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Hermione's The Art of Stillness: The Forgotten Hours of Hogwarts · Muggle Snuggle: A Boring Harry Potter Podcast to make you Sleep

• 0:06
  Speaker 1: Come closer now. Settle in.
• 0:09
  Speaker 2: I have been waiting for you. The common room is
• 0:14
  Speaker 2: quiet in a way it never is during the day.
• 0:17
  Speaker 2: During the day, this room is a chorus, laughter spilling
• 0:22
  Speaker 2: over the armchairs, the crackle of the fire competing with
• 0:25
  Speaker 2: someone reading aloud from a textbook, the click of chess
• 0:29
  Speaker 2: pieces being knocked over in frustration. But now at this hour,
• 0:36
  Speaker 2: the room has exhaled. The noise has gone out of
• 0:39
  Speaker 2: it the way water goes out of a bath.
• 0:41
  Speaker 1: When you pull the plug.
• 0:43
  Speaker 2: Slowly, gently, until all that remains is a faint warmth
• 0:48
  Speaker 2: where the sound used to be.
• 0:52
  Speaker 1: I am sitting by the fireplace.
• 0:55
  Speaker 2: The fire has burned down to its last embers, a
• 0:59
  Speaker 2: landscape of glowing coals in shades of amber.
• 1:02
  Speaker 1: And deep rose.
• 1:04
  Speaker 2: Every few moments one of them shifts, settling deeper into
• 1:08
  Speaker 2: the ash, and a brief ton of flame licks upward
• 1:12
  Speaker 2: before dying back. The light from these embers is the
• 1:21
  Speaker 2: color of old honey warm and golden, and it reaches
• 1:25
  Speaker 2: just far enough to paint the edges of the armchairs
• 1:28
  Speaker 2: nearby in soft copper tones.
• 1:31
  Speaker 1: Beyond that circle of.
• 1:32
  Speaker 2: Warmth, The room fades into the blue-black shadows of a
• 1:36
  Speaker 2: castle at rest. The portraits along the walls are sleeping.
• 1:44
  Speaker 2: Sir Cadogan has slumped forward on his pony with his
• 1:47
  Speaker 2: nose almost touching the saddle. The broad woman in the
• 1:51
  Speaker 2: tapestry above the mantelpiece has her hands folded peacefully in
• 1:56
  Speaker 2: her lap, her painted eyes closed. Even the fat lady
• 2:03
  Speaker 2: has drawn her great frame of violet behind her and
• 2:07
  Speaker 2: closed the portrait door with a soft click that I
• 2:10
  Speaker 2: heard 20 minutes ago and have been savoring ever since.
• 2:16
  Speaker 2: The curtains on the windows are drawn. Through the gap
• 2:20
  Speaker 2: where the fabric has not quite met, I can see
• 2:23
  Speaker 2: a sliver of night sky, deep indigo. pricked with a
• 2:28
  Speaker 2: handful of stars that seem closer than they should be,
• 2:32
  Speaker 2: as though the castle itself has drawn them nearer to
• 2:35
  Speaker 2: keep it company. A crescent moon hangs above the eastern towers,
• 2:42
  Speaker 2: thin as a fingernail clipping, casting just enough light to
• 2:46
  Speaker 2: silver the edges of the stone window frame.
• 2:54
  Speaker 1: I want you to.
• 2:55
  Speaker 2: Breathe with me now, not the shallow, hurried breathing of
• 2:59
  Speaker 2: a day spent rushing between classes and worrying about essays.
• 3:05
  Speaker 2: I want you to take a breath so slow and
• 3:08
  Speaker 2: so deep that you can feel it fill every corner
• 3:10
  Speaker 2: of your lungs, from the bottom, rising up.
• 3:14
  Speaker 1: Through the middle, where your ribs spread gently apart, all
• 3:18
  Speaker 1: the way to the top.
• 3:19
  Speaker 2: Where your collarbones lift just slightly, as though they, too,
• 3:24
  Speaker 2: are making room for their air.
• 3:27
  Speaker 1: Hold it there. Feel the fullness of it. And then
• 3:31
  Speaker 1: release it, slowly.
• 3:34
  Speaker 2: Through your nose, letting it go the way you would
• 3:37
  Speaker 2: let go of a butterfly resting on your palm. Gently, gently,
• 3:42
  Speaker 2: with no sudden movement.
• 3:45
  Speaker 1: No rush.
• 3:46
  Speaker 2: Just a slow and careful release. until your lungs are
• 3:50
  Speaker 2: empty and still. This is what I wanted to show
• 3:55
  Speaker 2: you tonight. This is what the castle looks like when
• 3:58
  Speaker 2: no one else is watching. This is the Hogwarts that
• 4:02
  Speaker 2: exists in the forgotten hours, the hours between midnight and dawn,
• 4:07
  Speaker 2: when the world belongs to those who are wise enough
• 4:11
  Speaker 2: to be still. I discovered this place, this version of
• 4:16
  Speaker 2: the castle, not through any spell or secret passage, but
• 4:22
  Speaker 2: through simple, stubborn wakefulness. I have always been someone who
• 4:27
  Speaker 2: finds it difficult to let go of the day. My
• 4:35
  Speaker 2: mind is a library that never closes. A potions classroom
• 4:40
  Speaker 2: where something is always simmering. Even when my body is exhausted,
• 4:47
  Speaker 2: my mind will carry on for hours, polishing ideas the
• 4:51
  Speaker 2: way a house self polishes silver, endlessly, lovingly, with a
• 4:57
  Speaker 2: devotion that is both its greatest gift and its most
• 5:01
  Speaker 2: persistent curse. But one night, it must have been fourth year,
• 5:07
  Speaker 2: I found myself awake at half past midnight, and instead
• 5:12
  Speaker 2: of fighting it, I simply got up. I put on
• 5:16
  Speaker 2: my dressing gown. I crept out of the dormitory, past
• 5:22
  Speaker 2: Lavender and Parvati, who were sleeping with their mouths slightly open,
• 5:27
  Speaker 2: the way people do when they are truly, deeply at rest.
• 5:33
  Speaker 2: I padded down the spiral staircase on bare feet, the
• 5:37
  Speaker 2: stone cool and smooth beneath my soles.
• 5:40
  Speaker 1: And I came here.
• 5:42
  Speaker 2: To the common room, and I sat in this very chair,
• 5:46
  Speaker 2: by this very fire, and I watched the embers die.
• 5:56
  Speaker 2: And something happened.
• 5:58
  Speaker 1: My mind, that.
• 5:59
  Speaker 2: Busy, restless, ever-turning machine, began to slow. The thoughts did
• 6:07
  Speaker 2: not stop.
• 6:08
  Speaker 1: They never do. Not completely.
• 6:11
  Speaker 2: But they began to move the way the embers move, slowly, warmly,
• 6:18
  Speaker 2: settling into the ash of the present moment instead of
• 6:21
  Speaker 2: racing ahead to tomorrow or tumbling back into yesterday. I
• 6:26
  Speaker 2: watched the fire die to its last coal. I listened
• 6:32
  Speaker 2: to the silence of the castle, and I felt, for
• 6:35
  Speaker 2: the first time in a very long time, truly, still.
• 6:42
  Speaker 2: That is what tonight is about. Not the stillness of absence,
• 6:47
  Speaker 2: but the stillness of fullness. The stillness that comes when
• 6:51
  Speaker 2: you have nowhere else to be, nothing else to do,
• 6:55
  Speaker 2: and no one else to be, but exactly who you are.
• 6:59
  Speaker 2: Right here, in this moment, in this breath, the fire
• 7:05
  Speaker 2: pops softly. A spark drops upward. spiraling through the warm
• 7:11
  Speaker 2: air above the grate like a tiny orange star, then
• 7:15
  Speaker 2: vanishing into the chimney. I rise from the chair, slowly,
• 7:25
  Speaker 2: feeling the pleasant stiffness of having sat too long in
• 7:29
  Speaker 2: one position. I pull my dressing gown tighter around my shoulders.
• 7:35
  Speaker 1: It is thick wool.
• 7:37
  Speaker 2: The color of Gryffindor scarlet, though faded to a warm
• 7:40
  Speaker 2: rose by many washings, and I cross the common.
• 7:44
  Speaker 1: Room to the portrait hole.
• 7:47
  Speaker 2: I whisper the password, and the portrait door swings open
• 7:51
  Speaker 2: just wide enough for me to slip through. The corridor
• 7:56
  Speaker 2: beyond is dark. Not the complete darkness of a cupboard,
• 8:02
  Speaker 2: but the particular darkness of a stone corridor at midnight.
• 8:07
  Speaker 2: a darkness that has texture, that has depth, that smells
• 8:11
  Speaker 2: of ancient stone and candle wax and the faint, sweet
• 8:16
  Speaker 2: trace of something floral that might be lavender or might
• 8:19
  Speaker 2: simply be the memory of lavender carried in the walls
• 8:23
  Speaker 2: from some long-ago evening. When someone scattered dried flyers along
• 8:28
  Speaker 2: the floor, I.
• 8:31
  Speaker 1: Walk slowly.
• 8:33
  Speaker 2: The moonlight falls through the tall windows in pale silver
• 8:37
  Speaker 2: rectangles that lie across the floor like stepping stones. I
• 8:47
  Speaker 2: walk from one patch of light to the next, feeling
• 8:50
  Speaker 2: the cool of the stone, the warmth of the moonlight,
• 8:55
  Speaker 2: the difference between them, and finding in that difference a rhythm, cool, warm, cool, warm,
• 9:02
  Speaker 2: That matches the rhythm of my own breathing. I stop
• 9:08
  Speaker 2: at a window and look out. The sky is enormous.
• 9:13
  Speaker 2: Not the daytime sky, which always feels like a ceiling.
• 9:18
  Speaker 2: The night sky is a depth. It goes back and
• 9:24
  Speaker 2: back and back, layer upon layer of darkness, and within
• 9:28
  Speaker 2: that darkness. The stars, not just the ones I can see,
• 9:33
  Speaker 2: but the countless millions that I know are there, hidden
• 9:37
  Speaker 2: behind the curve of the earth, because some things are
• 9:40
  Speaker 2: too vast to be seen and can only be felt,
• 9:44
  Speaker 2: the way you feel the weight of the ocean even
• 9:47
  Speaker 2: when you are standing on the shore, miles from the water.
• 9:52
  Speaker 2: A night breeze comes through an open window. It is cool,
• 9:57
  Speaker 2: carrying the scent of grass and snow.
• 10:01
  Speaker 1: And the faint.
• 10:01
  Speaker 2: Sweetness of night-blooming flowers from the greenhouses far below. It
• 10:08
  Speaker 2: touches my face and my hands and the exposed skin
• 10:12
  Speaker 2: of my neck, and it carries with it a sound,
• 10:15
  Speaker 2: very faint. almost subliminal, that I think is the sound
• 10:20
  Speaker 2: of the lake, the water lapping against the shore in
• 10:23
  Speaker 2: a rhythm so slow and so steady that it has
• 10:27
  Speaker 2: been going on since the castle was young and will
• 10:30
  Speaker 2: continue long after the last student has walked through the
• 10:34
  Speaker 2: great doors and gone home for the final time. I
• 10:42
  Speaker 2: lean against the windowsill. The stone is cool beneath my elbows.
• 10:48
  Speaker 2: I close my eyes for a moment and feel the
• 10:50
  Speaker 2: night around me, not as darkness, but as presence. The
• 10:56
  Speaker 2: castle is present. The grounds are present. The sky is present.
• 11:04
  Speaker 2: Everything is here. Everything is now. And there is nowhere
• 11:09
  Speaker 2: else in the world that I would rather be than right. Here,
• 11:14
  Speaker 2: in this corridor, in this moonlight, in this breath. I
• 11:21
  Speaker 2: continue walking and the character of the castle changes. The
• 11:25
  Speaker 2: stone becomes older, rougher, less polished. The torches become fewer,
• 11:32
  Speaker 2: their flames smaller. The air becomes warmer, as though I
• 11:37
  Speaker 2: am walking toward something, a heart, a furnace. the deep,
• 11:42
  Speaker 2: slow burning center of the castle itself.
• 11:47
  Speaker 1: I am heading for the clock tower.
• 11:49
  Speaker 2: It is my favorite place in the castle at night,
• 11:52
  Speaker 2: and I want to share it with you. The door
• 11:56
  Speaker 2: is heavy oak, banded with iron, and it swings open
• 12:01
  Speaker 2: without a sound when I push it.
• 12:03
  Speaker 1: This surprises me every time.
• 12:06
  Speaker 2: You would expect a door this old, this massive, to
• 12:09
  Speaker 2: groan and creak, but no. This door opens the way
• 12:19
  Speaker 2: a secret opens, quietly, willingly, as though it has been
• 12:24
  Speaker 2: waiting for someone to come along and give it a
• 12:27
  Speaker 2: reason to reveal what lies beyond. The room inside is vast,
• 12:34
  Speaker 2: it is circular, following the shape of the tower, and
• 12:37
  Speaker 2: it rises upward into darkness. The walls are bare stone,
• 12:43
  Speaker 2: unadorned except for the great mechanism that occupies the center
• 12:47
  Speaker 2: of the room, the clockworks. The mechanism is enormous. a
• 12:54
  Speaker 2: forest of gears and shafts and pendulums and chains that
• 12:58
  Speaker 2: fills the space from floor to ceiling, turning with a slow,
• 13:03
  Speaker 2: hypnotic grace that makes the whole room feel alive. I
• 13:09
  Speaker 2: stand in the center and look up. The largest gear,
• 13:13
  Speaker 2: the great wheel that drives the clock face, is directly overhead,
• 13:18
  Speaker 2: and it turns so slowly that I cannot see it move.
• 13:22
  Speaker 1: But it is moving. I know this because I can
• 13:27
  Speaker 1: hear it.
• 13:28
  Speaker 2: A deep, resonant hum that vibrates through the floor and
• 13:33
  Speaker 2: up through the soles of my feet and into my chest,
• 13:36
  Speaker 2: where it settles alongside the rhythm of my own heartbeat
• 13:40
  Speaker 2: and becomes indistinguishable from it. The pendulum hangs to my left.
• 13:50
  Speaker 2: a great brass bob on a chain that stretches up
• 13:54
  Speaker 2: into the darkness of the tower. It swings back and
• 13:59
  Speaker 2: forth with a rhythm so steady, so unhurried, that watching
• 14:04
  Speaker 2: it is like watching the tide come in. There is
• 14:08
  Speaker 2: no beginning and no end. Only the eternal, patient alternation
• 14:14
  Speaker 2: of one direction and then the other.
• 14:17
  Speaker 1: Left, right, left, right.
• 14:22
  Speaker 2: Each swin takes exactly the same amount of time as
• 14:25
  Speaker 2: the last. And this regularity is not monotonous, but deeply,
• 14:32
  Speaker 2: profoundly comforting. Because it tells me something that my busy
• 14:36
  Speaker 2: mind often forgets, time does not rush. Time has never rushed.
• 14:45
  Speaker 2: I find a stone bench near the wall and sit down.
• 14:49
  Speaker 2: The mechanism turns above me. The pendulum swings. The gears
• 14:54
  Speaker 2: mesh and part, mesh and part, with a sound like
• 14:59
  Speaker 2: gentle breathing. An inhale, an exhale, an inhale, an exhale.
• 15:06
  Speaker 2: And I realize that this is what the castle sounds
• 15:08
  Speaker 2: like when it is at rest.
• 15:12
  Speaker 1: This is its heartbeat.
• 15:14
  Speaker 2: This is the slow, steady pulse that keeps it alive.
• 15:19
  Speaker 2: Through the centuries, I close my eyes and listen. The
• 15:31
  Speaker 2: hum of the gears becomes a kind of music, not
• 15:35
  Speaker 2: the bright, busy music of the day, but a deeper music,
• 15:40
  Speaker 2: the kind that exists below the threshold of hearing, felt
• 15:44
  Speaker 2: rather than heard, the way you feel the warmth of
• 15:47
  Speaker 2: the sun through your eyelids, even when your eyes are closed.
• 15:54
  Speaker 2: It is a music of patience. of persistence, of things
• 15:58
  Speaker 2: that endure.
• 16:01
  Speaker 1: And what is stillness, really?
• 16:04
  Speaker 2: Stillness is not the accents of movement. Stillness is the
• 16:09
  Speaker 2: presence of attention. When you are still, you are not
• 16:13
  Speaker 2: doing nothing. You are doing the most important thing you
• 16:17
  Speaker 2: can do. You are paying attention. You are paying attention
• 16:23
  Speaker 2: to this moment, to this breath, to the feeling of
• 16:27
  Speaker 2: the bench beneath you and the sound of the gears
• 16:30
  Speaker 2: above you and the taste of the air in this ancient,
• 16:34
  Speaker 2: sacred space. I think, think we feel some. I sit
• 16:46
  Speaker 2: in the clock tower for a long time. The pendulum swings.
• 16:52
  Speaker 2: The gears turn. The great wheel overhead completes its slow revolution.
• 16:58
  Speaker 1: And then another. And then another.
• 17:01
  Speaker 2: And each one feels like a gift, a small brass-colored
• 17:06
  Speaker 2: gift of time offered frailly, asking nothing in return. When
• 17:13
  Speaker 2: I finally open my eyes, the room looks different. Not
• 17:17
  Speaker 2: because anything has changed, the mechanism is still turning. The
• 17:22
  Speaker 2: pendulum is still swinging, but because I have changed. My
• 17:27
  Speaker 2: eyes are siphon eyes now. They are slower, softer, more
• 17:34
  Speaker 2: willing to see what is actually there instead of what
• 17:37
  Speaker 2: I expected to find. My breathing is different too, deeper,
• 17:43
  Speaker 2: more rhythmic, matching the pace of the pendulum as though
• 17:46
  Speaker 2: my body has, decided, without consulting my mind, that this
• 17:51
  Speaker 2: is the right speed, this is the right rhythm, this
• 17:55
  Speaker 2: is the way a person should breathe when they are
• 17:58
  Speaker 2: exactly where they are meant to be.
• 18:02
  Speaker 1: I stand up. My legs are steady, my body warm.
• 18:07
  Speaker 1: The cool stone of.
• 18:08
  Speaker 2: The tower presses against my bare feet, grounding me, reminding
• 18:13
  Speaker 2: me that I am here, that I am real, that
• 18:17
  Speaker 2: this moment is happening and will never happen again, and
• 18:21
  Speaker 2: is therefore precious beyond measure. I take one last look
• 18:30
  Speaker 2: at the mechanism. The pendulum swings, the gears turn, and
• 18:36
  Speaker 2: I whisper, so softly that only the clock tower can
• 18:41
  Speaker 2: hear me.
• 18:42
  Speaker 1: Thank you.
• 18:45
  Speaker 2: Then I open the heavy oak door and step back
• 18:48
  Speaker 2: into the corridor, into the moonlight, into the night.
• 18:52
  Speaker 1: There is more to see.
• 18:54
  Speaker 2: The castle has not finished showing me its secrets. But
• 18:58
  Speaker 2: for now, in this moment, I am content.
• 19:02
  Speaker 1: I am still. I am here.