A/N: Thanks for the support. This is the last update for the year, so I hope you all have a happy and safe holiday and I'll see you all in 2022.
The Slytherin Reformation
By Spectre4hire
15: There's a Place
"I hate her."
"You've never met her."
"Doesn't matter," Harry wouldn't let that minor detail deter him or his anger. He crumpled the latest letter he had received. It had been written by her. It came on pink parchment with an obnoxious perfume that only further rankled his stomach. "I hate her."
Harry and his friends were enjoying the first warm day of the year. They had found a nice spot by the Great Lake to relax and enjoy the weather without thinking about their upcoming classes for the week and the loads of homework that was to come with it. It was a rare thing for them to actually be free of homework, but they had accomplished it.
This wasn't going at all like he planned. Harry had thought he had found a way to save Lupin's job, and that hope only grew at the response it had received. He had gotten his friends to put petitions in each of the four houses' common rooms where they quickly filled up with signatures from first years to seventh years. Asking and wanting the school's Governing Board to reinstate Moony as their defense against the dark arts teacher. He then thought he could use Fudge too to see this through, but that was proving difficult with the unforeseen obstacle of Fudge's undersecretary, this Dolores Umbridge.
Every letter Harry had since written to the Minister at trying to secure his help had been sent back to him with an added note or letter from Umbridge politely informing him to cease and desist. Harry had no plans on doing that. He wasn't going to give up on Moony. He had been warned that this was an issue that Minister Fudge would be reluctant to get involved in since werewolf prejudices run deep, but after the feedback his petitions had gotten from the school, he was so sure that Fudge would see that there was real support and act on it. He didn't. Instead, the Minister of Magic was now ignoring Harry and setting his undersecretary with the task of keeping herself between him and the Minister.
Hermione, who had been the one to point out the flaw in Harry's argument about his newly formed hatred for this practical stranger, looked him over with a touch of disapproval. "I know she's made things difficult," She frowned at his scoff, but continued before Harry's outrage could gather momentum, "But she's just doing her job."
"I don't know," Neville spoke up. He was knee deep in the water. He had looked up from his examination of a fibrous stalk of a reed.
Harry knew better than to ask his friend what it was he was looking at or for. To him, it was all seaweed, but to say that out loud meant getting an invested Neville explaining what it all really was. So, he and his friends usually stayed silent and let him be, but his response made him speak up. "What do you mean, Nev?"
"My grandmother knows her. She doesn't like her."
"See," Harry turned back to Hermione.
She shook her head, refusing to give ground. "That doesn't mean you can just hate her."
Daphne and Tracey, who had remained quiet up to this point, were sitting back-to-back, leaning against one another near the shoreline of the Lake. They were close enough to dip their hands or feet in if they were inclined, but so far neither had done so. Tracey wiggled in her spot to better face the others. "My mum hates her."
"So does mine," Daphne sounded bored, before turning her eyes to Harry. "I know you're upset," she began, "But do we really need to talk about her here."
"Okay," he relented after a second or two, "You're right," her radiant smile made his stomach do a small flip. He crushed the letter and then banished it with a flick of his wand. Harry was pleased to note the obnoxiously flowery scent that had coated the letter disappeared too.
He moved to sit beside Daphne, who greeted him with a kiss to his cheek. He wrapped his arm around her and feeling her embrace made him realize how silly he was for not doing this a lot sooner.
Tracey rolled her eyes before turning to face the Lake. She then dipped her toes in the water and let out a happy sigh.
Hermione wasn't one to let an argument go especially if there was no determined victor, but Theodore's next words deflated her and her position.
"My father always spoke well of her," Theo smirked when he finished, clearly aware of the effect his father's endorsement would have on the subject.
Hermione was able to smile in the face of defeat and conceded. She took it in stride moving to sit next to Theo who was lounging in the shade of a nearby tree. "Fine," she admitted, "You can all hate her."
"Thanks for the permission, mum ," Tracey said sweetly, "I mean Hermione." She grinned at Hermione's annoyed look. She pressed on, unaffected, "You should just be glad she wasn't the one to replace Professor Lupin." She grimaced, "Because if even half of what my mum has said about her is true then she would've made an awful replacement."
"Don't give them ideas," Daphne scolded her friend.
"Professor Plum's alright," Theodore said, remarking on their replacement professor, who had made it clear on his first day that he wouldn't be returning in the fall. He was an old friend of Dumbledore's and had agreed to do this favor for him on the condition that it was to just finish out this term.
Tracey giggled, which she always did when their professor's name was brought up. "Just don't find yourself alone with him," She warned, "Especially if he's holding a candlestick."
Harry chuckled while Tracey and Hermione laughed. Neville and Theodore looked completely lost, oblivious to what their friends were referencing.
"Why would he be holding a candlestick?" Theo asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.
Hermione gently shushed him. "I'll explain later."
That placated Theo, but Harry was certain anything she said would've. Not that he was in a position to judge. A position, I'm not going to complain about, one which he was currently enjoying, with Daphne beside him.
"You know what we should do?"
"Oh no," Daphne groaned, seeming to know what her friend was thinking.
"We should go flying!" Tracey scanned her friends' faces to see none of them shared her enthusiasm for the idea. "We haven't flown in ages."
"You flew two days ago," Neville pointed out.
She met that honest observation by trying to splash him, but the water fell pitifully short from where Neville was wading in the Lake. "But it wasn't us all together."
Theodore frowned. "When do we fly together?"
"We don't," Hermione added, torn between amusement and ruefulness at Tracey's supposed plight.
"Harry," Tracey turned to him, "Don't you want to fly?"
"If we're being honest," Harry began, feeling the eyes of his friends turning to him, but especially his girlfriend, "Not really." His honesty was well rewarded by Daphne.
"Ugh," Tracey stuck out her tongue at him, and their brief display of affection. "We have a match soon." She tried a different approach.
"In a month," Harry didn't share his friend's opinion on the definition of soon.
"You can go without us, Trace," Daphne pointed out.
Tracey pouted. "It's not as fun." She held up her hands when she received several doubting looks at her answer. "Okay, you're right, I enjoy flying regardless of who I'm with," she sighed, a tad more dramatic than necessary, "but I do still enjoy it when it's just us."
Daphne blinked first. "Fine," Her one-word answer elicited a whoop from Tracey, but she put her finger up before her friend could further celebrate, "In an hour." Daphne suggested to the rest of them.
"Wait-what?" Harry was caught off guard by Daphne's sudden change of mind.
His reaction only amused her. "Despite her trying theatrics," Daphne smoothly went over Tracey's objective- HEY- " she's still my friend and I can endure some flying for her sake."
"You're the best."
"She is," Harry easily agreed with Tracey's sentiment. Daphne tried and failed to look indifferent to their praise, but the slight flush in her cheeks betrayed her.
"Why not, it could be fun," Neville shrugged, but his indifferent answer couldn't completely hide that he liked the idea. "Also, will give us time to see if Susan and Luna want to join."
Theo and Hermione voiced their agreement to the plan too with the latter adding, "But I don't want to be there all night again."
"That was only once," Tracey said, a sheepish look flickered across her face at Hermione's responding stare, "Okay, maybe a little more." Her good mood couldn't be dampened by that particular reminder, "Thanks," She told them, smiling brightly, "I appreciate it."
"You appreciate it so much that you won't talk about flying or quidditch for the next month?" Daphne challenged, a gleam in her blue eyes.
There it is, Harry realized, with a growing smile at seeing the reason behind Daphne's agreement to go flying.
Tracey didn't seem surprised by her friend's tactic. She stood up, pondering the offer, "A week," she countered.
Daphne rose to face her friend. "Three weeks."
"Two," Tracey held up two fingers as she said the word.
"Agreed."
Both girls were looking pleased with themselves, both believing that they had gotten the better end of the deal. They shook hands to seal the agreement.
"Just another day in Slytherin," Theo said dryly.
"This should be it," Dumbledore declared when they reached their destination.
Their destination was the seventh floor of the castle. They were standing in front of a rather unremarkable wall with no sign of a door or other means of entrance.
That morning the headmaster had sent Harry a brief note inviting him to his office before dinner. From there, the headmaster hadn't even offered Harry a chance for a lemon drop before setting off for this particular spot.
"Hmm," Dumbledore looked around the corridor with the usual twinkle in his eye. "I think I've been here before," He ran a hand through his beard, "but there was a door." He pointed to the wall where there was no door, "It was full of chamber pots."
"Chamber pots, sir?" Harry was able to smother the chuckle, but not the smile.
"Yes, chamber pots," Dumbledore nodded, but his attention was now on the wall in front of them. "When I spoke to the house elves, they mentioned this place." His hand was roaming over the stone of the wall. "They called it The Come and Go Room."
"And they think this is where Voldemort would've tried to hide the horcrux?"
"I did not ask them that particular question," Dumbledore looked over his shoulder at Harry, "But the house elves spoke of many past students and teachers, elves too, stumbling onto this room." He took a step back from the wall. "Remarkable," He said the word with absolute praise, "The magic is so faint, you'd think it was just part of the castle. Nothing extraordinary to be found." His wand was out now. "You were smart to suggest the house elves, Harry. A very clever solution to a problem few would turn to."
"Thank you, sir," Harry smiled, feeling a slight swell of pride in his chest at Dumbledore's kind words. "So how do we access the room?"
"One must walk past this section three times concentrating hard on what is needed."
"What do we need?" Harry took a step back, to allow the headmaster room to pace the section of the corridor. He nearly bumped into the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy which hung on the opposite side.
"I'll ask for it to reveal its hidden chamber," Dumbledore suggested and without waiting, he followed the instructions given to him.
Harry had been watching the headmaster, but his eyes turned at the sudden appearance of a door that shimmered into existence where there was once only a stone wall.
"Excellent," Dumbledore clapped his hands, "Are you ready, Harry?"
He was. He followed the headmaster's cue, who took out his wand before opening the door.
Before them, the room sprawled out far larger than Harry had ever imagined. It was the size of a large cathedral; he was certain this room seemed and felt as big as the entire castle. It wasn't just its size that was amazing, but its contents. It was filled with thousands of objects that littered the floor around them. Piles stacked so high they resembled hills, rising here and there in every direction Harry turned.
He saw broken chairs, burnt couches, shattered bookshelves, thousands and thousands of books, more books than the entire school's library. Maybe more books than the entire population of Scotland. He saw a catapult that looked like it belonged in their history of magic textbook, but here it rested in pristine condition within throwing distance of him and Dumbledore. There were chipped bottles, broken vials, filled jars of congealed potions, tonics, and other things that Harry could only guess at.
"Is that-"
"It is," Dumbledore had seen where Harry was pointing. "Dragon eggs."
"Unbelievable," Harry mumbled, walking past three piles of rusted swords, axes, and armor that rose twice as tall as him. When he turned the corner, he nearly cried out when he saw a tall shadow fall over him, but he was able to regain his senses before the panic took him to discern that he was looking at a stuffed troll. An enormous stuffed troll that made the one Harry and his friends faced in their first year look small.
"Let us leave, Harry."
He didn't object until they had left the room, "Sir, how are we supposed to find the horcrux in all that?"
"Yes, indeed," the problem that they faced seemed to amuse Dumbledore not annoy him. "There are ways to detect dark magical objects, but it will take time even with such assistance to comb through that room."
Harry didn't doubt that. They had only taken a few steps into that room and were overwhelmed with mounds of junk, and items and objects that were stacked and scattered throughout the room. It would likely be a challenge to just reach certain parts of it with all the debris that had built up over the centuries of the room being visited and used by the generations before them.
He felt a twitch of disappointment begin to settle over him. When they had set out for the night, he had hoped and even expected to end their trip with one less horcrux in the world, but now it appeared that they would need more time. Time to get what they needed to find the horcrux, and then time to go through the room to find it. He was trying to think how many trips they would need to make to this room and how long each trip would take, as well as what else they might need when it occurred to him. Need. The word struck him hard and brought his thoughts to a complete standstill. What we needed, remembering the headmaster's information about the room. We already know what we need.
"Sir, I have an idea," He wondered if it could really be that simple. He gestured to the space in front of the door that led to the Come and Go room. The room in which the Headmaster asked for, but he had a different need, and one he hoped the room could provide. He prayed he wasn't about to make a fool of himself.
The headmaster didn't question him. He merely smiled and stepped back.
Harry took a breath; I need to find Voldemort's horcrux. This was what he thought over and over again as he made the three rounds past the wall. A different door appeared, without waiting, he put his hand to the door handle, and opened it.
The room before him was no larger than a broom cupboard. He wanted to groan in defeat, because all he saw in front of him was a chipped cupboard. Until, adjusting to the dim light of the new room, he saw perched atop the cupboard was a bust of an ugly and withered looking warlock. On top of the bust was a dusty and well-worn wig and atop that was a tarnished tiara.
"Simplicity itself," he chuckled, "Well done, Harry," He then gestured to the bust on the cupboard. "Do you know what that is?"
"A Horcrux?" He hoped.
"Yes, but look."
Seeing where the headmaster was pointing, Harry noticed there was an engraving on the tiara. "With beyond measure is man's greatest treasure." He recognized those words at once, "It's Ravenclaw's diadem," He remembered reading about it, the magical tiara had the ability to bestow wisdom on any who wore it.
Dumbledore gave a somber nod. "I had hoped I was wrong. That he would have to find something else to use, but he found it." He sighed, "Stand back, Harry."
He did. It was done quickly. The horcrux didn't have parseltongue defenses and the basilisk fang that Dumbledore used, penetrated and destroyed the diadem in with a single blow.
The air was acrid. A black finger of smoke rose from the ruined diadem.
Harry kept his distance, while his attention shifted between the headmaster and the destroyed horcrux.
"Such an ignoble end to one of magic's greatest artifacts," He lamented, "and Tom would use it for his gain and his alone." The headmaster's wand glowed while he cast silent spells on the accursed magical object. "That is his legacy."
"Sir?" Harry asked respectfully, when he had the headmaster's attention he continued, "What will happen to him when all of them are destroyed?"
"A good question," Dumbledore stepped back from the come and go room, closing the door when he cleared it. In an instant the door disappeared from view leaving behind an ordinary stone wall. "They were his tethers to the mortal world. I believe when the last one is destroyed that he will be gone. Whatever shade of him that lingers now will slip into nothingness in an instant. And Tom Riddle will be dead."
"For good?"
"Yes," the headmaster nodded, "For good."
Harry smiled. There was just one more, he reminded himself, just one more and it's over.
"So, it is done?"
The Bloody Baron had been considerate enough to glide towards Harry from across the corridor instead of his usual just appearing. Harry was grateful for it.
"You knew?"
He smiled. It was not a pleasant smile. It was thin and sharp like a dagger's blade. It chilled Harry more than the usual cold that lingered in the ghost's presence. "I was there when it was hidden."
"Hidden?" Harry asked, "You mean in the castle?"
The metal chains jangled as the Baron hovered in front of Harry. "I mean I was there when she hid it, all those years ago."
"Who hid it?" Harry couldn't stop himself from asking. "What happened?" He had more questions he wanted to ask but restrained his burning curiosity. He knew this was a history that no one in the castle knew. The Bloody Baron wasn't the sharing sort, but the silent, intimidating sort. He haunted these halls for hundreds of years without no one knowing what had befallen him with such a grisly death that never failed to frighten the students. But no one was brave enough to ask, Harry thought, or respected enough to get an answer. He could only guess, but he did know that he and the Baron had a good relationship. His house ghost had helped him in the past, gave warnings, and offered advice in his visits.
For a long moment there was only silence save for the Baron's chains. They swayed and chimed against each other. "She told him where to find it," His voice seemed an eerie echo, a tone Harry hadn't heard before, but it sunk into his bones like icy nails. "He had charmed her when he was a student here."
"Voldemort?" Harry asked only after checking their corridor was still deserted. It was.
"Yes, Tom Riddle," The Baron confirmed, "The best student my house had seen in centuries." He drifted in front of Harry, like an unmoored ship, too reflective to be aware of his floating, Harry did his best to keep in front of him. "We've already spoken of him before, but what I did not tell you then because it is not our duty to meddle in your lives, I can tell you now that your ordeal with the diadem is over."
"What is it?" Harry perked up.
"I was here when the founders still walked these halls," The Baron revealed, "And when Rowena Ravenclaw lay dying, she tasked me to bring back her daughter, begging her to return before she died. They had had a falling out and she had stolen her mother's diadem and fled to Albania." The Baron's eyes stared at Harry like black pits. "Helena was her name, and I loved her. We were betrothed to be married." The silver bloodstains on the ghost's robes seemed to ripple, but Harry was certain it was just his imagination. "I went to Albania to bring her back, but she refused."
Harry stared at the bloodstains with new insight. His stomach gave a sick twist.
"I lost my temper and I killed her."
"You killed her?" Harry's question was nearly a silent squeak. Slipping out of his mouth before he could stop himself. The Baron had said he had loved her, but he killed her. Harry couldn't understand how you could do such a terrible thing to someone you profess to love.
The Baron read his reaction with a hard, weighing stare. "I did."
He let loose a breath. The Baron's terrifying silence had unnerved Harry and made him fear his curiosity had gone too far.
"In my rage I killed her, and in my despair, I killed myself," He revealed, his voice a harsh echo. "I used the same dagger and I have dwelled here ever since." One ghostly hand gripped one of the chains that covered his body. It made an almost strangled chime. "I carry these as my penance." His tone betrayed how little he thought of them, and how poorly they represented the great guilt he carried.
"Thank you," Harry said softly, "Thank you for telling me this." He dipped his head, thinking it couldn't hurt to show his respect. "I'm honored and I'm sorry."
"Do not apologize for faults that are not yours to carry," The Baron chided him, but there was no hardness in his rebuke.
There was one thing he didn't understand, nagging at him, like an insistent tug. "You said Voldemort charmed her," Harry remembered the Baron saying as much, but how did he find and speak to her? But he asked something else. "Does that mean she's here?"
"She is," The Baron's smile was a small sliver across his gaunt face, "But you know her as the Grey Lady."
"Albania?" Dumbledore was leaning forward in his seat. "He said Albania?"
"He did."
After Harry's conversation with the Bloody Baron he thought it was important to speak with the headmaster. His gut proved right given the headmaster's reaction throughout his retelling. Dumbledore had first been surprised by Harry's return, and had even suggested he come back another time, but he changed his mind when Harry told him that the Grey Lady was Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter. After being let in, Harry started from the beginning. He wasn't sure if Dumbledore had truly known the secret behind the Grey Lady's identity since the headmaster was so adept at concealing his thoughts and emotions. However, either his ignorance of her past and or Harry's sudden knowledge of it, had been enough to catch and now hold Dumbledore's full interest.
"Do you think he could tell us?" Dumbledore asked, there was a flickering, but intense gleam in his eyes. "The exact location in Albania?
"I think he could," Harry answered, unsure why Dumbledore was so insistent upon knowing it, especially since the diadem was no longer there.
A satisfying smile cut through Dumbledore's white beard. "Albania," he murmured, his hands clasped in front of him. "Remarkable," He let out a small chuckle as if the country was the punchline to an amusing joke. "Thank you for telling me this, Harry. You have unknowingly given me a precious piece that has long eluded me."
"What's that?"
"Where to find Voldemort."
A/N: Harry solving that little riddle/conundrum instead of Dumbledore was inspired by the Fellowship of the Ring when its the hobbits not Gandalf who realizes the riddle on how to open the doors of Durin that would lead into the Dwarven Kingdom of Moria.
Is it coincidence that the diadem was in Albania, and it was in Albania that Voldemort kept returning to? First after his defeat from baby Harry and again after Quirrell fails him. In canon it probably is, but in this story, it's not. I'm twisting/using it to serve a purpose and bring this story to a conclusion.
Dumbledore likely knew Voldemort was in Albania, but not where in the country. So now I'm tying the diadem's location with Tom's and that little nugget of info is just what they needed to narrow their search to successfully track him down.
Also forgive me for that little but blatant Clue reference. I needed to think up a professor's name for a replacement and couldn't help myself.
Not very thrilling/exciting, I know, but here we are towards the end of this boring tale.
Thanks for the support,
-Spectre4hire