Hello. Here's another chapter. There may not be another chapter for a few weeks after this; it depends on how much time I have to write. But the story is coming to an end so there's only a few chapters left.

Please enjoy!

Walking Free

The Room of Hidden Things

While snow flittered through the grounds of Hogwarts and the students sat shivering at their desks, all wrapped up in scarves and shrouded in warming charms, three men made their way down the long corridors of the castle, climbed staircase after staircase and, two of them in particular, argued about which way was the correct direction on numerous occasions. Finally, when they reached the seventh floor and were standing in the middle to the hall-way they had been looking for, all three of them stared up at the huge stretch of stone before them.

'Well then, Potter, this better be the right place.' Snape grumbled as he scoffed at the tapestry that depicted Barnabas the Barmy attempting to teach trolls Ballet. For some reason it reminded him of Sirius Black. It just seemed like something the insane man would have tried to do; if only to enrage and alienate himself from his family further. 'I'm not traipsing after you around this blasted school all day. I was starting to think you had got yourself lost.'

Harry glared at Snape, his hands curled in annoyance. 'Yes, this is it. Isn't it, Professor?'

The elderly man nodded; even thought he knew it was a rhetorical question asked to deliberately irk his colleague. 'Certainly is, my boy.'

'Very well then.' Snape's lips curved downwards in distaste. 'Would you like to do the honors, Potter?' he drawled.

'If you insist.' Harry replied with a grim smile.

'Remember Harry,' the headmaster warned softly as he held the Sword of Gryffindor at his side, 'you must be very specific.'

The brunette nodded as he thought about what it was he needed to ask for. He passed the two professors and began pacing by the wall, his request in mind, Harry purposefully trampled across Snape's robe which had billowed out in front of him. He heard the man's disgusted grunt but wasn't prepared for the material to be pulled out from beneath him; the surprised causing him to trip and stumble. He shot a look over his shoulder to see a smug looking Snape, brushing the non existent dirt off of his black robes.

Regaining his balance, Harry closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. As much as he loved to aggravate Snape, he knew that he must put all tomfoolery aside and focus on what he was required to do. As he paced back a forth, past the great wall three times, he repeated the chant in his head.

'I need the place where everything is hidden.'

As he walked, Harry kept his eyes straight ahead, not wanting to be distracted. Once he had walked passed the wall three times he stepped back to watch the stone transform. For a few seconds he was sure nothing was going to happen, wondering if he had miscounted his paces. Just as he was about to try again he realised that the wall ahead of him had begun to change. From the grey stone came a small wooden door which grew taller and wider until it resembled the grand entrance that Harry remembered from his fifth year.

When the hallway was once again still Harry made for the door handle. While his fingers quivered with adrenaline, he pushed down and allowed the oak door to swing gently open, just wide enough for him to slip through. Dumbledore followed soon after but Snape seemed unsure and held back a moment.

'Come now, Severus. We need all three of us to find the Diadem.' Snape's tight demeanor relaxed a little and he gave the elderly man a nod as he held open the door for him.

The room before him was larger than he had imagined. The ceiling, he was sure, reached higher than the castle's tallest towers. Looking up he noticed that the roof was made up of huge mirrors which reflected the mass of furniture and hidden objects that had been left in the room over the years. All around the Potions master were piles and mountains of lost items; chairs, tables, broken and damaged furniture, perhaps hidden to hide mishandled magic, thousands of books, many battered, probably banned, graffitied or stolen. Along two of the walls were shelves lined with chipped bottles or congealed potions and what appeared to be dragon eggshells. As he wandered further into the room he noticed armor and weapons leaning against the shelves; several rusting swords and a heavy bloodstained axe.

Severus frowned at the thought of having to search through all this rubbish in order to find the Diadem. 'Why couldn't it have been that gigantic stuffed troll over there?' he thought sourly. He had noticed the hideous thing almost as soon as he entered the room and wasn't too surprised as to why someone would want to hide it.

'There are many rows.' Dumbledore's voice echoed around the room. 'I suggest we take one each and then we will each then check the row the two others have been down, just to be sure we haven't missed it. But if you find it, call out.'

The other two men nodded their agreement and they each stood at the end of separate rows. Trouble was, in some places the heaps of hidden objects reached almost to the ceiling which meant that the Diadem could easily be at the very top and out of reach.

Harry began wandering down one of the long, narrow alleyways that twisted and curved on endlessly. He tried not to think about how long it was going to take them or just how unlikely they were to find the Diadem. There was just so much stuff packed into the room; tall piles of obscure objects teetering, threatening to fall at any moment.

Almost as soon as he had entered the room, Harry's scar had begun to tingle uncomfortably. It prickled and caused his forehead and back to perspire. He had once tried to explain to his friends what it felt like but had been unable to describe the experience. The only thing he could convey to them was that it was unpleasant but could vary from a slow burning irritation to a blinding pain like nothing he was sure anyone had ever experienced. He remembered during the last task of the Triwizard Tournament during his forth year, when he had come face to face with Voldemort and the man had touched his scar. The feeling was unreal and he could still feel the excruciating pain that ripped through his flesh when they made direct contact. He had quickly learnt over the years that the closer the two wizards were, the worse the stinging in his head became; but he was unsure as to why his scar had begun to irritate him once they had opened the doors to the room of requirement. He hoped that it was simply because the Horcrux was near, but he couldn't help the panic that overcame him momentarily at the thought of the man being in the room with them, or that he had figured out what they were doing and had become enraged.

Although he felt a little uncomfortable doing so, Harry tried to put himself in Tom Riddle's shoes; tried to imagine where the young Dark Lord would want to hid his precious Horcrux. Harry figured that he would want to hide where someone would be unlikely to see it at first glance, therefore reducing the chance of anyone finding it. However, Voldemort was a very clever man and might have possibly left it out in clear sigh, to fool people. Either way, Harry was certain that it wasn't going to be easy and prepared himself for a long search. He stopped after every step to check every surface, every box, open all cupboards, draws, desks, tins and crouch down to peer under tables and dressers incase the Diadem had been shoved underneath. He refused to let himself move on until he was sure the Diadem could not possibly be hidden in that section. It was tedious and he had to stop from searching halfheartedly once he became tired and his back sore from lifting heaving objects and clambering on the floor.

Part way down his second isle Harry came across a large cabinet shrouded with a large sheet which he hurriedly threw to the side. Opening the door he stuck his head within. Feeling a little deflated he shut the door but left the dusty sheet on the floor by the cabinet's feet. When he came to the end of the isle Harry stretched his arms to the ceiling, sighing when his back clicked and his shoulders popped. Just as he was about to start up his third row he noticed Dumbledore standing wearily at the end of his own row some fifty feet from him. The old man looked frustrated but with only a moment's pause set off again, his eyes wide in determined search.

Snape also appeared, his face clouded in annoyance. When he spotted Harry watching him, the Professor raised a slender eyebrow in question. Giving a weak smile despite his dislike for the man, Harry began on his third row. Once he had completely checked that isle, the three men would have search only five rows in total. God only knew how many they had left to cover but Harry guessed, judging by the size of the room that there could be no more than ten; however, the room could be very deceiving. For all he knew they had barely scratched the surface of their search.

As he had done twice already, Harry started his thorough search through all the abandoned possessions on either side of his person. When he was almost at the end of the isle he stopped and threw back his head, knocking into a book shelf, laden with heavy tomes and scruffy texts. The piece of furniture must have been missing a leg as it swayed, casting a few smaller novels off its shelves and into the back of Harry's head. A thought struck him as he looked down at the fallen book by his shoe clad feet. He had passed numerous book shelves on his way but had barely given them a second glance. He had assumed that nothing the size of tiara could fit behind one of the books without obviously showing that it was hiding something. In a serge of excitement Harry grabbed as many books as possible and threw them to the ground. He tore at all four shelves, ripping the paper to shreds in the process. When he found nothing hidden by the third shelf Harry became frantic and cleared the bottom shelf in one foul swoop, desperate to find the Diadem. A strangled scream of frustration ruptured within him and he crouched to the floor, his head in his hands as he pulled at his hair.

'Damn it!' he cursed. It was becoming too much. His scar was stinging and gave him a terrible head ache. He was tired, fed up, and wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep for a week. Dragging himself up, he glanced at his watch. By the time he had entered Dumbledore's office and spoken with the headmaster it was already nine o'clock which meant that the three men had been marching up and down the seemingly infinite alleyways of the blasted room for over two hours. He wondered if either professor had somewhere else they needed to be; possibly a meeting for Dumbledore or a lesson for Snape. He told himself he must remember to thank the two men for taking time out their busy schedules to help him in what seemed a redundant venture. Then again one of them had kept secrets from him for years, failed to help him when he needed him the most and had effectively raised him to be murdered, and the other had wanted him dead from the moment he was born; or at least severally maimed.

Leaning against the shelves, Harry took a moment to relax and calm himself down. He knew that if he continued on in this manner he would never find the Horcrux. Once he had taken a few calming breaths he looked around himself and finally took in what it was he was actually seeing. For the last couple of hours he had been dead set on finding the Diadem and hadn't given much though to the items he tossed aside as he riffled through draws and hidden cupboards. Now that he was taking the time to actually look he found himself amazed by it all. The huge walls of varied objects, some more unusual than others, seemed to create a gigantic city, its streets twisting and turning, the buildings tall and crooked. He couldn't quite imagine how many years it must have taken for such a large volume of stuff as this to accumulate in the room. Just looking around where he stood, the items ranged from basic and everyday to like nothing he had ever seen before. The books, for example, that lay scattered on the floor; used by most people in the world practically everyday, and the weird bust of an ugly warlock wearing a wig. They were on different ends of the spectrum.

As he stretched his leg over the books something caught his eye. Finding his balance he turned back to the bust, kicking a few paperbacks out of the way so he could get a better look. When he saw what he thought he saw Harry held his breath, not wanting to get his hopes up. With a slightly nervous but excited voice he called out;

'I think I've found it.'

Severus took the middle row and set about checking the right side, then the left, allowing for optimum chance of spotting the Horcrux. The trouble was he didn't know entirely what it was he was looking for. All he knew was that he was searching for a Diadem. He had no clue as to its decoration or size. For all he knew there could be a whole cabinet full of tiaras. As he side stepped along his row, eyes fixed firmly on the wall of rubbish in front of him, he noted even more useless trash that had been left to gather dust inside the secretive room. There were items he was sure must have been there for hundreds of years, many things he failed to recognize as they were invented or in use in the Wizarding World before he was born. Others he could identify; fanged Frisbees, flying catapults, hats, jewels, and cloaks.

Although he tried to concentrate, Severus couldn't help ponder over what he had been told only hours earlier. To say he had been shocked to hear of Voldemort's Horcruxes was an understatement. He had never even thought it a possibility that the Dark Lord might have created Horcruxes or that Dumbledore would have kept such vital information from him for so long. While feeling betrayed by the elderly man, Severus also felt shame for not having figured it out sooner. He had read about Horcruxes before, had studied them on his own when he was still in school in fact, but he had never looked too deeply into the dark magic that created a Horcrux. It had intrigued him, as it would anyone. He had wanted to understand how it worked, how a person could split their own soul and put the other half in an inanimate object. However, the method used to do such a thing had put the young Severus off the idea of furthering his knowledge of that piece of magic. He hadn't wanted to think about what type of person would do such a thing to themselves, killing innocent people in the process. But now, it all made sense. If there was only one person in the world mad enough to do something that horrific, who else could it be other than Lord Voldemort; a man who killed his own father simple because he was a muggle.

When he reached the end of his row he heard a muffled scratching sound followed by a rough squeak. Turning around he peered closer to a table that had been covered with a large sheet. The shape of the item on the table was hard to make out and with caution, Severus snatched the sheet away, his wand held tightly in his other hand. He couldn't help the slight sigh of relief that passed his lips as he stared down at a record turntable that skipped every few turns. Discarding the sheet, he began making his way back up his row, checking up and down with each step.

He wasn't too pleased that Dumbledore had volunteered him to help but he supposed that however tedious this was going to be, it couldn't be worse then teaching a class of eleven year old Hufflepuffs. The time seemed to drag on Severus became impatient when he reached the end of his second isle and had seen nothing even resembling a tiara. He was about to start up the row that Potter had just finished, once again, when he noticed the boy watching him. He raised his eyebrow, wondering why the boy was looking at him with such a moronic expression on his face. 'He looks just like his stupid father.' He scowled at the thought of the bully but was taken aback when the boy smiled at him, his eyes, his mother's beautiful eyes, creased with exhaustion and what he could only imagine to be fear. Before the Potions master could think more of it, the boy disappeared down the next row. Severus did the same, hoping that one of them would find it sometime soon.

He didn't realise just how soon that was going to be. After only another half an hour or so, Potter's voice called out through the room.

'I think I've found it.'

The three men stared up in awe. Each had their mouths open slightly, unable to form words as they gazed at the beautiful headpiece, its jewels glistening in the light that poured over the room from the high windows. The metal frame was slightly discolored and it appeared incredibly delicate; almost too much so to hold such a powerful piece of dark magic.

'It's…' Snape began.

'Amazing?' Dumbledore filled in with a sad smile.

Snape nodded, his eyes glazed over. He couldn't believe it. This was it? A Horcrux? 'One of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes?' he thought as he gaped at the stone bust of an old man wearing a wig and a tiara. It seemed surreal to him that this small object, such an ordinary object at that, could hold a part of a human soul.

'Are we sure this is it?' Snape asked, shaking himself from his moment of lapsed concentration.

'Well if the pain in my head is anything to go by, I'd say yes.' Harry laughed but there was no humor in his voice. He too was looking up at the Diadem, his eyes wide in wonder. He seemed entranced by it; Snape and Dumbledore casting him odd and concerned looks.

Harry didn't question the feelings that were rising inside of him. He felt a powerful connection with the Diadem, something pulling them together. All thought of its destruction had slipped away and was replaced with a sense of protection; the need to keep the Horcrux trapped within the tiara safe and alive. He reached up to remove it from the bust but a hand on his arm stopped him.

Looking away, the connection dwindled slightly, Harry's sense coming back to him as he stared into Dumbledore's eyes. 'Don't touch it.' he said quietly. Harry's eyes twitched and flickered in his skull. His neck followed suit, cricking to the side, his spine popping in protest. The headmaster's hold on the boy loosened when Harry's eyes flashed red, the pupils dilating.

Then elderly man released Harry's arm and reached behind him, shoving the Potions master out of Harry's view. The sudden movement woke Harry from his trance and he frowned, confused, at the two men. Snape also looked a little disgruntled but seemed to understand the reason for Dumbledore's actions. The headmaster then levitated the Horcrux down onto the floor, a few feet from Harry. Passing the sword over to the boy, Dumbledore waited for him to take it. Harry complied but with a look of uncertainty on his face. As Harry approached the Horcrux that sat on the cold stone floor, the two professors took a step back, not exactly certain as to what was about to happen.

Harry twirled the handle of the sword of Gryffindor in his hand. The sword was reasonably heavy, enough so to provide plenty power to the swing. He remembered when he was younger and had to battle the Basilisk, using the sword to kill the humongous creature, and had struggled to lift it. But now it was so simple; all he had to do was swing and the Horcrux would be dead, leaving just Nagini and himself. However, standing above the Diadem, holding the sword in one hand, Harry found himself unable to move. He wanted to destroy it, needed to…but a part of him, courtesy of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, was desperate to stop him. Harry's need to destroy and protect were fighting against each other but luckily his ability to overpower the part of Voldemort's soul inside of him was stronger than the soul itself.

With the pain in his head accelerating and his mind overshadowing the parasitic soul within him Harry raised the sword, bringing his other arm up to support and apply a greater force, he brought the cool metal of the weapon upon the delicate structure of the Diadem. Almost as soon as the two metals made contact the sword was repelled by the Diadem, throwing Harry backwards, into the two men behind him. A bloodcurdling scream exploded from the headpiece as the Horcrux died, black smoke swirling into the air, fading as it reached above their heads. Once all the smoke had vanished and the screaming had silenced, the room became still.

The three men picked themselves up, Snape helping Dumbledore to stand. Harry made to get a better view of the diadem when he cried out, his hand flying to his head. He fell against a table, his legs giving out from under him. He collapsed to the floor, sweat breaking out all over his face, his body writhing in pain.

Dumbledore watched in horror as the memory from Harry's fifth year flooded back to him; the boy's eyes a deep red, his lips pulled back in a snarl. Harry's eyes once again changed from green to red and back again, each time staying red for a little longer until they were held as a pool of blood, almost swallowed whole by the black pupils that appeared almost animal like. Harry had fought against it, but like last time, he was too weak to defend his mind against that of the Dark Lord.

Despite all effort and using all the energy he had to fend off Voldemort, the man's magic was far too much to contend with, especially when he was this angry. Harry felt his whole body being taken over by another being, his mind being compressed to make room for another. He screamed out as Voldemort's thoughts strangled his own, reducing his ability to fight against the intrusion. However, while he was struggling against the man, Harry was also able to see and feel everything Voldemort could.

He was filled with anger, more anger than he could ever possibly imagine. But it was more than anger. It was fear, shock, sadness, and pain. Voldemort could not even comprehend what had just happened. He had felt the death of part of his soul and wanted to see if it was true. Harry looked over at the broken, twisted Diadem as it lay destitute on the floor. Burn marks scolded the surface, creating black soot over the metal. The sword of Gryffindor lay not five metres from it, also looking a little battered. His eyes then traveled up to glare into the face of a fearful Dumbledore. Harry felt the need to scream, to punch, hit, fight. It was a feeling that could lead someone to kill. He could imagine how satisfying it could be to squeeze down on someone's throat, to hold on tight as they writhed beneath him, to inflict pain and suffering so severe that the victim would wish for death. These feelings made the small part of Harry's mind, which continuously tried to push Voldemort out, sick as the images that flitted through his head.

'You'll regret this, old man.' Harry hissed, his throat burning from the venom in his voice.

The pressure in this head then began to seep away as Voldemort removed himself from Harry's mind. However, as he pulled away, Harry's mind was taken with him momentarily.

The room he saw was dark; the only light coming from a few torches on the wall. Voldemort was sat at a long table, the almost black wood was coated with a fine varnish, creating a perfectly smooth surface for Nagini to slither across to her master and wrap herself over his shoulders. The Dark Lord appeared to be alone, otherwise. His wand was on the table before him while he fingered it gently despite his rage. However, he seemed to calm as he stood from his seat, the snake slinking to the floor. He turned around and glided towards a door at the back of the room, passing a portrait of an elderly blonde man leaning on an intricate cane. Voldemort reached out and opened the door into a long passage way. He hurried through until he came to another door which led to another, smaller, dining room. Looking around he made account for all his present Death Eaters, save Severus, who were all sat around a similar table to the one he had just left. They all watched him as he stood at the end of the table and waited for their orders.

'It's time. We're going to Hogwarts.'

A conversation began but the image and sounds started to fade and Harry felt the connection slipping. The Dark Lord and his followers were moving further and further away as the image of the cool tiled floor of the room of requirement filtered back through.

'Harry?' Dumbledore whispered as the boy's eyes returned to their natural green. 'Speak to me, Harry.'

'…c…com-coming…he's coming…he's on his way.' Harry shuddered as he fully regained his mind and slumped against the wall of furniture.

'What do you mean?' Snape asked as he came into view from behind the wardrobe he had been hiding behind under the headmaster's command.

'He's coming to the school. I heard him speaking to his Death Eaters.' Harry sighed in relief as the pain in his scar lessened and his head stopped pounding. 'He was at Malfoy Manor and knows what we've done.'

Dumbledore furrowed his brow and retrieved the sword from the floor. 'I must send out a Patronus to the Oder members and anyone else who'll be able to fight. Voldemort won't be expecting us to be prepared for his attack so we may be to an advantage.' The elderly man held out a hand to Harry who took it and allowed him to heave the boy to his feet. 'Severus,' Dumbledore addressed the brunette sadly, 'you must go to him. He'll be expecting you.' He indicated to Severus' arm where the Dark Mark was burning slightly. 'Be careful.'

Severus nodded once, his face set in determination but Harry was sure he saw sorrow in the man's black eyes.

Thank you for reading. I hope you all liked it.

Allen Pitt- Harry is a sorry little soul. Using Malfoy to break into Gringotts to get the cup would have been a good idea but Dumbledore's actually already destroyed it. In the last chapter Dumbledore told Snape that Dobby found it and brought it to him. Sorry if I didn't make that clear or write that bit well. It would have been a really good idea though and would have given Draco a bigger role. He is my favorite character after all. Thanks for your review.

Phoenixx Rising- Thank you. Snape is just so funny in the books and Alan Rickman is so good at playing him in the films.

Please review.