CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The Secret of House Hufflepuff

Harry was whirled around, and found himself face to face with Professor Snape.

"Potter," the Potions master said disdainfully. "Somehow, this is not quite a surprise."

His instincts, which had not quite caught up with proceedings, were still lining up possible hexes to throw at his attacker. It was difficult to overcome the temptation of letting them get on with it. "Um... Professor! I thought you were-"

"Unaware of your juvenile attempts at stealthy pursuit? Hardly." He had extinguished his wand-light to creep up on Harry; he relit it now, and his dark eyes scanned the shadows. "No doubt it would be unreasonable to expect you to have restricted this foolishness to risking only your own life. Where are your fellow idiot Gryffindors?"

Harry was opening his mouth to answer - or, if he was honest, probably to babble some kind of justification for their presence - when a ragged scream ripped the air. It cut off with unpleasant abruptness. "That was Hermione," he said, heart hammering inside his ribcage.

Snape was already moving, and Harry chased after him. What had happened? Where was Ron? "Ron!" he yelled. He was pulled to a halt as a bony hand clamped suddenly over his mouth.

"Thank you, Potter, for carefully eliminating any chance of the element of surprise," Snape said irritably. "Perhaps you could at least endeavour not to announce my presence to the world while you're at it?" He had released his grip and stalked on before Harry could fight down his angry blush and find a retort to respond with.

"Harry?" Ron's voice was faint and high with anxiety. Harry raised his wand.

"Reperio Ron Weasley!" The cloud of sparks that shot out of the end pointed somewhere off to his left. He ran after the fast-moving Snape, no longer stopping to free his robes when they got tangled but simply letting the fabric rip. He could see a moving glow of light through the branches, but he couldn't make out much else.

"Ron!" Harry burst through to his friend's side, and almost tripped over Hermione. She was slumped on the ground, unmoving, and for a moment his heart stopped.

"Get behind the shield, Harry!" Ron yelled urgently, grabbing his sleeve. He was confused, looking back towards Snape, but then the air beside him exploded into multicoloured sparks, and he realised Ron had cast an Invisible Wall Charm. But who was attacking them?

"Hermione?" he panted.

"I don't know what he hit her with. She's breathing, but I can't-" Ron broke off as another spell hit his shield in a stream of blue lightning, and raised his wand to reinforce it. "Caecus Murus!"

"Enervate!" Harry's hopes that Hermione's condition was nothing worse than Stunned were dashed as the spell failed to rouse her. Despite Ron's reassurance he had to check for himself, and knelt to fumble for a pulse beneath her tangle of hair. Her skin was too warm to the touch, as if she was feverish, and she didn't respond at all to the pressure against her neck. Her pulse seemed to him to be light and too fast, but there wasn't time to check with any accuracy.

"Capite Obvoluto!" Harry flinched and whirled towards the voice from his side, then realised it was Snape.

Ron seemed to accept their hated teacher's presence with hardly a blink. "Sir, Hermione's been hit with an unknown spell. It's a Death Eater."

As the glow of spells momentarily cleared, Harry glimpsed a slight figure ducking into a side path for cover. "A student?"

"Undoubtedly," said Snape. "Obnixio!" He reinforced Ron's failing shield with a spell-resisting charm of his own.

Harry dove past Ron to where the Wall Charm ended, and took a shot at the junior Death Eater. "Malleus!"

"Resiliatem!" The Death Eater bounced his own Hammer Hex back towards him, forcing him to take a nose-dive. As he glanced up, he caught a strange glint of moonlight off their attacker's head, and realised he was wearing some kind of helmet.

The Ravenclaw item!

"Exossario!" Harry barely had the presence of mind to duck as another curse shot his way. Snape's bony hand roughly hauled him back into the protection of Ron's shield.

"He's got the Ravenclaw item," Harry blurted out.

"Yes, thank you, Potter, a helpful dose of the obvious there."

"Ahh!" Ron yelled in alarm as something struck the centre of his Wall Charm and it detonated completely.

"Caecus Murus!" Harry quickly replaced it. They were left trapped in one space by their own shield, but what else could they do? They couldn't just leave Hermione lying there.

"It won't last. He's figured out how to smash through them now," Ron warned.

"We'll have to take a chance and rush him."

"Potter!"

Harry ignored Snape's enraged shout as he leapt out of the protected area and charged towards their enemy. "Edolimacis!" He fired wildly and continued running in a half crouch. A hex whizzed past his head, and he heard somebody grunt behind him.

He glimpsed the Death Eater boy lurking in the shadows. Definitely a boy, smaller than Harry. So, not Malfoy - not Ferus, either. Who?

"Crematum!"

Harry hit the ground as a curse sizzled overhead, causing his skin to instantly blister. He stayed down and pointed his wand at the Death Eater's legs. "Impedire!"

Fast-growing roots shot out of the ground and tangled around his enemy's feet, tripping him. Harry leapt forward, and wrenched at the strange, organic-looking helmet that covered his head. For a moment, it seemed as if the only way to get it off would be to pull the entire head off with it - and then it came free with a pop.

Leaving him staring into the face of Tiberius Dolorus.

Harry was so startled at finding his enemy revealed as a skinny little Ravenclaw fifth-year that he almost didn't roll aside in time to avoid the curse that was hurled his way. "Secarelingua!"

The junior Death Eater wasn't using Unforgiveables - perhaps was not yet strong enough to cast them - but Harry doubted very much that any of the hexes being hurled his way were covered in the Hogwarts curriculum. He shot off a quick, badly aimed "Stupefy!" and scrambled back towards the others with the helmet. Ron grabbed him by the arm and hauled him back behind the magical shield, which he must have reinforced while Harry and Dolorus were duelling.

"Did you see who it is?" Ron asked urgently.

"It's Tiberius Dolorus! He's a Ravenclaw," Harry blurted in disbelief. That clash on the train - the way Dolorus had been so scarily intense in his hatred of Ferus and his gang... he was reminded suddenly of Barty Crouch in his Mad-Eye Moody guise. The one thing true fanatics seemed to hate even more than their enemies were members of their own side who had defected or disappointed.

Which meant he'd been wrong all along. He'd thought Maynard Ferus's scheming to wrest control of the Slytherins from Malfoy was a power play to set himself up as top man with the Death Eaters. But if that was true, Dolorus wouldn't have been out to get him... And that meant Ferus had to be fighting against Voldemort, not for him. He and his little band of faithful fifth-years were trying to use the Malfoy family's fall from grace to rescue house Slytherin from the Death Eaters.

"Exciting as it is to sit here and listen to you discuss your prejudices, I think there are more pressing things to be getting along with, Potter."

Snape's words lacked their usual venomous bite thanks to the strain in his voice. Harry glanced at him, and paled when he saw the state of his lower leg. He didn't know what hex had caused the damage, but it looked far worse than when Fluffy the three-headed dog had mauled it.

"Professor?" he said uncertainly.

Snape gritted his unpleasant teeth. "Thanks to your stupid yet wholly predictable need to leap into action without looking, I am no longer able to walk." He pulled the Gryffindor shield off his arm, and tossed it to the ground near Harry's feet. "Well, go on, Potter. Since you feel obliged to engineer your own opportunities for Gryffindor heroics, the least you can do is get on with it."

Harry slowly bent down and picked up the shield. "You want me to...?"

"Don't be dense, Mr. Potter, I see enough of that vapid expression when assessing your Potions knowledge in class. I cannot walk, Miss Granger remains unconscious, and Mr. Weasley is, remarkably enough, currently maintaining a passable level of defensive shielding. Therefore, ill as the responsibility suits you, you appear to be the only one available to complete the task at hand."

He handed across the Hufflepuff badger, which Harry took hesitantly. Whatever Snape's opinion of his usefulness, he knew that running off in the middle of a pitched battle would leave the others in a precarious position. With Ron pouring everything he had into blocking curses, Snape badly bleeding and unable to move, and Hermione nothing but a - possibly severely injured - target, what chance did they have of overpowering a fanatical Death Eater shooting to maim? "What about Hermione? I should-"

"Snape's right." Ron's words were blunt and unexpected, like a short sharp slap or a dash of cold water. He leaned out past the hedge and shot another Stunner into the darkness before continuing. "This might be the only chance we get to end the Curse, and you're the only one who can do it. We'll protect Hermione if we can. Go."

That got him moving where no amount of berating from Snape would have, and Harry pulled on the helmet he'd taken from Dolorus. The shape of the world around him became abruptly visible, although everything was tinted blue by the visor. The path he had to take was also suddenly clear, a bright dotted line against the background. "Whoa."

"You know where you're going?" asked Ron.

Harry nodded, and was made slightly dizzy by the way the image in the visor flickered in response to the movement. He would have made some sort of comparison to Muggle night-vision goggles, but Hermione was the only one who would have got the reference. And she still hadn't stirred-

"Then go." Ron pointed his wand into the darkness. "Fulgeo!"

The magic visor cut out the flare before Harry even had the chance to be dazzled; no one else would be so lucky. He raised the Gryffindor shield over his head, and ran for it.

It was easy to navigate the ins and outs of the maze now that he had the visor. The pathways between the hedges were clearly drawn instead of shadow on shadow, and even seemed to be wider. Twice Thaumentors swooped overhead, but though he held the shield up they showed no interest in him, obviously headed for the more tempting lure of a magical firefight. Harry fervently hoped that the others were still okay.

Even Snape.

Harry soon lost track of how long he'd been running for. He was fairly sure the maze was shifting and reshaping itself around him. It wasn't until the dotted line in his visor became a flashing light that he realised he'd entered a clearing. For all that, logically, he knew the hedges actually formed a ring around the school, he was sure that this was in some symbolic way the centre of the maze.

He pulled off the Ravenclaw helmet, and slowly breathed out. Okay. The end of the maze. Try not to think too much about the Triwizard Tournament...

What was he supposed to do? It was just a perfectly circular clearing. No Portkey to grasp, thankfully, but nothing else obvious to do and no instructions either.

Something squirmed in the inner pocket of his robes, and he remembered the final item. He released the badger figurine and held it in his open palm for a moment.

Hufflepuff, Harry thought. Of course, it would be the Hufflepuff item that ended the maze. Durand's puzzle had been invented to force the solver to cooperate with others - and Helga Hufflepuff had been the only one to found her house on those principles. Bravery, scholarship, cunning and ambition... they were all individual traits. Helga had been the one who required loyalty, a group trait; just as she had wanted her house to accept everybody, not just somebody's narrow idea of the best and brightest. Building a house that was strong when it came together, instead of just picking those who were strong individually and expecting them to come together.

No wonder everybody had always thought Hufflepuffs were a load of old duffers. People looked at the individuals and thought they weren't very impressive, when they should have been looking at how the whole house came together. While the other Founders had each carefully taken their pick of the precious gems and hoarded their treasure, Helga had taken the boring old sturdy bricks... and built a castle out of them.

The badger butted his fingers insistently. He took the hint, and placed it down on the ground. It immediately disappeared beneath the earth, burrowing at great speed. Harry ran backwards as the entire surface of the clearing began to shake.

Please, not a Portkey. Just don't let it be another Portkey...

The earth before him suddenly split open, and golden light spilled out. It formed a shimmering archway, and from the centre of the magic doorway emerged the tall figure of a wizard.

"Welcome, Puzzle-Solver," he said with a smile. "I am Durand Adroganter." There was nothing remotely imposing about him, not even in the twinkly-eyed Dumbledore fashion. He reminded Harry rather strongly of Arthur Weasley, right down to the slightly frayed robes, although his hair was mousy brown instead of Weasley red.

"Are you... a ghost?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"A memory," he corrected. "Preserved in this place by an ancient magic from the book of Slytherin."

Harry shivered despite himself. That book... had the teenage Tom Riddle read it, and learned its secrets? Was that how he had come to make the diary that had nearly been the death of Ginny four years ago? What else was hidden in it?

"I created this puzzle for the sake of my brother, and others like him," Durand continued. "Again and again, the lessons of history are learned and lost. The houses must work together, if they are to work at all."

"You were a Hufflepuff, weren't you?" he said, remembering his revelation. Durand chuckled.

"I was indeed. The fourth pillar, the one that is so often overlooked because the others have already defined the square. The one without which there would be no balance. My brother was a good man, very ambitious - and make no mistake, ambition is a grand quality, a quality that lifts men up and allows them to dream of worlds that others do not dare to contemplate. But ambition only for the self is poisonous, just as bravery is nothing if there is no one to be brave for, and knowledge is worth little if no one can ever share it. We must learn to cooperate if we are to get anywhere in this life."

"So that's what this was about? A team-building exercise?" Harry thought he could be forgiven for the way his voice was rising indignantly.

"Of course!" said the facsimile of Durand cheerfully.

"We could have been trapped inside forever!"

Durand chuckled and shook his head. "Oh dear, oh dear. You are like Bertram, you know. Always expecting the worst. I intended all along to lift the curse at the end if he failed to resolve it. Just as, no doubt, whoever invoked it this time intended also. The journey is what matters, not the final result!"

The resemblance to Arthur Weasley was growing. He was definitely put in mind of the kind of cheerful, good-natured recklessness that made Arthur think it was a good idea to do things like experiment with Muggle stitches when he was seriously wounded.

"It never occurred to you that anybody might... use the enchantment for their own purposes?" he suggested, rather sharply.

Durand gave him an annoyingly tolerant smile. "You're a Slytherin, aren't you?" he said knowingly.

"No!" Harry said hotly. "I'm a Gryffindor."

"Ah, well, much the same, much the same. Always looking for an enemy. I refuse to believe that anybody could ever undertake sufficient research into the histories of this school to find this spell, and not learn enough from what they uncovered to consider such petty foolishness a terrible mistake!"

Harry blinked for a moment. He shot an uneasy look over his shoulder, remembering his friends were fighting - quite possibly dying - while he was wasting time here. "Listen, this is all very interesting, but can you lift the curse now? Er, please," he added as an afterthought.

"It is already lifting," Durand said calmly. "By Midsummer, the forest of thorns will be gone." He beckoned Harry towards the doorway. "Now, come with me to the heart of the castle. I have much to show you of its secrets-"

"It's done? The curse is lifted?" Harry interrupted.

"It will lift itself. Now, step through the doorway. You have proved yourself true to the spirit of the four houses, but there are magics in this place far stronger than any you have yet encountered. Come with me, and I will show you the great secrets of Hogwarts."

He took a step forward, but glanced hesitantly back towards where he guessed his friends were. "Er, can this wait until...?"

"The magic that holds my memory here will not last long," Durand cautioned. "If you are to come, you must do so now."

Harry swallowed. Going back to help his friends... versus the prospect of some powerful magic that might well help them in the struggle against Voldemort. He'd sworn that this year he would think before he acted - but what was the right decision here? Risk letting Hermione, Ron and Snape get hurt or killed for what might turn out to be a glorified tour of Hogwarts? Or go running back only to find they were fine, and he'd thrown away his only chance at a weapon that could destroy Voldemort?

Running after Sirius had been the wrong decision. Much as he hated it, he had to think like the Boy Who Lived, the only one the prophecy said could defeat Voldemort. He had to think with his head, hope that his friends - and Snape - would be all right, and go through the doorway with Durand.

He stepped forward.

But before he could pass through the doorway, the air was split by a nightmarish, almost inhuman scream that went on and on and on.