Harry left for the common room after his bath the next morning, feeling a mixture of intensity and dread. The revelation that came from viewing the memory had lifted a veil from his eyes which he did not know was there to begin with. Everything seemed so much clearer now. To kill Voldemort, he would first need to destroy the Horcruxes the Dark Lord had created. And out of the six the evil wizard had (knowingly) created, two had been destroyed, two were in Harry's possession (through sheer dumb luck) and one was within walking distance from Harry's current location. All Harry would have to do was go to the Room of Requirement, find and take Ravenclaw's Diadem, and then destroy it and the remaining Horcruxes. That would make Voldemort vulnerable.
Of course, killing Voldemort would be a problem itself ... however, at the same time Harry had been putting in a lot of hard work into training his magic. When he wasn't practising with Neville, he was up against the best The Room could throw at him which included duelling tactics the castle had observed over the thousand years of its existence.
How a piece of man-made architecture managed to observe and reciprocate duelling strategies was explained after Harry read through Slytherin's journals. After meeting Godric, Salazar set about teaching the younger man the finer aspects of magic, keeping certain secrets behind for himself and his heirs. Over the course of the next few years, they eventually met Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff. Ravenclaw was described to be an intelligent and gifted woman, though she did have her head buried in her books and theories way too many times and tended to go off on tangents. Helga Hufflepuff was described to be a man's woman. Born to Viking parents who had settled in Wales, the tall six foot four inch blonde witch displayed many traits of the Norse. Towering a good four inches over Slytherin, she had biceps that rivalled Godric's bulky muscles (something Salazar's apprentice found more than intimidating). However, she was surprisingly gentle and kind with a knack for making good food with magic, a skill few possessed. She was also, much to Salazar's annoyance, fiercely loyal to her friend, Rowena Ravenclaw.
Salazar's three companions had then visited his new castle up in the Kingdom of Alba (Harry suddenly noticed that names had started appearing in the later volumes, something he made a note to go back later and check to see where it had started). Rowena had taken one look at the massive castle being constructed and put forth the idea of having a school of magic to teach each and every wizarding child in the British Isles. The Wizards still remembered the heyday of Uther and Arthur's reign which had united Britain for two glorious centuries. Something the Muggles had long since forgotten. So while they acknowledged the different Muggle kingdoms of the time, they still thought of it as Britain, the kingdom of Arthur.
Having experienced the benefits of a university of magic, Salazar agreed, and so the four got about changing some aspects of the castle to better resemble a school. They had decided to name it Hogwarts.
The entrapped and enslaved souls that formed the frontline defence in the form of large statues made of metal and stone, combined with the heavy amount of enchantments and magic concentrated within the castle, had made the structure come alive as the sentience of the souls bled into the building. Recognising it for what it was, Salazar brought the castle to heel, making it subservient to the four founders and anybody they appointed and halting the development of any true intelligence. He had also, unknown to the others, given him and his bloodline precedence over the rest. After all, it was his property and his castle.
Thanks to this feature, Harry was able to train against many different opponents in different surroundings. While it was sad that the souls encased within the castle would never be released, at the same time, it still served his purposes.
Reaching the bottom of the staircase, Harry paced in front of the fireplace, waiting for Neville. The knowledge that a Horcrux was so close was making him jittery. He already had to control himself from rushing off the last night to get the diadem. Taking deep breaths, Harry calmed himself. Now was not the time to rush into things. The diadem had been in Hogwarts for quite a few years, a few more hours won't hurt. He couldn't think about the fact that he had two of the most powerful wizards after his head. Thinking about that would only strengthen the dread he was feeling.
'Hey, Harry,' Neville said as he entered the common room. Giving his friend a 'hey,' in return, Harry set off towards the Great Hall with the blonde.
'You alright?' the other boy asked wryly. 'I haven't seen you run so fast today, or be this intense. What gives?'
'Just seem to be in the zone, I guess.' Harry replied as he tried to make his voice sound normal. 'I think today is going to be a good day!'
'If you say so,' said Neville uncertainly thinking about the weather which was very typical of a day in early January: cold and snowy. A look outside the window confirmed his suspicions that nothing changed in the last few minutes.
They were half-way through their breakfast when shouting could be heard just outside the hall causing the students just inside the doors to look up. They didn't have to wait long to find out what had happened when two girls crashed into the hall squabbling over a small object and shrieking.
'What is the meaning of this?' Professor McGonagall demanded as she got up from her seat at the staff table and strode towards the two bitterly fighting girls with Professor Snape at her heels as the students watched the unfolding drama.
The girls, however, did not react to professor McGonagall's stern voice. 'Give that back!' said the dark-haired one as she yanked on the object.
'No, you crazy-' the person she was fighting, a brown-haired girl replied. She was cut off when the dark-haired girl violently shoved a fist into her mouth.
'Ha!' the dark-haired girl said victoriously holding up the object for the world to see as she gazed into it rapturously.
'Are they fighting over a mirror?' Harry asked the table in general.
'Looks like it,' said Susan.
'Oh ... Just making sure,'
The second girl recovered by this time and even though she had blood oozing out of a split lip screeched, 'Oh, no you don't!' and tackled the black-haired girl down screaming, 'Give me back my mirror, you crazy-'
'That is enough!' Professors Snape and McGonagall shouted simultaneously coming out of their momentary stupor. Furiously, McGonagall whipped out her wand and shot a disarming charm at the girls, causing the mirror to sail into her waiting hand.
If the Transfiguration teacher thought that this was enough to end the fight and get the girls to calm down, she was sorely mistaken as the dark haired girl immediately pushed the other girl down, and, forgetting her opponent, sprinted towards her new target, who just happened to be a very surprised Professor McGonagall.
'Stupefy,' said Snape lazily.
The spell hit the girl in the face before she could come within lunging distance, causing her to fall to the floor, stunned.
'What?' Snape asked laconically as he looked at the deputy headmistress's disapproving expression. 'Miss Vane is clearly not in control of her senses. Otherwise she would not have attempted to attack you in such a fashion.'
Sniffing, professor McGonagall nodded curtly, refraining from reprimanding her younger colleague in front of the pupils. Besides, she did sort of agree with the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. The child was clearly not in her senses.
'Very well, professor. Now, Miss Underhill, care to explain what this is about?'
The brown-haired girl, sporting numerous scratches and bruises and a bleeding lip quailed slightly at the stern look sent her way. 'I don't know, professor. Romilda just came up to me and snatched my mirror. When I asked for it back, she just ignored me. So I moved to take it back. That was when she attacked me. The rest you have seen now a moment ago.'
Professor McGonagall gave a quiet sigh as she said, 'Very well, Miss Underhill. Please see yourself to the hospital wing. Severus, please take Miss Vane to the hospital wing. I shall alert the headmaster. Any further action shall be discussed then.' She gave Snape a pointed look as she said the last bit.
If Snape felt irritated by this, he did not show it, settling to nod curtly as he levitated the unconscious girl. Sneering at the girl's body as it rose in the air, he stalked off towards the Hospital Wing with the girls following him.
'Vane ... I have heard of that family,' said Daphne next to Harry as the noise level in the hall suddenly picked up as everybody discussed what had happened. Her presence at the Ravenclaw table wasn't commented on much since those around her were either privy to her betrothal, had seen her go out with Harry quite a few times, or were too intimidated to ask why she was sitting next to the Boy Who Lived.
'I think her mother works at the Ministry,' said Blaise. 'Some department or the other,' he sniffed before going back to lavishing attention to Morag MacDougal.
'She was that fourth year girl we met on the train at the beginning of the year, right, Harry? I wonder what's wrong with her...' said Neville. 'Harry?'
He turned to look at the boy just in time to catch Harry smooth out the smug grin on his face. 'I have no idea,' Harry said innocently.
Susan had also noticed the fleeting expression on Harry's face, 'Alright, spill Potter! We know you know something!'
'Well,' said Harry dragging the word out 'I think I may know what is wrong with little Romilda Vane.'
'And?' said Daphne drawing out the word the same way as Harry did.
'Ah, you see, before the holidays, Vane gifted me with a box of Cauldron Cakes. She claimed that they were filled with firewhiskey. Now, I did not know the girl beforehand, you see. I thought that she was a bit too ...' he trailed off delicately.
'Stroppy?' Neville volunteered.
'Well, I wouldn't call it that, but yeah. Anyway, I didn't know her, so her name really hadn't featured on my gift list. So it was kind of awkward that she had given me something when I hadn't. So in order to be nice, I decided to give something back. Unfortunately, she sort of slipped my mind and at the last minute I realised that I had nothing to give her. So I re-wrapped the present she gave me, and sent it back to her. After all, there wasn't anything on the box that would tip her off, and I really didn't know her that well.' he shrugged.
'Other than the fact that you seem to be pretty cheap, Potter, I fail to understand how this is in any way related to Vane acting like a half crazed-loon today.' Ernie said drily.
'Well, my decision to re-wrap her gift and give it back to her may or may not have been influenced by rumours I may or may not have overheard that Romilda Vane was intent on feeding me love potion.' Harry said succinctly.
Ernie, Justin, Terry and Neville all looked at Harry blankly for a moment before they all burst out laughing. 'So ... so she basically ended up eating her own love potion? Oh, this is priceless!' Justin howled between guffaws of laughter.
'Yup, now you know why she was fighting for the mirror,' said Harry with a perfectly innocent look on his face as his eyes danced in mirth. 'She was in love with herself! I guess she really is vain!' he smiled at his double entendre
Susan, who initially had a disapproving look on her face smiled and said, 'Well, at first I was going to say that it is highly rude to return someone's gift back to them even if it is re-wrapped, but then again, it is even ruder to drug the recipient of your gift. So I say that she got what was coming to her.'
Daphne was staring at the doors of the Great Hall with an intense look on her face. 'So she tried to drug my fiancé? I am so going to make her pay...'
'Now, now, luv, let it be,' Harry said good naturedly as he slung an arm around her and gave her a small squeeze. 'She got her just desserts.'
Daphne smiled beatifically at her fiancé. 'OK, Harry, if you say so.'
Harry gave her a mild look of suspicion. 'You promise?'
'I promise! I won't harm a hair on her head...' Daphne replied with a grin on her face.
'Great,' Appeased with that, Harry pecked her on the lips. Getting up, he said, 'I've got to get to Potions, so later, guys.'
'Hang on, I'm coming with you,' said Ernie as he scrambled out of his seat. Looking at their watches, the Ravenclaws gasped as they also scrambled out of their seats.
Unnoticed by everybody, Daphne's smile grew predatory as she watched her fiancé and friends go off to class. While she had promised that she wouldn't do a thing to Vane, it didn't mean that she could do something to somebody else...
'Not so fast, Longbottom.' The boy in question squawked as he was yanked by the back of his collar into a secluded corner.
'Something I can help you with, Daphne?' said Neville as he rubbed his throat and straightened his clothes.
'Yes, I would like the password to Gryffindor Tower, please.' Daphne said expectantly.
'Why?' said Neville suspiciously, 'I thought you promised Harry that you wouldn't do anything to Romilda?'
'Oh, don't worry about that, Neville,' Daphne said patting the taller boy on his head. 'I won't do anything to her' not directly she thought with a mental cackle. Sighing at the stubborn look on his face, she said, 'Either you tell me the password and keep that mouth of yours shut, or I find a first- or second-year Gryffindor and scare them witless so they tell me. Either way, I'm getting that password, Longbottom. It can be the easy way or the hard way, you decide.'
Gulping at the cold stare he was getting, Neville said, 'Abstinence.'
'Good boy,' said Daphne. She turned around to leave.
'I'm telling Harry,' warned Neville.
Daphne only turned around and said with a smile, 'Then I'll let slip what you did ten years ago.'
'You promised you wouldn't!' Neville gasped.
'And you promised that you won't tell Harry...'
'Fine,' Neville ground out as he got the gist.
Grinning maniacally, Daphne hurried away.
Even though she did not attend the N.E.W.T. Potions class, Daphne still knew that while she could get love potion of her own, the flaw with that plan was that to activate it, the witch (or in some cases wizard) must say their name and put a strand of their hair in the potion willingly. It would then target any person drinking it. Making them feel infatuated with the witch or wizard.
But now that Daphne had the password, it would be easy to get to Romilda Vane's dorm room. Daphne had already figured out where the other entrances were a few years ago, so she made a beeline toward the Fat Lady. Uttering the password, she stepped through. Acting as if she owned the place, she purposefully headed up the girls' staircase.
Entering the fourth-year dorm, she didn't have to look far. Sitting there innocently on a bed was a box of cauldron cakes. Smirking devilishly, Daphne took the box and secreted it in her bag. Exiting the dorm, she confidently strode back out of the tower, careful to avoid eye contact with the seventh years there that were anyway busy studying. Nobody paid her any mind.
'… and so,' finished Slughorn, 'I want each of you to come and take one of these phials from my desk. You are to create an antidote for the poison within it before the end of the lesson. Good luck, and don't forget your protective gloves!'
Harry serenely watched Hermione and the others bolt off towards the storage cupboard. He had studied beforehand about Golpalott's third law, and agreed with the notation that he saw in the Prince's book.
Slughorn asked them to find an antidote to the blended poisons. To do so, one not only needed to find the antidote to the separate components of the poison, but also find that one ingredient that would combine all the antidotes of the separate components into one whole antidote for the blended poison.
So feeling particularly cheeky, Harry took his phial of lurid pink potion and divided it into two parts. Going to the storage cupboard, he found the cardboard box of bezoars, something that he noticed nobody in the class had thought to take. While a bezoar wouldn't work on all poisons, it worked on nearly all blended poisons. Those blended poisons that it was ineffectual against required some very rare ingredients, something he doubted that Slughorn would want to waste on a sixth year class. So taking two bezoars, he hurried back to his spot on the table and, applying a silencing charm on his mortar, started grinding one of the brittle stones into a fine powder. He theorised that the powdered form of the bezoar would be more effective on the potion than the whole stone, which would work only in the gullet of the poisoned individual.
Finished, he looked up from his work to see that the classroom was now barely visible thanks in part to Ron who now had putrid fumes issuing from his cauldron. Looking at the clock, he noticed that half of their time was up. While the stone was brittle, it still was a bitch to grind, magically enforced pestle nor not. He massaged his arm. It was pretty sore from all the grinding he had done.
Hermione was sitting opposite him, enthusiastically decanting the poisons and adding in ingredients to the phials with almost carefree abandon. Looking up, her face adopted a distinctly smug look when she saw that Harry hadn't done anything to his cauldron other than pour out the contents of his phial.
'What's the matter, Harry, having problems? Too bad the Prince won't be able to help you here. You have to understand the principles here properly. No shortcuts or cheats!' she said in a sing-song voice.
Hiding his annoyance at her irritating tone, Harry just grinned back at her sweetly. Seeing this, Hermione's grin faltered for a moment before she fixed it back in place and resumed her work. Watching her idly, Harry couldn't help but think of her as a parody of a witch as far as Muggles were concerned, what with the way she was throwing in various ingredients. All she needed was a wart and an ugly nose. He watched in horrified fascination as she actually raised a hand to her head and cut off a chunk of her own hair with her silver knife. 'I am so not drinking that antidote,' he said under his breath, feeling a little sick at the sight as the potion in the phial turned a muddy brown and gave a little 'gloop' upon the addition.
Noticing that Slughorn started to make his rounds, and deciding that he had dawdled enough, he took the contents of his mortar and tipped the ground up bezoar into the half that was in his cauldron. He was rewarded with the potion immediately changing colour to become transparent with a hint of blue. Something he knew from his Potions book was a sign that the poison was neutralised. Smiling devilishly, Harry transferred the contents into a phial with his wand.
Of course, he knew that if this question was asked in the Potions N.E.W.T. practical exam, he'd be screwed, but from looking at past papers, Harry was certain that would not happen. Making antidotes using the law was quite advanced and took too much time. It was taught more in depth to those taking their masteries in Potions.
'By Jove, he's done it!' Slughorn exclaimed in delighted incredulity the minute he looked at Harry's phial. Immediately everybody stopped what they were doing as they looked incredulously at the phial in Slughorn's hand.
'And that too, before the allotted time is up! Fifteen points to Gryffindor! How on earth did you manage such a feat, my boy? No, no, don't tell me yet,' said Slughorn with a sly smirk on his face before Harry could open his mouth. 'We'll wait till the end of the class.' Giving Harry a knowing look and a wink, he moved on.
Hermione shot a deadly look at the smugly smiling Harry before bending over her work with renewed determination as if wanting to prove Harry wrong.
'How did you do it?' Ron asked in quiet shock as his cauldron started belching out more smoke. Suddenly, something caught his eye. Looking around, he saw Slughorn looking at him with a stern expression that was completely foreign on his otherwise jovial face. Startled by this, the ginger gave a little 'Eep,' and got back to work.
Cleaning up his workstation and packing his bag, Harry sat there reading his Potions text, making sure that Hermione saw the cover. Seeing that Slughorn was free he raised his hand.
'Yes, Harry?' Slughorn said as he got up and came toward his star pupil.
'Well sir, I had studied the principle of Scarpin's Revealaspell and how it can be used to detect poisons, and I have a question. Say hypothetically, if I were to find myself in a room with the entrance and exit blocked by magical fire and there are seven potion bottles on a table in the middle, two of which are filled with wine, three with poison and two others with the potion that will let me go through the fires and a riddle to tell me which is which. Could I use the spell to detect the poison or would I have to solve the riddle?'
Hermione instantly froze as she waited for Slughorn's answer, entirely forgetting what she was doing.
'Well,' said Slughorn slightly bemused. 'If that were the case, you could use the spell. However, I would use a more advanced poison detecting spell since it is more accurate and reliable in this case at least. I really don't understand the point of this trap of yours, though. It is laughably easy to get out of.'
'But sir, won't it be easier to use the logical puzzle then? The spell will only reveal which bottles hold wine. It won't show which one is poison.' Hermione piped up.
'You could, but why do that when you can just conjure a bird or transfigure an animal and make it drink some of the contents in the bottles?' Harry shot back.
'My point exactly!' said Slughorn enthusiastically. 'As Harry pointed out, Miss Granger, with magic, this puzzle is easily solved. As I said, the trap is laughably easy to get out of. Any competent sixth year student could get out of it.'
Hermione opened her mouth to argue further when Slughorn looked at the clock and said softly, 'Oh dear,' before raising his voice and saying, 'Time's up!'
Nobody had completed the task. Hermione was frantically stuffing the last few ingredients into a phial, shooting Harry death glares now and again, as Slughorn made his rounds.
'A good effort from everybody,' said Slughorn after he finished examining the last cauldron. 'Now there really is no need to worry about it cropping up in your Potions N.E.W.T. practical exam as this is something taught in more depth to those wishing to take Potions further after school, so you don't have to worry about performing it then!' He chortled at Ron's muttered 'Whew'. 'But I am sure that if it does, you lot will do fine. After all, we do have some brilliant minds here with us,' he beamed at Hermione who replied with a pale grin of her own, her face sweaty and her hair far more bushy than normal with a chunk noticeably shorter.
'But then we have Harry, a true prodigy! Through intuition and a knack for the subject he clearly inherited from his mother, he was the only one to finish the task in record time!' Looking at Harry proudly, he continued, 'So Harry, care to share your method?'
In response, Harry just reached down, and removed the second bezoar which he placed on the desk with a flourish.
'Oho, just as I suspected!' said Slughorn gleefully as he took the stone from Harry. Waving the stone above his head for the class to see, Slughorn explained the properties of the bezoar.
'But on the other hand, the bezoar does not protect against all poisons, so it is worth learning how to mix antidotes using Golpalott's third law.'
Hermione and Malfoy, who had what looked like cat sick over the front of his robes, both gave Harry death glares. 'I bet you thought of this brilliant method all on your own, did you, Harry?' Hermione asked through gritted teeth.
'Yes, I did, Hermione,' said Harry with a big grin on his face.
'Haven't been using any ... shortcuts?' she asked in a fake innocent voice.
'Whatever do you mean, Miss Granger?' Slughorn asked in confusion. 'Surely you aren't implying that Harry here is cheating?'
'Why don't we find out for sure, professor?' said Hermione with a fake smile on her face. 'After all, it would be easy to just make sure that Harry isn't using alternative instructions, for example.' She shot Harry a nasty look.
Harry gave her a look of cool indifference as he slowly reached for his potions book and opened it to a random page, placed it on the desk, turned it around and pushed it toward Slughorn.
'My boy,' said Slughorn as he flipped through the pages in wonderment. 'I cannot believe it.'
'Hah!' said Hermione victoriously jabbing her finger at the open text. 'See professor, he has been using another person's notes all along!'
'My dear girl whatever do you mean? This is clearly Mr Potter's handwriting,' Slughorn said giving her a peculiar look.
Hermione's change of expression from triumphant and slightly mad, to confused, was comical. 'W-What?' she said as she looked at the book again. 'It cannot be...' She was silent for a moment before regaining her haughty voice, 'He obviously copied it then!'
'Well, if I did, then I doubt that I would be able to tell you for example that according to Arsenius Jigger in Poisons and Antidotes, the bezoar works against all blended poisons, the exception being the Waking Nightmare and Laughing Death both of which require very rare ingredients. At the same time, however, as the professor said, the bezoar's rarity also does make the application of Golpalott's third law necessary.' Harry replied coolly. 'Now, if I had copied these notes, as you claim, then I would not have known that fact because then I wouldn't have done any research whatsoever! The fact that I have clearly done my research shows beyond any doubt that I have made these notations myself after putting in quite a lot of effort throughout the school year cross-referencing my ideas.'
Hermione did not talk to Harry for the rest of the day. Not that Harry knew that since he was happily doing the same to her.
However, she did not hold her silence for long because after spending the day giving him death glares, she eventually confronted Harry in an empty classroom before dinner.
'You copied all those notes from that beat up old Potions book didn't you?' she said accusingly as she folded her arms. 'Don't deny that Harry. I know you did! You normally aren't so good. And what was all that about asking those stupid questions about first year-?'
'Excuse me?' said Harry as he gave her a haughty look, cutting her off. 'I will have you know that I researched each and every annotation made by the Prince and corroborated every fact before copying them down! And before you go off on your high hippogriff, what I did is hard work and this sort of research is something that any good student would do. Rote memorisation isn't everything.' His eyes glowing, he gave her a deadly look before continuing, his voice in a hiss, 'And for your information, I have my reasons for buttering Slughorn up. Professor Dumbledore gave me the task of getting as close to Slughorn as possible. We need a memory from the man. So I will thank you not to go about trying to sabotage my attempts at this task!'
'So all this was to get at Slughorn?' Hermione said suspiciously.
'No, it was also an effort to better myself, and get better grades. Of course, you cannot see that, because all that matters to you is marks and being the best. You can't stand to see someone be better than you at anything, can you?' For the past year she had been at it again and again, every time homework was assigned to them and would shoot dirty looks at him every time he got better marks than her. He was finally fed up with this. Either she got her head out of her arse, or there really wasn't much to be said between them. While it was true that he had copied those instructions from the old Potions text book, he still did put in an honest effort into all his other classes.
Seeing the flash of guilt on her face, Harry said softly, 'I thought so.' He then turned around and left the room, absently removing the wards he had put up.
Once outside, he ducked out of sight. Taking out his cloak, he put it on and using the map, made his way towards the Room of Requirement.
He was sorely tempted to get the diadem there and then in the morning when the three of them were practising. However, he realised that this was too important. Nobody must know about this. Perhaps Harry was being overly paranoid, but he didn't even want his friends to even glimpse a Horcrux. And pocketing a strange piece of silver headwear that appeared in the middle of the room and that might or might not be recognised as a lost relic of one of the founders of the school at first glance would certainly draw a lot of stares if not questions. While Harry was certain that they wouldn't badger him about it, them looking at it was, in his opinion, a big risk. Especially given that Susan was the niece of the Minister of Magic.
Finding the hallway deserted, and checking with the Map just to make sure, Harry took off his cloak and closing his eyes, started pacing.
I need to see where Voldemort went ... I need to see where Voldemort went ... I need to see where Voldemort went.
Stopping the third time around, he opened his eyes expectantly, excitement coursing through him – Only to be disappointed at the blank stretch of wall in front of him.
Harry stood there pondering. Clearly the first instruction wasn't enough. He doubted any other variation would work.
Thinking of the fragment of memory that he had obtained from Voldemort's soul, he started pacing again.
I need to see the room of hidden things ... I need to see the room of hidden things ... I need to see the room of hidden things...
Opening his eyes, he felt a victorious grin creep across his face as he saw that the wall now contained a door. Heart hammering, he pushed it open. Now all he would have to do is get that diadem...
'Son of a –' he muttered a slew of curses under his breath as he took in his surroundings. 'Not only is the bloody room so big it probably has two different time zones. But noooo, it just has to be full of so much stuff.' He gave it another sweeping glare. Sighing, he started to plan.
Getting sudden inspiration, he flicked his wand out and holding it up intoned, 'Accio diadem!' while thinking about the object.
After a moment of nothing happening, he let his arm drop down in disappointment. 'Stupid Horcrux, with its stupid anti-summoning charms,' he grumbled as he glared at the veritable city of junk.
It looked like he would have to manually search for the damn thing. And judging by the size of the room, it could very well take days. Months even, thought Harry as he looked at the place. It would be easy to get lost. The place was like a maze.
A maze...
Hit with another epiphany and wondering why he hadn't thought of it before, Harry took his wand, placed it on the flat of his palm and said, 'Point me Horcrux.'
When the wand did nothing, Harry swore again. Wracking his brains, he tried again, 'Point me Ravenclaw's diadem.' Nothing. 'Point me diadem!'
This time, the wand spun around in a circle before coming to a rest to Harry's left.
'Ha! You can run, but you can't hide!' saying this to himself, Harry took off, cackling.
Half an hour later, Harry found his enthusiasm waning.
So far he had found three diadems in various states of disrepair, and none of them were anywhere close to looking like what he remembered the Ravenclaw's Diadem to look like. While the spell would point him in the direction of a diadem and had considerably made it easier to locate a diadem, finding said diadem amidst all that junk was a different matter altogether.
Sighing, he decided to call it quits for the day. It was getting late, and he couldn't afford people getting too suspicious about his disappearances. He also had a meeting to get to.
And so, a new task was added to Harry's ever growing list of tasks. In addition to rooting through what seemed to be the largest attic he had ever seen in his life, he had to train for his inevitable confrontation with Voldemort. Then he had to get the real memory from Slughorn. While Harry could just extract that memory from his own head and pass it off as Slughorn's memory, he did not want to risk the headmaster suspecting that it was not Horace Slughorn's memory. On top of that, he had his House Captain's duties to take care of which now included supervising Prep and the various study groups the fifth-years had started.
And on top of that, he had his class rankings to maintain and homework to turn in.
So by the time of the first Apparation class, Harry had only managed to go in search of the Horcrux twice. He was unsuccessful both times.
He wasn't the only one to be frustrated. After a week of huffy silence, Hermione had come wanting to make amends. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that nobody really wanted to talk to her. After he had hesitatingly accepted her apology, Harry decided to tell her about the task Dumbledore had given as a peace offering, even though he was overly formal with her. Like Ron, she had a partially sensible idea about how to get the memory from Slughorn. Hermione had also gone to the library in search of the term Horcruxes to sort of make amends. However, she found naught but a single sentence on the subject. Not that Harry expected anything more. The fact that she had managed to find that one sentence (even though it basically said nothing) was surprising in itself.
Hermione's researching spree got Harry wondering if the Black or Potter family library had any books on the subject. He doubted he would check though. The idea of splitting his very soul made him shudder.
The snow melted around the school as February arrived, to be replaced by cold, dreary wetness. Purplish-grey clouds hung low over the castle and a constant fall of chilly rain made the lawns slippery and muddy. The upshot of this was that the sixth years' first Apparition lesson, which was scheduled for a Saturday morning so that no normal lessons would be missed, took place in the Great Hall instead of in the grounds.
When Harry and Neville arrived in the Hall they found that the tables had disappeared. Rain lashed against the high windows and the enchanted ceiling swirled darkly above them as they assembled in front of Professors McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, and Sprout — the Heads of Houses — and a small wizard whom Harry took to be the Apparition instructor from the Ministry. He was oddly colourless, with transparent eyelashes, wispy hair, and an insubstantial air, as though a single gust of wind might blow him away. Harry wondered whether constant disappearances and reappearances had somehow diminished his substance, or whether this frail build was ideal for anyone wishing to vanish.
'Good morning,' said the Ministry wizard, when all the students had arrived and the Heads of Houses had called for quiet. 'My name is Wilkie Twycross and I shall be your Ministry Apparition instructor for the next twelve weeks. I hope to be able to prepare you for your Apparition Tests in this time —'
'Malfoy, be quiet and pay attention!' barked Professor McGonagall.
Everybody looked around. Malfoy had flushed a dull pink; he looked furious as he stepped away from Crabbe, with whom he ap peared to have been having a whispered argument. Harry glanced quickly at Snape, who also looked annoyed, though Harry strongly suspected that this was less because of Malfoy's rudeness than the fact that McGonagall had reprimanded one of his House.
'— by which time, many of you may be ready to take your tests,' Twycross continued, as though there had been no interruption.
'As you may know, it is usually impossible to Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts. The headmaster has lifted this enchantment, purely within the Great Hall, for one hour, to enable you to practice. May I emphasize that you will not be able to Apparate outside the walls of this Hall, and that you would be unwise to try.
'I would like each of you to place yourselves now so that you have a clear five feet of space in front of you.'
There was a great scrambling and jostling as people separated, banged into each other, and ordered others out of their space. The Heads of Houses moved among the students, marshalling them into position and breaking up arguments.
By the time the four Professors had called for order, Harry and his friends had managed to group up together. Looking around, Harry spotted Hermione and noticed that the girl was behind Malfoy and trying to eavesdrop on the conversation the blonde was having with Crabbe and Goyle. If she thought that Malfoy was going to say something important in such a public setting, then either she had been indulging in Billywig stings, or Malfoy was the worst evil spy in history.
'Thank you,' said Twycross. 'Now then …'
He waved his wand. Old-fashioned wooden hoops instantly appeared on the floor in front of every student.
'The important things to remember when Apparating are the three D's!' said Twycross. 'Destination, Determination, Deliberation!
'Step one: Fix your mind firmly upon the desired destination,' said Twycross. 'In this case, the interior of your hoop. Kindly concentrate upon that destination now.'
Everybody looked around furtively to check that everyone else was staring into their hoop, then hastily did as they were told. Harry gazed at the hoop in front of him lazily, noting that the elves really needed to clean the floor. It was in fact quite dusty.
'Step two,' said Twycross. 'Focus your determination to occupy the visualized space! Let your yearning to enter it flood from your mind to every particle of your body!'
Mentally snorting at the instructions of the second step, (was the man on herbs?) Harry glanced around surreptitiously. A little way to his left, Ernie Macmillan was contemplating his hoop so hard that his face had turned pink; it looked as though he was straining to lay a Quaffle-sized egg. Harry bit back a laugh and hastily returned his gaze to his own hoop.
'Step three,' called Twycross, 'and only when I give the command … Turn on the spot, feeling your way into nothingness, moving with deliberation! On my command, now … one —'
Harry glanced around again; lots of people were looking positively alarmed at being asked to Apparate so quickly. He noticed that Seamus was looking at him interestingly. The minute he caught Harry's eye, the Irish boy hastily gazed back at his own hoop.
'— Two —'
Harry fixed his thoughts on his hoop now waiting for the last count.
'— THREE!'
The whole Hall was suddenly full of staggering people; Neville was flat on his back; Ernie Macmillan, on the other hand, had done a kind of pirouetting leap into his hoop and looked momentarily thrilled, until he caught sight of Dean Thomas roaring with laughter at him.
Dean stopped laughing when he saw Harry Disapparate and Apparate with nary a whisper.
'How extraordinary!' said Twycross in undisguised surprise. He clearly had not expected this. 'On your first try too!' gathering himself, he focused back on the other sixth-years who were all staring at Harry unabashedly. 'All right, adjust your hoops and try again!'
Twycross made Harry repeat his performance three times, and got even more excited when Harry showed that his first time wasn't a fluke. The other sixth-years on the other hand were not successful, except for Susan who had managed on her third try to Apparate to her hoop sans her left leg.
'Splinching, or the separation of random body parts,' said Wilkie Twycross dispassionately, 'occurs when the mind is insufficiently determined. You must concentrate continuously upon your destination, and move, without haste, but with deliberation … just like this young man here.' He pointed to Harry who blushed slightly at the attention he was receiving.
By the end of the class, Susan was the only person besides Harry who had managed to Apparate. Not that Twycross noticed. He was too caught up with Harry's story of consciously Apparating as a child before knowing about magic. Impressed, Twycross offered to set up an Apparation test for Harry as soon as possible after he was informed that it was true that Harry had been emancipated.
Today was not a good day for Draco Malfoy. Scratch that, life wasn't great for Draco. The blond Slytherin sighed as he held his throbbing head in one hand.
And to think that a few months before, when he had returned home from school, he was actually excited.
He very well remembered that day; it was slightly warm and sunny, hinting at two months of bliss where he would do nothing but lounge about in the large family estate, spending his days lazily drifting about on his broom with his friends, staying up late at night and then waking up again at the crack of noon to repeat the cycle, all the while plotting vengeance on Potter. Hopefully, by the end of the week, he would forget about what was going on outside.
Of course, all that had gone out of the window when he found out that he was there. And that he wanted to see Draco.
The Dark Lord had surveyed Draco with his red pitiless eyes before speaking in a smooth silky voice. He had reignited a fire in Draco's heart, spinning a story of how the wretched Ministry and that blasted Muggle-lover Dumbledore had managed to capture and imprison Draco's father. The Dark Lord had then asked Draco if he wanted vengeance. Draco remembered how fired up and passionate he had been when he replied with a whispered 'Yes.'
Hearing this, the Dark Lord's eyes lit up an inhuman red as a delighted smile graced his face. To Draco's surprise, the Dark Lord had then offered him a place within his ranks. Draco had not objected. Looking pleased by the news, the Dark Lord had asked his aunt Bella to train him.
Draco heard tales about his mother's sister, Bellatrix, which he initially thought them to be exaggerated. But after meeting her, he realised that those stories did not do the woman justice. Brilliant and powerful, his aunt would have been an excellent Defence professor in Hogwarts, if she wasn't psychotic, insane, loony, mad, stark raving nuts, or whatever synonym Draco could think of for "insane".
Draco both loved and hated those lessons. He loved them because his aunt was brilliant at teaching and made those lessons fun, when she was in the mood. He simultaneously hated them because of her unpredictable mood swings. He never knew what would suddenly make her violently angry and found himself walking on eggshells around her.
Then the day came when he was Marked by the Dark Lord. Draco remembered being proud that he was the first one of his peers, nay, the first in his generation to be bestowed with such an honour. His mother, however, wasn't too happy. He remembered how she begged him not to take the Mark.
He should have listened to her.
After the Dark Lord had Marked him, he gave Draco his first assignment as a Death Eater: To infiltrate Hogwarts and kill Dumbledore.
Draco had been ecstatic. Now was his time! He would kill the barmy old codger and the Malfoys would regain the Dark Lord's favour and become his lieutenants in the new order. He was proud that the Dark Lord thought him capable to carry out such an important task that would go a long way in furthering their goals.
Draco had not listened to his mother's fears. He did not share his mother's assertion that it would be an extremely difficult task. After all, he knew of one easy way to get the mission done. He remembered Montague's story about being lost in the Vanishing Cabinet. A bit of research had supported his deduction that the cabinet in fact had a twin and that one could travel between cabinets. All he would need to do was to locate the other one, repair the one in Hogwarts and voilà; there was a ready-made method of ingress into Dumbledore's fortress, neatly bypassing both the ancient and the newly set up wards.
The Dark Lord had praised him on the plan and used his sources to locate the twin.
Borgin was more than easy to coerce into helping.
Thinking that the plan was already well under way, Draco departed for Hogwarts in high spirits. By the end of September, he would have the cabinet repaired and Dumbledore would meet his end. He had personally guaranteed this to his master.
Things had gone off smoothly at first; the cabinet was easily found in one of the storage rooms the old squib used. It was then transported with Crabbe and Goyle's help to the special room located on the seventh floor, the same room that Potter had used the last year for his illegal defence club. With the cabinet secured, he then stole into Hogsmeade, using one of the passages a Death Eater had told him about and got lucky when he nearly ran into Madame Rosmerta.
She never saw that Imperius curse coming.
Draco not only used her to establish a line of communication between him and Borgin, but as a celebration had lost his virginity with the older woman, who turned out to be not only highly susceptible to the curse, but also really great in bed.
All in all, Draco felt like a suave spy, an Unspeakable. Just like in his favourite set of books, The Adventures of Unspeakable Bennet. The fact that he had knowledge that the others were unaware of really excited him.
But then things started to go downhill. Draco soon found out that talking about repairing the cabinet was different from actually doing the repairs. The Vanishing Cabinet was so broken that he did not know where to start. It was then that he had first realised that he was in over his head.
Needless to say, Dumbledore was still alive and kicking by the end of September. Naturally the Dark Lord had not been pleased. Draco had been summoned almost immediately by his master where in the confines of his very own living room, with his own mother watching, he had been given his first dose of the Cruciatus Curse.
After ten minutes filled with doses of the Cruciatus Curse and being humiliated in front of the other Death Eaters in his own home, the Dark Lord had then loomed over a panting and (not that he would admit it) crying Draco. Leaning over him, his master cruelly smiled and, in a soft voice unheard by the others in the room, promised to kill his parents should Draco not complete the mission given to him by the end of the school year. And before Draco had time to respond, the Dark Lord had him dumped in the Forbidden Forest a mile away from Hogwarts.
Draco had developed a pathological fear of the Forest ever since that detention in his first year. And so, being dumped there with his body still twitching from the after-effects of the Cruciatus Curse in the middle of the night was nothing but cruel.
Draco still didn't know how he had made it back to the school and to his bed without being detected.
Now, desperate to have Dumbledore dead, he then contacted Borgin and bought the cursed necklace he remembered from second year using Rosmerta.
However, that plan was a disaster as well. While it was more than easy to Imperius the girl, Draco had not considered on one important fact: when the Imperius was cast on another person by a victim of the same curse, the curse lost some of its power. While that did not matter if the person was susceptible to the curse, the subtlety of the curse was gone. That meant that anybody close to the victim could tell there was something wrong.
So it was natural that the Imperiused girl was found out. What was worse, however, was the public way in which she was exposed.
Draco was surprised that he felt horrified by the thought that he had killed another person. Hearing about how the girl had spent three days battling the curse on the necklace before finally succumbing left him devastated.
However, that wasn't the worst of his worries. For the Dark Lord had summoned him again. And the Dark Lord was not pleased. Draco's plan had backfired so spectacularly it had the school nearly closing down. The end effect was that Hogwarts became even more of a fortress and the Hogsmeade weekends cancelled making further rendezvous more risky. This near disaster had the dark wizard spitting nails, as a closed Hogwarts meant a freer Dumbledore, and a freer Dumbledore was a dangerous thing for the Dark Side.
This time, Draco was not cursed. The Dark Lord had decided, as he said with a cruel smirk, that things would look suspicious if his little Death Eater returned to school showing clear signs of exposure to significant torture, so had elected to spare Draco the suffering. However, as she rarely stepped outside the manor, his mother was fair game. Draco was forced to watch as his mother was subjected to curse after torturous curse in front of his very own eyes. His mum had been brave, but eventually the proud woman had given in. Draco would never forget the screams. He now knew that his master was serious when he threatened to kill Draco's parents.
Due to this, Draco started doubling his efforts. Before he used to spend every night in the Room, now he practically lived there, not coming out for days at a time. His marks suffered as a result and he lost a lot of weight as he had stopped eating regularly and his skin had turned a grey hue due to the lack of sunlight.
And while he did not have the Dark Lord and his now increasingly difficult mission to contend with, he also had the good fortune to have attracted the suspicions of the Blood-Traitor Weasley and that bushy haired Mudblood bint Granger. Both of them had taken it upon themselves to start tailing him.
Initially, Draco was amused by their bumbling attempts at stealth. A troll was stealthier than they could ever hope to be. He even nicknamed them the "clumsy couple". He was surprised though that Potter hadn't joined them. Of course, that was before he found out that Potter was actually enjoying life and not bothering with anything other than schoolwork and Quidditch.
Unfortunately, after the fiasco of the first Hogsmeade incident, the duo had upped the ante. And soon, not only was Draco forced to finish with his repairs as soon as possible, but do it without raising suspicion or tipping the Clumsy Couple as to what he was doing and where it was he was going. And to do that, he not only had to avoid his annoying Gryffindor tails, but he also had to stay under the sneakoscopes of everyone in the castle. And that meant attending classes and doing homework.
When he had returned home for the winter holidays, he had spent every waking moment under intense training from the Lestranges, whom he had been shocked to find broken out of prison along with his father. Apparently the Dark Lord had decided that they had suffered long enough. Draco did not know how, but the Dark Lord had managed to fool the wizarding authorities and the public into thinking that the captured Death Eaters were still in Azkaban. While he had been happy to lay eyes on his father for the first time in nearly a year, he was shocked to see the sadness in the man's eyes when he saw his son in Death Eater robes.
When he finally managed to meet his father privately for a few precious moments, he understood why. It turned out that his father had used one of the Dark Lord's personal possessions to open the Chamber of Secrets in second year without his master's express permission. Because of this, along with his failure at the Ministry and rumours he had heard, Lucius believed that Draco's task and induction was done to exact revenge and punish Lucius for what he had done. Lucius had also shared with his son the fact that the Dark Lord expected Draco to die carrying out his task.
This revelation had stopped Draco cold. To think that his wise and all powerful master was so cruel and heartless to send a person on a suicide mission, that the same Dark Lord, who spouted off about the importance of Pure Blood would be so willing to eradicate an entire Pure Blood family over an enchanted diary scared him. Draco was many things, but suicidal was not one of them.
It was this, along with the amount of torture Draco had observed done to his brethren that had shown the true nature of the man, no, the monster, which was residing in his home. The same monster he had joined. The Dark Lord was nothing but a power hungry old man who showed the same amount of mercy towards his followers as he did to his enemies. And that was none. Draco now understood what his mother had been trying to tell him all those months back.
Not that he had a choice. He doubted that he ever did have a choice. No, the only thing left to do would be to complete this heavy task, and hope for success, as anything else could very well mean the end of the Malfoy line.
There was no one he could go to. No allies he could call upon. Sure Crabbe and Goyle were there and willing, (not that they understood what Draco was up to) but they really weren't that competent. Pansy and the rest of his acquaintances in Slytherin were not in the loop, and Draco wanted to spare them the knowledge that they would be aiding a murder. Professor Snape wasn't to be trusted. No matter what the man said or the claims he made, Draco did not trust him. The boy knew that he was the Dark Lord's most trusted spy, and was also close to Dumbledore at the same time. Because of this, he wasn't sure if the man would betray him to Dumbledore or the Dark Lord. For all he knew the spy was only offering his assistance on the Dark Lord's orders to give the Dark Lord an excuse to kill him.
Of course, Draco did have the option of defecting to the Light. However, he knew that Dumbledore could be just as ruthless as the Dark Lord. After all, Dumbledore was the only one the Dark Lord ever feared. There had to be a reason for that. Draco also doubted that Dumbledore would be willing or able to protect his family from the Dark Lord, considering that the Dark Lord resided in Malfoy Manor. He had heard stories from his father of how much the old man opposed the Malfoys and how hard the old mage had tried to get his father and grandfather imprisoned after the First Wizarding War.
So here he was; Draco Malfoy, incapable of protecting his family, incapable of repairing a simple broken Vanishing Cabinet, incapable of making the right choices and barely capable of loosing Granger and Weasley. A screw up, that's what he was: plain and simple.
Draco sighed as he got up. He had wasted enough time reminiscing. He had to get back to work. Looking around, he sighed again when he couldn't find Crabbe or Goyle. He did not have the time to go looking for those two nincompoops, nor did he have the time to take the night off. He would have to risk it. He ran his hand through his hair and grimaced when he noticed quite a few loose strands in his hand. The fact that the stress had caused him to start balding at the age of sixteen (he noticed his hair thinning just yesterday when he first managed to get a proper glimpse of himself in a mirror) just depressed him more.
Picking up his wand, he wearily headed up towards the Room of Requirement.
'Oh for crying out-' Harry finished his sentence with an irritated and annoyed blasting curse aimed at the jewelled piece of headwear in front of him, destroying it completely. This was the fifteenth diadem he had found in the room, and like the previous fourteen, wasn't just damaged and worthless, but more importantly, not Ravenclaw's diadem.
'Heaven forbid if finding the Horcrux was easy,' Harry muttered sarcastically as he uttered the Point Me Spell again. Still grumbling, he set off in the latest direction.
Nearly a month had passed. And all he had to show for it was fifteen destroyed useless coronets, and probably ten kilograms of accumulated dust and dirt.
Wiping the sweat from his grimy forehead, Harry consulted the map the Room had graciously provided and walked down the latest alleyway of junk, making sure to mark his way. It wouldn't do to get lost in this place.
Entering the room, Draco made his way to where the cabinet was. As he journeyed in, he noticed something that stopped him in his tracks. For on a broken cupboard on his left, was a yellow paint smear.
Someone had been here. And judging by the fresh look of the smear, they were here recently and might have still been around and possibly heading towards the cabinet. Draco's mind immediately went towards his two tails. It would be very bad if they somehow found out about the room and the cabinet.
Heart hammering, he drew his wand and started moving slowly. Absently he cursed for not having the foresight to bring those useful products the Weasel's elder twin brothers had made. The irony of using it on their younger sibling would have been really sweet. Draco grudgingly admitted that they were brilliant. It seems that the youngest two of the family were the only empty headed ones. Although the parents seemed to be slightly dim too.
Hearing footsteps ahead, he stealthily made his way forward, absently running through the "training" (which really was just an excuse the other Death Eaters used to take out all their frustrations and failures out on him) that had been drilled into his skull.
Peering around the elbow of the enormous stuffed troll that he had placed as a landmark, he saw not the Clumsy Couple, but Potter. Immediately hate began to well up in him. While he no longer blamed him for his father being imprisoned, Draco still hated Potter. Potter had everything. A carefree life, fame, the ear of the headmaster... And what was worse was that Draco could have been there next to him. Only Potter had to take Weasley in. The situation his family found themselves in was all Potter's fault. Well, it was Potter – Black now, (Draco, like the rest of the school, had heard about the contract) but to him he would always be Potter. Draco observed the dark haired boy (his cousin he realised with a horrified jolt). He was a bit farther away and he looked to be searching for something. Suddenly, Potter stopped looking around as a look of triumph and excitement came on his face. Giving out a triumphant 'Aha,' the boy started walking forward.
Right. Towards. The. Cabinet.
Draco's eyes widened in panic: Potter must not get to that cabinet. He had no idea how Potter had found out about it, but that did not matter right now. What mattered was keeping that cabinet safe.
Raising his hand he carefully aimed his wand at Potter's back and sent out a silent body-bind curse.