Had a little mix-up. This is actually chapter 79. Everything is in the correct order now. Sorry for any confusion.
"I don't care what Madam Pomfrey says," said Ron. "I'm playing the game against Ravenclaw."
"Well, if McLaggen tries to take you out, we can always prop up a scarecrow on your broom," said Hermione.
"It would play better than him."
Harry snorted. "We'll call it Plan C."
"What's Plan B?"
"Knock out McLaggen and bring in Oliver Wood," he said. "Let him polyjuice."
"Hello everyone," said Luna, approaching them.
"Hey, Luna," said Hermione. "How's your painting going?"
"I seem to have hit a snag," xe said, opening xyr bag to rummage around for something. "I get inspired for a little while but I think something is gnawing on my brushes."
Hermione pulled Harry and Ron back by their collars before they could sneak off.
"You know, when Márcia loses her funky flow, she tries to shake things up," said Hermione. "Did you try painting somewhere else?"
"Yes." Luna handed Ron a gurdy root and continued rummaging.
"Listen to some new music?"
"Yes."
"What about standing on your head?"
"I'm not very good at standing on my head," xe admitted and pointed to xyr ear. "Balance issue, you see. I can't even swim very deep."
"Did a wrackspurt crawl into your ear?" asked Harry.
"Wrackspurts don't mess with balance, silly. I've had trouble with balance after my mummy died. I was close to the explosion, see."
Hermione hummed and nodded while Harry and Ron looked uncomfortable.
"Then turn your canvas upside down or look at it in a mirror. If you've still got trouble, I've got some artsy movies that might give you inspiration."
"I'll let you know," xe said and finally unearthed what xe was looking for. "Here you go Harry. From Dumbledore. I've got a club meeting to get to now."
"Oh, Luna. I've got a story to print," said Hermione, handing over the papers. "Feel free to pare down and edit as you see fit."
"Will do." Xe waved and skipped along.
"She's an odd one," said Ron.
"Xe," Hermione corrected and looked over at Harry. "Lesson?"
"Lesson," he confirmed. "With Dumbledore tonight at eight."
"I've got prefect rounds," said Hermione. "I think he's catching on."
"You're not exactly the best at keeping secrets," said Ron.
"It's fine, I'm on the rounds with Draco, I'll ask him to cover for me. Meet in the quiet room?"
"Can I come too?"
"Sure. Go before me, if it looks like we're going together it'll look bad and I really don't want to direct my venom at you."
"Appreciate it."
It didn't take much to convince Draco to cover for her. He grumbled about it and promised that if anyone asked she'd be having a very embarrassing moment that nobody would want to disturb. She responded with a, "Thanks Duckie!" and went to the room to prepare. She set up the cushions and unlaced her boots. Ron entered the room when she had settled.
"So, what do I do?" he asked. "Do you need me to be quiet?"
"If you can." Hermione laid back and cast the charms to make the hypnotizing lights.
"I hope you are not tired of diving into other people's memories, for they are curious recollections, these two," said Dumbledore. "This first one came from a very old house-elf by the name of Hokey. Before we see what Hokey witnessed, I must quickly recount how Lord Vol—"
"Sir! You can't push the wards like this!"
"Our good friend Morty left Hogwarts. He reached seventh year of his schooling with, as you might have expected, top grades in every examination he had taken. All around him, his classmates were deciding which jobs they were to pursue once they had left Hogwarts. Nearly everybody expected spectacular things from Tom Riddle, prefect, Head Boy, winner of the Award for Special Services to the School. I know that several teachers, Professor Slughorn amongst them, suggested that he join the Ministry of Magic, offered to set up appointments, put him in touch with useful contacts. He refused all offers. The next thing the staff knew, Our Good Friend was working at Borgin and Burkes.
"I think you will see what attractions the place held for him when we have entered Hokey's memory. But this was not Our Good Friend's first choice of job. Hardly anyone knew of it at the time—I was one of the few in whom the then headmaster confided—but Our Good Friend first approached Professor Dippet and asked whether he could remain at Hogwarts as a teacher. He was unsuccessful, Professor Dippet wanted him to get more experience. So Our Good Friend went off to Borgin and Burkes, and all the staff who had admired him said what a waste it was, a brilliant young wizard like that, working in a shop. However, he was no mere assistant. Polite and handsome and clever, he was soon given particular jobs of the type that only exist in a place like Borgin and Burkes, which specializes, as you know, Harry, in objects with unusual and powerful properties. He was sent to persuade people to part with their treasures for sale by the partners, and he was, by all accounts, unusually gifted at doing this."
"I'll bet he was," said Harry.
"And now it is time to hear from Hokey, who worked for a very old, very rich witch by the name of Hepzibah Smith."
Zacharias Smith's great aunt.
Hermione slipped into the body of the memory holder. She must've been a child. No. She was much too small and skinny to be a child. She was a house-elf. Female. Her long, thin fingers were lacing up massive feet into satin slippers while the rest of her vision was obscured by a fluffy pink set of robes that would fit right at home in 18th century French aristocracy.
"Hurry up, Hokey," said Hepzibah imperiously. "He said he'd come at four, it's only a couple of minutes to and he's never been late yet!"
Hermione as Hokey straightened up as the witch tucked away her powder puff. The woman wore an elaborate ginger wig and had heavily painted her face, giving her the look of someone who was going to a costume party but had dressed in the car on the way there. Perhaps the cake makeup was to cover up the wrinkles.
"How do I look?" asked Hepzibah, turning her head to admire the angles of her face in a heavily frosted hand mirror.
"Lovely, madam," squeaked Hokey, meaning her words.
A tinkling doorbell rang and the two (three) of them jumped.
"Quick, quick, he's here, Hokey!" cried Hepzibah, and the elf scurried out of the room, which was so crammed with objects that it was difficult to see how anybody could navigate their way across without knocking over at least a dozen things. There were cabinets full of little lacquered boxes, cases full of gold-embossed books, shelves of orbs and celestial globes, and many flourishing potted plants in brass containers. In fact, the room looked like a cross between a magical antique shop and a conservatory.
Hokey maneuvered these with ease due to her small stature and answered the door to Tom Riddle. He was dressed in a black suit; his hair was longer than it had been and his cheeks were hollowed, but all this did was give him an air of mystery. Hokey trembled. She didn't like this man. She didn't like how he stared down at her as if she were something nasty on his shoe, but mistress liked him, so she would say nothing.
"Master Riddle," she said, curtsying and guiding him into the house along an easier path.
She hadn't needed to of course, he'd been here many times. He approached Hepzibah and bowed low, brushing her hand with his lips. Hokey ran into the kitchen to grab a tray of cakes and tea.
"I brought you flowers," he said quietly, producing a bunch of roses from nowhere.
"You naughty boy, you shouldn't have!" squealed Hepzibah, placing them in the vase she had ready on the nearest table. "You do spoil this old lady, Tom… Sit down, sit down… Where's Hokey? Ah…"
Hokey was ready and set the tray at her mistress's elbow.
"Help yourself, Tom. I know how you love my cakes. Now, how are you? You look pale. They overwork you at that shop, I've said it a hundred times…"
Tom smiled and Hepzibah simpered.
"Well, what's your excuse for visiting this time?" she asked, batting her lashes. She knew very well what. It was all a game.
"Mr. Burke would like to make an improved offer for the goblin-made armor," said Tom. "Five hundred Galleons, he feels it is a more than fair—"
"Now, now, not so fast, or I'll think you're here for my trinkets!" pouted Hepzibah.
If they started playing some weird sex game like in The Producers, Hermione was out, that wasn't the kind of hidden knowledge she wanted. Hokey was already walking away to an armoire and opened it to reveal dozens of leather boxes no doubt containing treasures.
"I'm ordered here because of them," said Tom. "I am only a poor assistant, madam, who must do as he is told. Mr. Burke wishes me to inquire—"
"Oh, Mr. Burke, phooey!" said Hepzibah, waving her hand. "I've something to show you that I've never shown Mr. Burke! Can you keep a secret, Tom? Will you promise you won't tell Mr. Burke I've got it? He'd never let me rest if he knew I'd shown it to you, and I'm not selling, not to Burke, not to anyone! But you, Tom, you'll appreciate it for its history, not how many Galleons you can get for it."
"I'd be glad to see anything Miss Hepzibah shows me," said Tom and Hepzibah gave a girlish giggle.
"I had Hokey bring it out for me… Hokey, where are you? I want to show Mr. Riddle our finest treasure… In fact, bring both while you're at it."
"Here, madam," Hokey squeaked, freeing two of the boxes and stacked them on top of each other, holding them high above her head as she maneuvered around the room until she could pass them over.
"Now," said Hepzibah, laying both on her lap and preparing to open the topmost one, "I think you'll like this, Tom… Oh, if my family knew I was showing you… They can't wait to get their hands on this!"
She opened the lid. Inside was a small golden cup with two finely wrought handles.
Hermione felt another memory within her unlock. This time she was in the castle kitchens and had no form, but could see everything going on. It took her a moment to realize who she was looking at. Helga Hufflepuff.
Helga hummed the upbeat tune she had set as the password to her Common Room as she stirred a huge cauldron. Dozens of house-elves were around her, a few helping, but most cleaning up or preparing other dishes. When she turned around it was clear why so many elves were milling around. Helga was heavily pregnant, but she didn't let it halt her energy. She was young. Hermione could sense that the castle was still under construction.
"At it again, I see," said a cool voice.
A man with long black hair and heavy-lidded eyes entered the kitchens with his hands held behind his back. He wore long green robes and resting on his chest was Slytherin's locket. Hermione realized this was the man himself. He looked absolutely nothing like his portrait.
"Sal!" said Helga cheerfully.
Hermione had the feeling Hogwarts was translating for her so she'd understand in modern terms. She sensed they weren't even speaking English. Old or otherwise.
"Should you be moving so much in your condition?" Salazar asked.
Helga laughed heartily and scooped up some of the stew she was making.
"Here, put some meat on your bones," she said. "New recipe."
Salazar allowed her to feed him some and nodded.
"Wonderful as always." He rested a hand on her stomach and showed a tenderness none of his descendants had. "I have a present for you."
"Another one? Any more and people will start to realize what we mean to each other."
"Then accept at least one more. I traded Missy's venom for its craft. Godric 'accidentally' stumbled upon it in the bottom of my trunk. I meant to present it to you for your birthday, but now seems as good a time as any."
"I imagine he will be wanting his own trinket now," she teased.
Salazar brought the present around, presenting the Cup that would come to be in Hepzibah Smith's possession. Helga lit up and took it from him.
"How beautiful!" she gushed, running her fingers over the badger face on the side.
"I thought it might be something the child could pass down," he said. "It will always protect you. Hold it in your hand and make a short jab."
Helga gripped the handle and made a jabbing motion. The bowl expanded out into a massive shield crackling with energy.
"It will protect you from everything," said Salazar. "Basilisk gaze, the killing curse… it was tricky magic and not one easily replicated."
He showed her how to return it to a cup.
"Can I drink out of it?" she asked.
Salazar chuckled.
"Of course," he said. "It shall always remain full for as long as you wish it. I would never give you something you couldn't eat or drink out of."
Helga beamed and touched his cheek. "You know me well."
He kissed her gently and knelt down to press his ear against her baby bump.
Time sped on. Helga and Salazar grew older and their child, a son, grew up as well. Time paused. The sky was stormy and the four Founders stood on the grounds of the castle. Helga was staring at Salazar sorrowfully, a baby girl swaddled in her arms. No one knew of the love she and Salazar shared except Godric and Rowena after the birth of Llewellyn. The boy, now fifteen, stood next to his mother wearing the locket his father often did in portraits.
"I told you Salazar!" Godric spat. "I've had enough of your nonsense!"
"Nonsense… nonsense?!" Salazar growled. "I told you all what would happen! I told you from the very beginning. We should only take those from magical families. I let my love for all of you blind me to reason. 'Take the muggle-borns,' you said. 'They won't survive without our help!' Well… it certainly turned out swimmingly, didn't it?"
"It was… unfortunate," said Rowena.
"UNFORTUNATE?!" Salazar roared, gripping his wand. "And they say I am cold and calculating. You call Leonor, my sister, unfortunate?! Godric, my sister, your wife! Whom you promised to protect, was tortured and killed by witch hunters after answering the call of one of your muggle-born students!"
"Leonor wanted to help," said Godric, face twisting with grief. "I'm as angry as you are, but you cannot blame our muggle-born students for the actions of Witch Hunters!"
"You never cared for her! If you did, you would be as angry as I am now!"
"I never said I wasn't. My wife… our unborn child… I can never get them back, but I won't dishonor her memory by banishing the students she wanted to protect."
"Then that makes you a fool. And when the time comes, when those unworthy of magic lead those filthy murderers into the school we dreamed of since our youth, my descendant will awaken your last line of protection."
"Salazar…"
"Helga." Salazar held out his hand, his eyes wide. "Please."
Helga clenched her jaw and shook her head. "No. I'm sorry, but I made a vow to teach all who sought to learn and I'm going to do that. Please, Sal… I loved Leonor too, but this isn't the answer."
His gaze grew cold.
"Fine," he said. "Fine! I'm not going to stay under the same roof as my enemies. If you can't stand behind me in this, then it's only a matter of time before we turn against each other and the enemy will win. You're fools. All of you!"
Godric went red in the face.
"I want you off the grounds, Salazar!" he snarled. "If you are here after nightfall so help me I won't hesitate."
"No need. I know I am no match to your brute." Salazar drew himself up. "I won't stay where I am not wanted."
"You are wanted," said Helga.
"Let him leave," said Rowena. "I don't want him spouting his pureblooded nonsense around my daughter."
Salazar glowered at her and looked at Helga.
"Are you with me or not?"
Rachel started crying and Helga shushed her, bouncing her gently.
"I am not, Sal," she said, her eyes growing sad. "I'm sorry."
"As you wish." He turned on his heel.
"Papa, wait!" Llewellyn ran forward. "I'm coming with you!"
"Llewellyn, no," said Salazar. "You should stay with your mother. Finish your schooling."
His son shook his head and scrubbed his cheeks furiously. "I'm not abandoning you."
Salazar's face twisted and he pulled his son into a tight hug.
"We'll accept your descendants, Salazar," said Godric. "But you may never enter the grounds again.
Salazar nodded curtly and strode away, Llewellyn keeping pace beside him.
The scene blurred and Hermione found herself watching Dumbledore and Tom in the Headmaster's office. Tom Riddle had clearly made several horcruxes by now and it was taking its toll. His cruelty, misdeeds, and greed were showing on his once handsome face. Now it seemed to bloat in places and warp in others like he had been made of wax. His fingers, which drummed on his arm, seemed much too long and his eyes had taken a shark-like appearance.
"Let us speak openly," said Dumbledore. "Why have you come here tonight, surrounded by henchmen, to request a job we both know you do not want?"
Tom looked vaguely surprised. "A job I do not want? On the contrary, Dumbledore, I want it very much."
"Oh, you want to come back to Hogwarts, but you do not want to teach anymore than you wanted to when you were eighteen. What is it you're after, Tom? Why not try an open request for once?"
Tom sneered. "If you do not want to give me a job—"
"Of course I don't," said Dumbledore. "And I don't think for a moment you expected me to. Nevertheless, you came here, you asked, you must have had a purpose."
Tom stood up. He looked less like his whole self than ever, his features thick with rage. "This is your final word?"
"It is," said Dumbledore, also standing.
"Then we have nothing more to say to each other."
"No, nothing," said Dumbledore, and a great sadness filled his face. "The time is long gone when I could frighten you with a burning wardrobe and force you to make repayment for your crimes. But I wish I could, Tom. . . . I wish I could. . . ."
Tom made a disgusted noise and turned on his heel. Hermione followed him from the office and furrowed her brow as he entered the Room of Things. He withdrew Ravenclaw's diadem from the folds of his robes and set up a circle on the floor. He muttered an enchantment and the diadem glowed brightly, taking on the curse he spoke to strengthen it. Hermione felt sick to her stomach. Had she known it already had a curse tied to it, she never would have added Astoria's. She could have caused his resurrection.
She woke up when Tom had his confrontation with Helena. Ron was scratching out Runes for his homework. He looked over at her.
"What'd you find out?"
"Let's wait for Harry to get here," she said and sat up.
It didn't take long. Harry entered and sat down on one of the cushions looking pensive.
"Dumbledore is upset that I haven't gotten the memory from Slughorn yet," he said. "But I don't know how to bring it up to him!"
"We'll brainstorm some ideas tomorrow," said Hermione. "So, we definitely know now that Hufflepuff's Cup has great importance to him, yeah?"
"Right," said Harry. "I think he might've used Hepzibah Smith for the locket horcrux. He pinned the whole thing on Hokey, her house-elf."
Hermione hummed and shook her head. "I diverged from there. I learned of the origins of the Cup and the power it contains."
"Really?" Ron scooted closer. "What can it do? How'd she get it?"
"Well, it's a very powerful shield," said Hermione. "And it was a present from Salazar to Helga in celebration of their first child together."
Their jaws dropped.
"Stop lying," said Harry.
"Since when do I lie?"
"I just… how come nobody ever knew?" he said. "You'd think if Slytherin and Hufflepuff had children…"
"Everyone would know about it?" Hermione finished. "I mean… Salazar left Helga shortly after their second child was born. He was so full of hurt because his sister, Leonor, Gryffindor's wife, was killed by Witch Hunters after going to help a muggle-born student. She was pregnant and Gryffindor never remarried. That's why he never had any descendants. Rachel started her own matrilineal line through Hufflepuff, and Llewellyn continued his patrilineal line through Slytherin." She rested her elbows on her knees. "Zacharias Smith was the true heir of Slytherin during all that Chamber stuff."
"I think his brain would break if we told him," said Ron. "How come Hufflepuff never stopped the Basilisk?"
"Missy was their beloved pet," said Hermione, using Hogwarts' knowledge. "She kept looking for her after Salazar left, but didn't know of the Chamber's location and Rachel wasn't a parseltongue like Llewellyn so she couldn't call for the entrance when she was old enough. She actually never knew who her father was or that she had a brother. It was just… too painful."
"I guess Helga was afraid she'd lose her last kid," said Ron, looking sad from the thought.
"You okay, mate?" asked Harry.
Ron shrugged. "Just… missing my dad. You know… after that poison I thought I saw him. Heard him telling me to hold on."
Hermione and Harry each took a hand. He inhaled deeply and shook his head.
"What else did you find out?" he asked, not letting go.
"Well… Morty tried again for the teacher's position," said Harry. "Did you see that, Nia?"
"Mmhm. He used it as an opportunity to create a curse on the Defense Position," she said. "Planted Ravenclaw's Diadem here."
"Mm… Well, at least it means Snape won't last," said Ron. "Maybe he'll go before finals like Umbridge so we can have study hall!"
Hermione made a face. "About that…"
"What?"
"I… may have broken the curse on the Defense Position," she said. "Nothing bad is going to happen to Snape."