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When posed with the question, who knows the most secrets at Hogwarts, many names may come to mind. You may think of McGonagall, watchful as she is and so quick to discipline, or perhaps Dumbledore, with his piercing gaze and knowing stare. Maybe you think of Mrs. Norris, without whom Filch would be lost—she certainly knows more than most. Perhaps you would suggest the Fat Lady, always gossiping, gathering information from the portraits all around the castle. You may even consider young Zabini, the most noble in the art of secret-keeping.
Alas, if you think any of these, you are wrong. ‘Tis me, a humble rock, hidden away in a passage that is in itself a secret. Cast aside and forgotten, but waiting and listening—always listening. Oh, the things I have heard, the dramas I have seen unfold before my very—well, I don’t really have eyes. But I see all, I hear all, I know all. Conversations so secret—not a living thing can hear, but I can.
I am not living, not sedimentary nor metamorphic—simply an igneous rock, a granite, if you will. I sit here and I listen, unmoved for centuries but ever growing in knowledge. I perch in a hidden passage, waiting for students to wander through—no one goes through a secret passage unless they themselves have a secret and I always find out what it is.
You may think a life as a rock is unrewarding—true, it is often cold and uncomfortable and I do grow lonely, but you know little about the true meaning of rocks. It is far too complex for even you to understand, I’m afraid, but you can try. We are here to listen, to collect information, to be your walls and to be the fly on them. You never know how that secret got out, who first heard the whisper of the new greatest rumour—that is our whisper you hear, though no one is crazy enough to say they heard this from a rock. No, they say they overheard it, but they forget who said it—we never forget. We were here long before you and we will be here long after and we remember every one of your secrets.
Of course, that doesn’t mean I tell them. I’m not a mean rock. I do like to keep some to myself—the tears, the heartache, the blooming romances. Those I let happen without interruption and I let myself view humanity through their own lens. It is biased, of course, but it is beautiful.
Such is the life of a little igneous rock, forgotten by all in its little hidden passage. It is a humble dwelling for a humble rock living a humble life, but it is all I ever needed. My secrets are my comfort, they keep me warm at night. Those whose secrets I protect will never know what I do for them, but I never asked for recognition. I am content in the life I live.
Of course, such joy can never last. I had thought it was another day—the same day I had lived for centuries, waiting for someone to step into my passage and tell me their secrets. And then they did—Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. Oh, the excitement that filled me—these were always the best types of secrets. A budding friendship and lingering stares—I know where this will end. A warmth fills me like the lava that formed me.
How could I have seen it coming? With all my secrets and knowledge, I never could have known this. I never could have prepared myself for Draco Malfoy’s behind landing on me, for the darkness that enveloped and the horrible suffocation of it. Light shone on me, painfully bright, and Draco Malfoy’s offended face stared at me, scrutinising me. I saw him make the decision—I knew in his eyes he had decided his course of action. And he kicked me—vaulted me across the passage, moved me from the spot I had sat in for years. I clattered and crashed across my brothers around me and heard their laughter ringing through the passage. I strained to hear, but I was too far now. My prime position, my eternal resting place had been stolen from me. I couldn’t hear the corridor outside anymore, I was too far. And I knew no one stopped to share secrets in this part of the passage.
Draco Malfoy’s callous actions had forever changed my life, my status, my secrets. He had stolen my life from me. I may only be a rock—but in that moment, I swore to take down Draco Malfoy.
Of course, life moved on around me. I saw Draco Malfoy in glimpses, but I could never enact my revenge. I could have exposed his relationship, of course—I had the power to do that. But Hermione Granger seemed quite nice—like I said, I’m not a mean rock. So, I sat in wait, knowing one day I will have what I need—one day Draco Malfoy will tell me his secrets and I will destroy him.
Or not. I am just a rock.