NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 15: The Room of Requirement
Evelyn didn't stop running until the cold stone walls of the castle were around her once more. She burst through a side entrance, her lungs burning and her arm still tingling with a strange, phantom energy. She leaned against the wall in a dark, deserted corridor, clutching the Whomping Willow branch to her chest like a holy relic.
[Item Acquired: Whomping Willow Branch (Legendary)]
The notification glowed with the triumphant gold of a successful quest, but it was overshadowed by the memory of the other alert, the one that had sent a jolt of genuine fear through her.
[WARNING: Unstable Mana Channel. System Glitch Detected.]
She had never seen a warning like that in the game. Ever. The game was stable, predictable, its code absolute. This... this was new. This was a deviation from the source code. The brief flash of the world dissolving into green, shimmering lines wasn't just a visual bug; it felt like she had peered behind the curtain of reality and seen the raw, unstable programming that held it all together. The "glitch" suggested that her max-level power, forced through a low-level conduit, wasn't just inefficient—it was actively destabilizing her connection to this world. What if a "glitch" meant more than just a graphical error? What if it meant a permanent debuff to her stats, a corruption of her internal inventory, or worse—a total system crash?
A cold dread settled in her stomach. This wasn't just a game with high stakes anymore. The system itself was fragile. And she, with her overwhelming power, was a potential virus.
This new data point changed her priorities. Crafting a new wand wasn't just about upgrading her gear anymore. It was a matter of survival. She needed a stable conduit for her magic before she accidentally corrupted her own "save file" and suffered a fate worse than a simple death.
She couldn't work in the Slytherin common room. The risk of discovery was too high. She needed a private, secure workshop. A personal instance, shielded from all outside interference.
Her mind, a perfect repository of game lore, immediately supplied the answer: The Room of Requirement.
In the game, it was an unlockable secret area, a customizable home base for players who completed a specific side quest. Finding it was the hard part. It didn't appear on any map. It only revealed itself to a user with a specific, genuine need.
Evelyn knew exactly where to go. The seventh floor, opposite a large tapestry of Barnaby the Barmy trying to teach trolls ballet. She made her way there, the precious willow branch hidden carefully within her robes.
She stood before the blank stretch of stone wall, the tapestry of the dancing trolls to her right. The corridor was empty. She closed her eyes, focusing her will, her need, with the intensity of a player trying to trigger a scripted event.
I need a workshop, she thought, her voice a clear, focused command in her mind. I need a safe place to practice forbidden arts. I need a place where I can forge a wand, a place where no one can find me.
She paced back and forth in front of the wall three times, just as the game's lore dictated. When she opened her eyes on the third pass, a small, ornate wooden door had materialized in the previously blank stone. It was dark, polished wood with a simple iron handle.
A slow smile touched her lips. The system worked.
She reached out, turned the handle, and pushed the door open. The room beyond was exactly what she had asked for, and more. It was a spacious, circular chamber that looked like a cross between a master craftsman's workshop and an alchemist's laboratory. A heavy wooden workbench, scarred with the marks of previous, phantom creations, stood in the center of the room. Upon it lay a set of enchanted carving tools that hummed with a faint silver light, their edges impossibly sharp. Along the walls were shelves stocked with empty vials, jars of common potion ingredients like dried billywig stings and powdered bicorn horn, and a small, self-stoking forge that glowed with a low, magical heat, ready for metalwork. The air was still and silent, filled with the potential of creation.
She stepped inside, and the door swung shut behind her, vanishing into the stone wall as if it had never been. She was completely alone, completely safe. This was her sanctuary.
She walked to the workbench and laid her single precious component upon it: the smooth, pale Whomping Willow branch she had just won at great personal risk. It looked unimpressive lying there, a simple stick. But to Evelyn, it was the key. It was the raw material for her ascension, the first step away from the brink of whatever disaster the "system glitch" represented. She knew she still needed other components—the Cerberus whisker she'd failed to get, the Mermaid tears for binding—but this was the foundation.
She took a deep breath, the sterile, calm air of the workshop filling her lungs. The fear and adrenaline from her encounters with the castle's dangers faded away, replaced by the familiar, focused calm of a master craftsman about to begin their work. Here, she wasn't a student or an anomaly. Here, she was in her element.
The grind was over. It was time to craft.