with skin resembling hairy stone. In one arm, it carried a large, wooden club.
“Troll,” John breathed. “That man said something about a troll.”
They stood there, in the middle of the hallway, unable to move.
The troll came closer. There were only ten steps between it and them.
They didn’t move.
Eight steps.
Polly whimpered.
Six steps.
She closed her eyes.
Grunting.
And then…nothing.
She opened her eyes a fraction of a centimetre, expecting to see two gigantic, rock-like feet on the stone floor before her.
But there was nothing there.
She looked up. No gigantic figure loomed over her, no club was threatening to come crashing down on top of her.
“He m-m-must have g-gone down tha-that corridor,” John stuttered, his voice trembling. Polly drew a shaky breath and tried to regain her senses.
And then she heard voices, coming closer, and the sound of feet. They sounded hurried and afraid.
A group of people walked around the corner “ adults, all clothed in robes and talking in soft, hurried voices. They stopped suddenly when they noticed Polly and John standing there.
“Students! What are you two doing here? Why are you not with the rest of your house?” a woman demanded. Her black hair was tied back into a bun, and square glasses framed her strict eyes.
Polly spluttered. “H-house?” she asked. “I dunno…”
She felt afraid again, panicking at the thought of being discovered, found out. Standing there, still frozen in place, she stared at the group of people.
The adults muttered to each other.
“Who are you? How did you come in here?” a kindly woman asked them. Polly just stared back at her.
“Poppy…Poppy, do you think they could be…Muggles?” another woman asked. Expressions of shock and confusion spread across the group’s faces.
A loud banging, grunting noise reached their ears. Then there were screams and shouts, and sudden crashing sounds.
The adults looked up in alarm. Many of them hurried on after a quick consultation with the woman who had just asked them who they were. She stayed behind, looking at them with concern. She was wearing dark robes and an odd hat that reminded Polly of pictures she had seen of medieval princesses.
John tried to talk, tried to explain himself. “What do you mean, houses? I live in Hangleton Road with my mum. Polly and I…we were just looking, I promise! We didn’t mean to intrude. We came across a courtyard and then it all changed and there were Pumpkins and…”
He rambled on, making less sense with every word he spoke. He was just as afraid as she was.
“…and it’s like there’s magic and things were floating and then someone shouted something about a troll and…”
The woman’s expression became increasingly concerned. “Now, now,” she interrupted John’s tirade, “follow me. We’ll get this figured out. Come, now, to the Hospital Wing, both of you.”
She began to usher them along the corridor. Polly followed, her mind numb, her feet going through the motions without conscious effort. They climbed stairs and passed tapestries. Polly’s fear was beginning to fade. In its turn, she was overcome by a wave of fatigue, growing stronger with every step she took. At last, they reached a large, wooden door. The woman opened it, and they entered a room filled with beds, reminding Polly of an old-fashioned hospital ward. She yawned.
The woman “ Poppy, they had called her - gestured to the beds, and John sat down, hugging himself. Polly stood frozen in the doorway. She was even more tired now…all she wanted to do was sleep, and wake up and realize this was a dream. She pinched herself weakly. Nothing.
“Oh, dear. Oh, dear.” The woman was fussing over her now, feeling her forehead. Polly hardly reacted. The woman shook her head sadly, then wrapped an arm around Polly’s shoulders and led her to another bed, sitting down next to her. She held her, rubbing her side, fussing and mumbling. At one point she stood up and came back with a spoon filled with some liquid for her to drink that made steam billow out of her ears. Still Polly sat there, silent and unmoving.
She didn’t know how much time passed before the doors opened once more, and most of the adults they had seen earlier came walking in. They began talking immediately, fretting.
As they talked to the woman holding her she rubbed her eyes, exhausted. It had all been too much. She rested her against the woman’s gentle form.
And the robed arms surrounded her, rubbing her side. Comforting. She said nothing for a while, half-listening to the conversation the people were having. She didn’t understand much of it. Several disjointed words reached her fading consciousness.
“Muggles…broke the charm…inform Ministry…obliviate…”
The words were floating around, making no sense. Then conversation stopped, and people left. Only two remained “ the old, bearded man she had seen at the feast, and the woman holding her.
Polly found her voice. “This is magic, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice no more than a soft whisper breaking the complete silence in the room.
The day’s events passed by her, confusing and overwhelming. She felt nothing at all “ a relaxing calm.
“Yes, honey. This is magic,” the nurse replied.
“I don’t think I like magic very much,” Polly mumbled, burying her face in the thick folds of cloth.
And then something hard touched the side of her head, and an odd-sounding word was whispered.
And all was blank, and all was good.