A/N
Please notice that I replaced chapter 11. The old chapter is now posted as a one-shot under the old title ("And the winner is").
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A thousand rooms
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Longbottom Manor – 4th of August 1996
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Frank Longbottom calmly watched his son pack his belongings. With Hermione's transfigurations and Daphne's long-lasting charms, the three-chamber-trunk was more than enough to comfortably fit everything Neville could ever need over the next weeks.
"You're certain I shouldn't accompany you?" Frank knew the answer already but he had to ask nonetheless. With Neville just having turned sixteen – and therefore being only a single short year shy of an adult in the magical world – it were moments like this where he missed those years of playing the overprotective father. "I want to help you. I want to be here for you." There it was in the open, his desire of feeling needed. Frank sighed. Neville was already so un-teenager-ish. He had been forced to grow up far too early, this was obvious.
Neville, while still a bit unused at this whole father-son-matter, actually understood his father quite well. It wasn't so different to him wanting to help Harry. "You'll help me the most by staying here, Dad." He smiled softly and after a moment of hesitation he walked over and hugged his father. He was nearly as tall as Frank now and, thanks to his training, his shoulders were already broader and his muscles far stronger. Frank felt a bit like being hugged by a bear. "I need you here with Grandma. An additional pair of eyes won't matter much with the search, but someone has to look after her. I trust you to take care of her. She's not sleeping enough these weeks and she could eat more. Perhaps a walk in the gardens from time to time…"
"You're sounding awfully like your mother and Hermione," Frank joked.
Neville simply nodded. "I'll take that as a compliment." He turned around, put some more books into his trunk and as an afterthought the dagger he got from Charlie Weasley a year ago. You never know…
"How long will you stay at Hogwarts?"
Neville shrugged. "I don't know." His face split into a grin. "As long as I need." His grin broadened when Frank rolled his eyes and muttered something sounding awful like "Hermione".
"I don't know how long we'll have to search for the Horcrux. Hogwarts is awfully big and difficult to navigate. Harry intends to spend the 11th with the Weasleys – Ginny's 15th birthday. And I'll be there on the 14th, I promise."
Frank's face turned sour and serious. He didn't like to think about the duel. His mother was in the right but her opponent was fearsome. Even with the trial of grievance acting as an equalizer of magical power, he didn't know for sure if it would be enough. Having just returned from his decade-long slumber, he hated the idea of losing his mother. Frank Longbottom was a law-abiding man. You could even call him God-fearing, despite him not being a Christ but believing in some universal laws that shouldn't be broken by any man. In a moment like this however, even he was tempted to solve the problem with a little help – in the form of a deadly poison. In his opinion Albus too-many-middle names Dumbledore didn't deserve such a trial. Instead he should be killed like a rabid dog.
"And after that? You're still planning to go to Prague?"
"Yeah," Neville nodded, turning to his trunk to hide his blush. He didn't know that his father noticed the red colour of his neck – and the reason of the blushing.
"Together with Hermione?" Frank only obeyed his natural duty as Neville's father: sometimes he had to pick and poke; embarrassing your own son could be a real fun sometimes.
The redness only intensified and Neville fooled around with the clothes in his trunk to avoid turning around. "All of us together, yes," he mumbled. It was already planned that they would go to Prague and help with the search for the second of the three missing Horcruxes. So far they intended to use a portkey to the embassy in Prague on the 15th of August. Harry and Daphne, Hermione and he would stay there, acting like tourists with the help of long-lasting Polyjuice. Neville sighed with a slight tremble. He would share a double-room with Hermione for a while. And he didn't need his father to tease him about it.
With a jolt he closed the trunk and turned around. "It's time to go."
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Across the floor
Hermione was just as nervous as Neville. However she had other reasons to feel like this. While she thought about Prague and their plans to stay there from time to time – actually she had very concrete plans with Neville now being sixteen as well, plans that had something to do with her last little shopping trip – her mind was mostly stuck on something far different.
She was sitting on her bed right now, her trunk waiting beside the door. Unlike Neville she had started to pack two days ago and had been ready for some time. Only one object still needed to get into her well-used bag. It was a very unique figurine from a very special Arabian woman. While her decision to give it a try had already been made a week before, the doubts still hit her from time to time. Crooks was a clever, intuitive and all-around astonishing tomcat. But still – could he be trusted to make this decision if even she had no idea whether it would be the right thing to do?
She researched the matter – in depth and scrupulous. Nothing surprising there, Hermione smiled without humour. She knew her own quirks well enough. It wasn't like turning a Siam cat into a Persian, not even like a lion growing into a tiger. This would be far more. His magical core would change, as well as his intellect and senses. His life expectancy would significantly increase.
Hermione closed her eyes and admitted to herself: she had only one doubt and one fear, that Crooks would change too much and outgrow her, that he wouldn't be her familiar anymore. It was a selfish fear and she knew it, but she couldn't help it. She loved her Crooks and…
Hermione sniffed, her eyes still closed. Suddenly she felt something at her side, something fluffy. She opened her eyes and saw Crooks, sitting at her side and bopping his head into her. He sat up and stared her down. Hermione was certain that Crooks knew exactly what was bothering her. And obviously he didn't share her doubts and fears. His eyes told her: silly girl, I'll never leave you.
Crooks squeaked a bit as Hermione grabbed him and hugged him dearly, but he endured it.
Tin-openers had a right to be weird sometimes.
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Hogwarts Castle – History of Magic class room – still 4th of August
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The seats in the classroom slowly filled will all kind of helpers who had promised to land a hand in the search. Each of them had, after entering the room, to subscribe a non-disclosure statement created by Hermione and Daphne. It wasn't really necessary with the nature of those persons present, but it would help them avoid involuntarily spilling out the secret.
Most of the teachers were already there, their help indispensable in Harry's eyes. Only Hagrid and Trelawney were missing – the former because of his size and tendency to speak without thinking, the later for other reasons. Minerva McGonagall looked up from her whispered conversation with Madam Sprout as loud voices announced the arrival of a few more guests. With a hint of panic her eyes searched for Harry and his friends.
"Please don't tell me…"
It was too late for complaining or hiding. Six redheads entered the room, the loudest first, and the calmer ones at the end. "Minnie!" Fred yelled – or was it George? Minerva wasn't certain. Unlike Daphne and Hermione she had never been able to detect the little differences. So she did the best she could at the moment: she glared at the boys and tried to bully them into silence. It didn't work, their grins only broadened. Successfully finishing their NETWs had done wonders to their self-confidence – not that they lacked in that department from the start. In the end it was Percy who came to her rescue. Smacking the twins' heads he growled "behave" and to Minerva's surprise they actually listened. Obviously something had seriously changed in the House of Weasley.
In the meantime, Ginny jumped Hermione and hugged Daphne afterwards, instantly starting to babble about her forthcoming birthday. Arthur had actually been quite happy to get his daughter out of the house for a few days to have some peace for the preparations. Charlie and Bill on the other hand followed their sister with a more serene peace and greeted Harry and Neville with manly slaps to their backs.
"It makes sense," Madam Sprout tried to sooth her old friend.
Minerva had to agree, irrespective how much toothache the twins' presence caused her. Nobody knew more about hidden corners and chambers at Hogwarts than those two miscreants – aside from another duo of miscreants, sitting at the back of the room, barely controlled by their better halves. Remus and Sirius were sitting there with Carmen and Tonks, waiting for Harry to open the meeting. They were eager to help and being two of the creators of the Marauders' map, they knew even more about the castle's secrets than the twins.
Merlin help us, Minerva sent a short prayer to haven. We have to rely on four pranksters. They'll never let us forget it if one of them actually finds the Diadem.
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Hogwarts – Edge of the Forbidden Forest – 6th of August
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"Don't stall anymore he said," Hermione growled and kicked away another innocent stone whose only fault was to lie in the wrong place at the wrong time. Poor stone, was the message in Crook's eyes. He was trotting a few steps behind his mistress, completely unimpressed by her little temper tantrum.
"I'm not procrastinating," Hermione claimed. 'Sure' was Crook's obvious comment. Whoever stated that cats wouldn't understand irony, obviously never met a Kneazle.
Hermione looked up to the sky, where Mandragora was hovering. Neville' owl was keeping an eye on her, while her boyfriend carefully kept out of her sight. He wasn't a coward, oh no, only experienced and self-preserving. They had been at Hogwarts for two days. For two days he had been pestering her to go through with the ritual. This morning, after their common breakfast, he pushed her bag into her hand and muttered something like "go", gesturing towards the Forest, the place she had chosen days ago for the ritual. It was the same spot Daphne had used six months ago for her second familiar ritual.
She stopped at the edge of the forest and glanced down. Crooks seemed a little impatient now. Hermione knew how childish it was to be anxious about it. It wasn't like anything would happen to her. If someone should be afraid about the result of this ritual, it would be Crooks. And he appeared confident enough. Now he even started to butt her ankle and with a helpless sigh Hermione complied. Walking into the forest, she soon reached her destination. It was a little clearing with a small pond dominating it. It was easy to feel the spot where Balou had undergone the ritual. The magic was murmuring far stronger there even after all these months.
Hermione slowly walked towards the place and dropped her bag on the ground, staring at the grass and Crooks without actually seeing them. She neither noticed Mandragora fluttering onto a branch of a tall oak or Neville who edged through the forest and towards the clearing a few minutes later. He frowned as he noticed Hermione still standing there, as if day-dreaming. Here connection to Crooks had immensely increased somehow since her return from Sudan. Something happened to her over there that opened a new side in her heart. It was a side he liked very much, a more emotional side, more spontaneous and more prone to cuddling and kissing. It could be said it was a more cat-like side. However, it was the same side that now caused her to be afraid of the ritual. She feared to lose this connection, perhaps even to return to her former self. Hermione was a logical and mostly controlled person, but now she wanted to be more than that.
Muttering some assuring word to herself, Hermione knelt down and pulled some objects from her bag. Headmaster Flitwick explained the figurine to be enough to empower the intended ritual. The gathering of herbs, stones and nastier organic components was only to help Crooks and make the transformation smoother. Minerva had been present at their last conversation and added a few things to the list, her eyes glinting in a weird light.
Far too fast for Hermione's taste she was ready. Crooks had long taken his intended position, knowing without words or gestures where his place would be. With a weak smile Hermione pulled the last object from her bag, the figurine. She kept it in her hand while trying to calm her nerves. Suddenly she jumped forward and hugged Crooks for the second time today. Neville was nearly as teary-eyed as Hermione at the sight. Thankfully Mandragora wanted nothing of it. It let loose a nasty and permeating screech, instantly stopping all emotional fuss.
Hermione let go of her tomcat who surprisingly didn't complain. She angrily wiped her tears away and put the figurine down with a tad too much force. Neville knew the ritual to be very short. It was only a short phrase Hermione had to mutter a few times, written on the stomach of the figurine. It was written in ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs but somehow Hermione had known what they meant from the start.
Neville watched Hermione as she started to say the phrase with a loud and clear voice. He didn't understand a single word and later wouldn't be able to repeat any of them. However he clearly felt the magic and he heard the response. The mewling came from everywhere around the clearing. Aghast he looked around, only to see dozens of cats, fierce wildcats and Kneazles watching the show. Hagrid had told them about all the cats – mundane and magical – populating the forest. To see them however was something completely different.
Hermione however didn't seem to notice them or even care. Actually she didn't seem to really be here anymore. She was sitting across Crooks, swaying back and forth, repeating the phrase a few dozen times. The magical murmur grew louder and louder and Neville became slightly concerned. This was far more than the magic involved in Balou's ritual. Was this necessary? Was this intended? He nearly had an apoplexy when the first lion growl erupted from the forest. A dozen more answered. With wide eyes he stared around, waiting for something to appear. For a while nothing more happened. There was still the magic in the air, a lion's growl now and then and the wind – Neville had never been in Africa but he always imagined a sand storm to thunder and roar like this.
Suddenly something appeared between the cats at the edge of the forest. It looked like a lioness, but it was shining and Neville was able to see the trees behind the lioness' body. More of her sisters appeared and after a while eleven of them were forming a circle. Eleven, Neville mused. With Crooks and Hermione they are thirteen again.
His eyes were drawn to the middle of the clearing and he gasped. Both Crooks and Hermione were shining brightly as well now. He felt the magic pour from the ground and through Hermione's body towards Crooks. Wave after wave of magic streamed into the tiny tomcat's body and started … something. The choir of lions now growled without pause, battling the crescendo of the magical storm around them. Neville's hands clawed into the earth and around a tree root to prohibit him from rushing at Hermione's side. He really wanted to be there now, but his interference would surely prompt catastrophic results.
With a last thunderous clap both sandstorm and lions growling stopped. An extremely bright flash of light forced Neville to close his eyes. As he opened them again, he didn't see anything for a while. Only very slowly did his eyesight return and he was able to see what had happened. As he realized the result, he wished he wasn't in the know.
"Oh my," he mumbled. This was certainly unexpected.
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Hogwarts – a wee bit later
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Harry felt splendid. He couldn't help it, he simply did. Perhaps he should feel sadder, more disappointed or exhausted, after nearly three days of fruitless search, but he somehow knew that they would be successful in the end. And then there was the change he felt within himself, so different from anything he had ever felt. He was calmer and more excited at the same time. Harry didn't feel the same restlessness and temper as before the cleansing ritual. Everything seemed brighter, more hopeful and more vivid. It was incredible.
Spiritualist Nowles already announced her intention to perform a number of additional test after a few weeks to allow everything to settle in. She expected an increase in magical power, fine tuning and memory power. He already sensed something change and it seemed to intensify with every passing day.
Yes, Harry felt splendid. There was only one matter that troubled him in all his glory. And this "matter" was walking right beside him. Daphne had been unconscious after the cleansing for nearly thirty-six hours. Even now she was weak, short-winded and looking pale. Roxanne only allowed her to take part in the search because she knew there was no way to stop her. However, Daphne had to promise not to use magic for the next few days and to always stay near Harry. She certainly felt a little like a toddler right now, Harry assumed.
A low growl escaped Daphne as she caught Harry glancing in her direction again with those concerned puppy-eyes. "I don't feel like fainting any second, you know? I don't have a delicate constitution like you all are trying to imply."
Harry sent her a wry smile. "I would know about you being in a delicate condition, wouldn't I?"
His words made her blush deeply, and she covered up with punching his shoulder: "git, you know what I mean."
They continued to walk towards the fourth floor, with Daphne playing with the small replica in her elegant hands. Harry really liked to watch her hands; in a way they were even more sensual than her neck and her sport-honed legs. The replica was one of the Ravenclaw Diadem. With Nowles' help he had examined his memories of the "follow the Horcrux line"-experience. Doing that, he had been able to identify the Horcrux hidden in Hogwarts. It was the Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, an artefact thought to be lost centuries ago.
Harry grinned as he remembered Luna Lovegood elbowing the tiny Headmaster into creating a dozen replicas. As the sole Ravenclaw among the searchers, she had been the one to remember the statue of the Grand Lady, standing in the Ravenclaw commons and wearing exactly this diadem. The picture of Luna grasping Millie Bulstrode's hand and pulling her towards the Ravenclaw tower to search it, however, still send shudders down his spine. They were a weird couple – if they were a couple. He wasn't certain about it, about their "status". Somehow however they just fit. He would watch them closely – and he knew Daphne and Hermione would too.
They had been searching the castle ever since. The four heads had mostly searched their own towers, each of them finding no hint about the Diadem but enough of other things hidden there to guarantee a number of interesting conversations with some of their students after the break.
"One question still disturbs me," Daphne mumbled after silently ascending the stairs for a while.
"Only question?" Harry teased.
Daphne raised a single eyebrow and smiled thinly as Harry stepped away and put a protecting hand on his shoulder. "How did he find it? And when was he able to hide it at Hogwarts?"
"Those are two questions," Harry drawled.
"Funny," Daphne grumbled.
Harry shrugged. "I don't think we'll ever know how he found it. However, we could ask Hagrid about those times Tom had been at Hogwarts after his NEWTs." In moments like this he felt the loss of Dumbledore's cooperation. The former Headmaster would certainly be of help right now. However, this didn't change anything.
"I'll ask Hagrid tonight."
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Hogwarts – a wee bit later
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"Mister Longbottom, was is the meaning of this?" Minerva McGonagall was one part angry and three parts annoyed as she stormed into the Hospital Wing, following the call of Neville's unusual Patronus. Both fake feelings did nothing to hide her concern. If Neville Longbottom demanded her immediate presence in the Hospital Wing, he certainly had good reasons. There were few students around Hogwarts less prone to exaggerations or senseless panic attacks, not since Neville found his "inner middle".
The sight of an all-orange full Kneazle stopped her dead-cold. Her face split into the broadest grin, a very uncommon and slightly frightening sight with the usually so self-controlled woman. "It worked. It really worked."
"Yes, it did," Neville agreed, not nearly as happy as she expected him to be. Minerva frowned and waited for an explanation. It came with Neville pulling the blanket aside. There was another cat, one Minerva had never seen before, neither at Hogwarts nor anywhere else. She looked similar to an Egyptian Mau, but not completely so. While the Egyptian Mau was more or less a normal housecat, this one had slightly longer legs. While her back, hind legs and tail was spotted like with a real Mau, her head and front legs were striped. She was bigger than a house cat as well, lighter build but with the size of a lynx. The most disturbing however was the strong aura of confusion Minerva was feeling.
"Whom does this cat belong to?"
Neville pondered about the question and answered somewhat uncertain. "You could say, she belongs to me – in a way at least."
"In a way?" Minerva wondered.
"Perhaps I should tell you her name."
Minerva nodded, despite having no idea what the cat's name could explain.
"Allow me to introduce to you … Hermione."
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"Hermione isn't an Animagus," Harry grumbled, not for the first time. "She tested it, two years ago, with the rest of us. She can't learn the spell."
"Things change," Neville shrugged. He was sitting on the bed with Hermione on his lap. She was still very confused and a bit frightened, but slowly calmed down. Neville's presence certainly helped, as did Minerva's promise to find a solution to her little furry problem.
"And Nel said she can't learn the spell right now," Daphne corrected him. "Hermione told me that Nel saw a chance that her change of temper of the years would be enough to learn the spell at a later time, perhaps after our NEWTs."
Neville understood. "She wanted to ask you if it would be alright for her to learn it, for you to be left the only one among us without an Animagus form."
"Ten points to Hufflepuff," Daphne nodded with a grin. "You know her. She felt like betraying my… my sacrifice." Daphne still felt a slight pang in her heart when she thought about her decision not to learn the Animagus spell and instead concentrate on her abilities as a spirit healer. She still thought it to be worth it, now more than before the cleansing.
"Silly girl," Neville ruffled Hermione's fur, with Crooks closely watching him. He was the only one completely calm about the whole matter. Neither his own transformation – which increased his sized and a few details about his appearance but did nothing to change his ugliness and the squashed-looking mouth – nor Hermione's seemed to bother him.
"Thank God her boyfriend is nothing like that," Daphne responded with no small amount of irony. Neville blushed. He remembered quite well his offer to Hermione not to learn the Animagus spell, an offer made because of her assumed inability.
He sighed. "At least I can still feel her. It's feeling a little different than usual, but it's slowly normalizing."
Harry nodded. He was feeling the same. Their mindlink was attempting to adjust to Hermione's change, but he assumed it was mostly her confusion about the sudden transformation.
"Minerva will find something, Mione. We'll have you back in no time."
"I'm certain," Neville jauntily interjected "she's only annoyed because she can't read a book right now to bridge the time."
Hermione's claws instantly taught him the error of teasing his girlfriend – even if she was caught in the body of a cat.
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Hogwarts – fifth floor – 8th of August
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It had been a good idea, really. Neville wandered along the dark corridor, watching for sign of any hidden alcoves or other stashes to conceal the desired object. With the help of Hagrid and Professor McGonagall they had been able to pin down the day Tom Riddle had been at Hogwarts. More than thirty years ago he had been here, officially to offer his service as the next DADA teacher. With Albus Dumbledore already being Headmaster back then and more than a little suspicious of his former pupil, there had been no chance in hell to actually get the position, and Riddle must have realized that.
So why had he been here?
The answer… to hide the Diadem of Ravenclaw!
The next step had been to track the way he used back then. This, however, was far easily said than done. It was quite easy to identify the "usual" route taken from the entrance to the Headmaster's office. However, he could have used any corridor and taken more time than necessary. In the end it had been Luna Lovegood who suggested asking the paintings. She had worked persistently to identify those paintings that remembered to have seen him and to create a map of where the painting had been in those days. In the end they got a surprising result. Or perhaps it wasn't so surprising. Instead it was what they had expected the whole time.
Tom Riddle had entered the castle on that day only to take a meandering route through a bigger part of Hogwarts. He had been in the dungeons as well as some of the higher levels. He had entered a few classrooms and spent some time in parts of the corridors that weren't watched by paintings. Harry assumed that Riddle had been suspicious of the paintings and tried to hide his true destination. This, naturally, made it much harder to find.
"Meow!"
Crooks mewling stopped his day-dreaming. Neville looked up and saw the tomcat strutting towards the stairs, where a somewhat impatient looking Hermione was waiting for him. Until two days ago, Neville had no idea that a cat could actually look impatient. Hermione however, was fabulous at her cat-impression of "stern Minerva" or "you're a dunderhead Snape". With a smile and a warm feeling he hurried towards her.
"Coming!"
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Same time – other part of the castle
While they ascended the stairs to the seventh floor, Harry following Daphne to catch her should she stumble – and to enjoy the sight, which was absolutely fabulous in his opinion, with no robe hiding the view of her jeans-clad derriere – the teenagers thought about Hermione again. So far neither Minerva, Remus nor even Sirius had been able to help their friend. She was still trapped in her cat form. They had only been able to ascertain that it was really an Animagus form and not some transformation spell like the "ferret spell" the false Moody had used on Draco Malfoy years ago.
So, why wasn't she able to transform back to her human self? She had been learning the spells and procedures together with Harry and Neville. God, she certainly knew the whole procedure better than anybody apart from Professor McGonagall – in theory at last. They had sent a message to Sudan, but so far got no response. For now they had to wait. In the meantime Hermione was accompanying Neville and helping with the search. She had been successful in finding quite a few hidden crannies so far, but none of them contained the Diadem.
Distracted by his thoughts about Hermione, Harry noticed too late that Daphne had stopped and was looking thoughtfully at the wall. He crashed into her and was barely able to prevent them from falling to the floor. Instead of scolding him as he had expected her to do, Daphne only continued to look thoughtful and asked.
"Were are we?"
"Hogwarts?" Harry tried to joke, earning him only a small glare. He looked around. "Seventh floor…" his eyes widened. "Near the Room of Requirement".
Daphne nodded. "Wouldn't that be a very useful place to hide something?"
Harry agreed. He stepped in front of Barnabas the Barmy. Harry had always loved the story about Barnabas trying to teach ballet to trolls of all beings. It must have been quite a sight. "Good afternoon, sir."
Barnabas frowned for a moment. He was used to having his calm and peace around here. "Good afternoon, Mister Potter," he responded nonetheless. "Have you been successful with your search?" All paintings knew about the search by now, not the nature of the object naturally but about the ongoing search itself. With more than twenty people running around it was hardly inconspicuous.
"Regretfully not," Harry sighed. "I have a small inquiry, sir, if you don't mind."
Barnabas simply nodded him to continue.
"Did you known Mister Tom Riddle by any chance… during his days at the school?"
"Yes," Barnabas happily replied. "He was a quite charming fellow, always polite, always a minute to spare for an old man. Not as rushed as they are nowadays."
Harry frowned for a moment. It was difficult to imagine the snake-man he met at the graveyard to have been charming at any age. But somehow he had been able to convince dozens of purebloods to follow his lead. There simply had to have been something about him in his youth, more than bloodthirstiness and angry words.
"Do you remember if he was ever here after leaving school?" Not all paintings remembered Riddle's visit. Some of them had been sleeping. And Harry hadn't seen Barnabas' name on the list of painting-testimonies – despite two other pictures on the seventh floor remembering him.
"He has never been on the seventh floor," Barnabas sadly replied.
The determined answer got Harry's attention. Barnabas didn't say "I don't remember" but appeared to be convinced about it. He has never been here.
"You mean, sir," Daphne interjected "that he has never been on the seventh floor after finishing his education?" What was she getting at?
Barnabas blinked. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and pondered the question. After a while he gave a weird answer: "no, I mean he has never been on the seventh floor altogether."
Harry and Daphne exchanged a thoughtful look, both having the same idea. "Have you ever been on another floor, Sir? Your painting I mean?"
"No," he shook his head. "I've always been here, always guarding… you know," he winked knowingly.
Always guarding the RoR, Harry realized. Certainly he has been positioned here by one of the former Headmasters.
He pulled Daphne aside, out of hearing range. "Is it possible to memory charm a painting?"
"Use a Confundus spell on him, you mean?"
Harry nodded.
"I assume so," Daphne responded hesitantly. "We should ask Mum… or Headmaster Flitwick."
"Alright," Harry mused loudly. "Let's assume for now that it is possible. Tom Riddle could only have one reason to hide his visit from Barnabas. He wanted to enter the RoR without anybody's knowledge."
"If the Diadem is in there," Daphne asked "how do we find it? The RoR is not a single room. It's more like…" She stopped. "Actually I have no idea what it is."
"Perhaps it's like one of those holodecks in Star Trek. A bare room and with the ability to simulate anything you wish."
"So, there would be an empty base room?" Daphne had been forced to watch a number of Star Trek – Next Generation episodes a few months ago. Because of this she at least had an idea of what Harry was speaking of. She nearly sniggered as she imagined explaining a holodeck to Headmaster Flitwick.
"It's possible at least. Who would know about such a thing? And how to enter it," Harry wondered.
Both had the same idea at the same moment: House Elves.
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House-elf friends
"Dobby!"
"Ciddy!"
Seconds later both house-elves appeared out of thin air.
"Master has called?" Dobby asked hopefully. Ciddy said nothing but glared scathingly at her mistress for not taking better care of herself. It had nearly been more difficult to convince her than Roxanne into being allowed to take part in the search party. Without asking she pushed a mug of steaming hot herbal tea into Daphne's hands. The girl knew better than to object. She sat down – two chairs appearing right behind Harry and her – and enjoyed her tea, while leaving the conversation to Harry.
In the meantime Harry told both house-elves about his idea, trying to stay simple as he wasn't certain how much they would understand about magical theory – or holodecks.
"Do you know if there is anything like that," he asked. "like a 'basic room'?" To his surprise Dobby and Ciddy flinched and shared a look. They seemed to be a little afraid.
"This is really important, Ciddy." Daphne said with that voice she spared for her little sister when being afraid of a nightly storm. It was really soft, warm and caring, and it did the job. Ciddy calmed down again and whispered, more directed towards Dobby than Daphne: "I'll get the matron."
"Matron?" Harry wondered, only speaking to empty air as Ciddy had left without further explanation.
"Master wait," Dobby only answered. In his inner turbulence he automatically returned to his former 'house-elf speech'. And so waiting they did.
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Matron Mathilda
"Why do you want to know?"
Harry found himself under the scrutinizing glare of the oldest house-elf he ever met. She had reappeared with Ciddy a few minutes later and her tiny face showed a mix of suspicion and cold fury. Harry had no idea what caused this. About one thing however he was certain: neither Professor McGonagall's nor Snape's glare could compare to this one. He had stared Voldemort down, but right now he felt like a seven year old caught by his stern grandma with marmalade around his mouth.
With more than a hint of trepidation he glanced towards the four house-elves accompanying her. They wore an arsenal of kitchen knives and frying pans. It should have been a funny sight, but it really wasn't.
"You are Matron Mathilda, aren't you?" Daphne asked, still using her soft voice. She appeared unafraid so far. Harry had never heard of a Matron among the house-elves nor the name Mathilda. On the other hand it made sense that there was some kind of leader among them. Certainly the Headmaster wouldn't be in charge of arranging the work.
"I am," the Matron looked in her direction, her face smoothing a few of the angry wrinkles after recognizing her. "You're the eldest daughter of Roxy, aren't you?" Daphne nodded with a small smile. Her mother hated that nickname. "She was a nice girl. Too bad she married that prick of your father." Harry grinned. He already liked her. "I dearly hope you're coming more after your mother."
"Everybody told me so, especially my grandma." Daphne's voice told Harry that those comparisons hadn't been uttered as praise all the time.
"Agatha," Mathilda nodded. "How is the young lady faring?"
Harry's grin broadened. Only someone like Griselda Marchbanks would call Agatha a 'young lady' – or Matron Mathilda apparently.
"She's doing well. She wanted to help with the search like the rest of us, but she is occupied – training Lady Longbottom for her duel." Apparently Daphne assumed that someone like Matron Mathilda knew about the duel like every wizard and with between eight and hundred and eight.
"The one with former Headmaster Dumbledore?" Mathilda actually asked, her voice betraying a big measure of disappointment.
"The very one," Daphne nodded.
"You don't seem to like him very much," Harry interjected.
Matron Mathilda rounded towards him and frowned. "I'm not allowed to speak ill of him." After a little pause she continued. "He didn't take care of Hogwarts as he could have."
"We agree," Daphne said with a small bow of her head.
"To return to the initial question," Matron Mathilda's voice turned icily again. "Why do you want to know?"
.
The room that doesn't exist
"We are searching for something," Daphne started slowly. "We know that it is hidden in Hogwarts somewhere. We know the day it has been hidden here and we just found out that the culprit has used a memory charm on the picture of Barnabas the Barmy to hide his presence. We think that he has hidden that object in the room of requirement and had the idea that there should exist something like a basic room, something…" She hesitated.
"An empty room," Harry offered, "a room being there when nobody utters a wish."
"Yeah," Daphne nodded, "as he said."
"And who was this culprit?" Matron Mathilda asked, her eyes telling Harry that she already had a guess. What does she know about the matter?
"Tom Riddle," Harry responded, "also known as…"
"Voldemort." If Matron Mathilda had been angry before and Harry feeling uncomfortable, there was pure hate in her voice now, enough hate to make him shiver. She got silent for long minutes afterwards, staring blankly, her mind somewhere far away apparently.
"Leave," the oldest of her four elf guards muttered and his three companions left with barely a second of hesitation. "You too," he growled towards Dobby and Ciddy. Dobby blinked and Ciddy started to complain but obeyed as she noticed Daphne shaking her head. Moments later there were only four persons left in the corridor. The sole elf guard summoned a little chair for his matron and stepped aside. Waving his little hands, he created a circular wall around them, closing off the rest of the corridor and preventing the paintings from listening into their conversation. Even Daphne was baffled by this demonstration of magic. This house-elf was really tuned into Hogwarts. Until now she would have bet that only the headmaster was able to accomplish something like this.
"He is my eldest son," Mathilda answered the unspoken question with a low voice. "He'll be the next patron house-elf after my death." Daphne nodded, accepting the answer. Harry promised himself to ask her later about it. Or perhaps Hermione knew about this. She had learned much since her days of thinking about S.P.E.W.
"Many years ago," she started with a hoarse voice, her eyes still far away, "there was another patron of the Hogwarts house-elves. William was tall, strong, and so brave. He was the strongest house-elf I ever met, and he knew magic only a few of us can muster."
"Was he your husband?" Daphne asked with a soft voice. Harry watched the exchange in silence. This was women talk.
"Yes," Mathilda nodded, her eyes teary. "He was my husband for many years, he brought joy to my life and we had many children, grand-children and great grand-children together."
For a moment Harry wondered about the life expectancy of house-elves and, not for the first time, Mathilda answered the unspoken question. "House-elves can easily life for about two hundred years, if they serve a strong family – or a magical castle. The Patron and Matron of Hogwarts live even longer. We had been married for 164 years when he died."
Harry was stunned. He couldn't even imagine such a time frame, especially not how it would be losing your partner after all this time.
"How did he die?" Daphne asked. She didn't want to pry but assumed his death to be the reason for Mathilda's angry behaviour.
"The house-elves of Hogwarts know much about the castle, many secrets, and many things nobody else knows. There are hidden rooms and secret ways, veiled doors and puzzles. The teachers know many of them as well, as do some students."
"Like the Marauders? And the Weasley twins?" Daphne offered.
Mathilda nodded, for the first time a fleeting smile on her face. "Sometimes a student stumbles over one of the major secrets." She glanced towards Harry.
"Like Harry did with the Chamber of Secrets?"
"Yes," Mathilda agreed. "It happens from time to time. Only the Headmaster knows all secrets of Hogwarts – or nearly most at least. It depends on his wisdom, his intellect and his wish to explore, how much he learns about the castle. And he has to gain the trust of the castle and the house-elves."
Harry narrowed his eyes. It sounded like the castle had a sentience of its own. And the matter of 'gaining the house-elves' trust' was interesting. "Did Headmaster Dumbledore gain your trust?"
"Mostly, yes," Mathilda admitted, "but not completely. He was too ingrained into politics, spent too much time away and had never the fate of the castle and its inhabitants firstly on his mind."
Harry nodded. He agreed with the assessment and understood. For someone like Mathilda there had to be a Headmaster who was first and last Headmaster, not somewhere on rank two or seven of his priority list.
"There had always been inquisitive students at Hogwarts, some more than others. Many tried to find the hidden rooms and corridors on their own or looked for older maps and books. Others tried to pry knowledge from the house-elves, trick them into parting with our secrets. While most did it with sweet words, little presents and dirty tricks, one had no patience for this alley. He wanted to know – now. He wanted to learn everything, even things we aren't allowed to teach anybody, even knowledge only a few of us know, as even among my kind there are some that know far more than the rest."
"Someone wanted to learn William's secrets? And he used violence?" Daphne asked with a shaky voice. Mathilda nodded weakly and gulped. Her face was a mix of hurt and rage, and Harry expected her to break down or have a temper tantrum any moment now. Daphne saw it as well. She moved forward, knelt down beside the Matron and hugged her. Mathilda allowed it and hugged her back. For a while she appeared not to be two hundred years old but a very sad child.
"He tricked William into meeting him. He convinced a younger house-elf – my grandson Matty – to call William to an outwards meeting. We found him three days later. William had been tortured. He was gravely injured. Even Madam Pomfrey wasn't able to heal him and we didn't know about the Greek Healers. A week later he died." Daphne sobbed and hugged her more. "A month later my grandson Matty committed suicide. He couldn't live with the guilt of having led his grandfather to his death." Another sob, this time shared by Daphne and Mathilda.
Angry with herself, Mathilda sat back, pushed Daphne gently away and straightened her back. Her eyes started to glare with fury. "It was Tom Riddle. He wanted to know Hogwarts' secrets and he killed my William to learn them."
"He will pay," Harry promised. "We already beat him, incarcerated him, and we're working on disposing of him forever."
"However," Daphne explained, "we have to know if the item we're looking for is in this basic room. It is one of three items we have to destroy before Riddle can die – permanently."
Harry wondered if it was a good idea to be so blunt with the question, but apparently Mathilda liked candour. To his surprise she immediately answered. "Something is in there, yes, resting on the ward stone, protected by magic. Some kind of…" She frowned, thinking about how to describe the item.
Daphne pulled the replica from her pocked. "Something like this?"
Mathilda suspiciously eyed the replica for a moment before she gravely nodded. "That it is."
They found it.
.
A wee bit later
"I have to admit that I'm impressed." Headmaster Flitwick admitted with a shaky voice.
After her talk with Harry and Daphne, Matron Mathilda had agreed to teach Headmaster Flitwick how to enter the real room behind the room of requirement. "I trust him," she had explained very curtly. It was explanation enough really. Flitwick was not only able now to reach the room by himself but take others with him. Because of this they now stood in a big chamber, very empty and with only a massive boulder in the middle. Floor, walls and ceiling consisted of an unknown type of marble, dark blue-grey with silvery veins crisscrossing all over.
The boulder looked… magical. It was like four flames, one in the colour of each element, growing out of the ground, spiralling upwards and intertwining with each other. Four elements created something that fuelled the magic of this room. The whole chamber was brimming with elemental magic. On the top of the boulder rested a single object like a toy forgotten by a child.
"The Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw," someone whispered.
"And how do we get it?" Harry asked nobody in particular.
The question was reasonable. In imitation of the boulder, there was a cloud of energy shielding the diadem, four elements interwoven into a dangerous defence. Headmaster Flitwick had already tried to accio the diadem or to banish the shielding cloud. Both attempts resulted in dangerous backlashes.
"We could ask Albus," Filius Flitwick suggested with a face like chewing a lemon. He grimaced. "I feel his magic all over the place. At least the outer defences are his. There will be other defences under this elemental shield, I assume, defences created by Riddle."
Mathilda already had explained that Filius was the second headmaster to enter the chamber since Tom Riddle placed the object herein. Albus Dumbledore had been allowed to enter as well – without being trusted with the knowledge of how to enter on his own – to his endless frustration. Despite Mathilda's wish he didn't remove the object from this room that hadn't a place in here.
"So he knew," Harry fumed. "Another little secrets he didn't care to share."
"Apparently," Filius agreed. There was disappointment in his voice was no surprise.
"Since when did he know about this item?" Daphne asked Mathilda.
"I allowed him to enter after Riddle's return, at the end of your second year," Mathilda explained.
Harry turned a bit green, thinking about the day he had met Professor Quirrell, possessed by Voldemort's ghost; or the day he met him for the second time, a young Tom Riddle, in the chamber of secrets.
"He had known all the time," he whispered hoarsely.
"He certainly knew the Diadem for what it was," Daphne agreed, "especially after you brought him the destroyed diary and told him about Riddle's apparition."
"So," Headmaster Flitwick asked with no real enthusiasm. "Do we ask him?"
He knew, Harry mused, not really listening. Like Headmaster Flitwick he felt no surprise. He knew. We could have saved us this whole search. The Horcrux could have been destroyed months if not years ago. Dumbdork is a real ass.
"No," Neville answered instead, cold fury and determination in his voice. "We dismantle this on our own. I can feel the Earth magic. It isn't very strong."
Headmaster Flitwick raised a single eyebrow. He had another opinion on that one but he wasn't an earth mage.
"Dumbledore wasn't an elemental mage," Professor Snape interjected. He had been silent so far, watching the scenery with interest. "He only learned the basics as far as I know."
"He was good with water magic," Minerva objected.
Snape bowed his head in agreement. "He learned it from Grindelwald. Later he continued his water magic studies because of the black lake and its inhabitants – and to counter Voldemort's Fire Magic."
"We won't be so lucky as to watch the shield disintegrate after Lady Longbottom trounced his ass, I assume?" Harry asked hopefully.
"No," Filius Flitwick regretted. "The shield has been created by him, but it is fuelled by the warding stone. It will last as long as Hogwarts exists, if not cancelled by someone."
"Shit." Everybody agreed.
With a gentle move Neville swept Hermione-cat into his arms. "We need to work together then. We'll need you, Mione." The answering meow caused the adults around to grin broadly.
Harry nodded with a small frown on his forehead. "And we'll need Dumble's books about water magic." Not only for this, Harry mused, but also to prepare her for that Sudan stint later.
"I'll get them," Filius offered. "He won't need them anymore." His voice was grim and, not for the first time, Harry wondered what had changed to make the soft-spoken Headmaster this hateful towards his predecessor.
He wasn't the only one wondering this.
.
Somewhere in Southern Sudan at the same time
"Did it work?" Jerome asked, while sitting in their tent with his wife and pouring her a cup of mint tea.
Meryem put the letter down, accepted the cup with a graceful motion, and nodded slightly. "It worked exactly as expected."
"So her tomcat is a Kneazle now… and she is a cat?" Meryem nodded again, this time a playful smile on her lips. Her cat-side was still strong after all those years.
"And how long until she learns to change back?"
"As long as it takes," Meryem shrugged. "It's something she has to learn on her own. It was difficult enough to break through her logical barriers. I wasn't certain about that part, I admit, certain that she would succeed in getting her mind and heart in equilibrium."
"Her logic will fight against her in this," Jerome countered. "Confused as she will be, Hermione will certainly fall back to her proven side, to her knowledge and logical research."
Meryem grimaced. She knew her husband was right. It had been a snap decision to add the little extra to her figurine. She saw potential in the girl, potential to go beyond the constraints of her own mind. She certainly didn't want to hurt her. Jerome however spent more time with the girl than she. Perhaps she should trust him in this.
"I'll write her a letter." She complied with a little growl.
Jerome kissed her cheek. "I knew you would."
.
A/N
Next time we'll continue with the Horcrux and cat-Hermione.