Author's Note

I finally have a beta to catch my spelling and/or grammar errors. Thank you, hpfanfictionreader! You're wonderful :)

I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!

I'm not J.K. Rowling, so I don't own anything.

Ch 21: Hidden

"Harry?" Hermione tentatively called, noticing the light shining from under the loo door as she returned to the Room of Requirement.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," he mumbled weakly, voice strained and raspy. Concern had her opening the door before he could protest, particularly since he'd not even noticed she wasn't there to wake before he'd entered the room.

Harry was curled up in the corner, the side of his clammy face resting against the cool stone wall with the heel of his hand pressed tightly against his forehead so that only the edge of the angry, red lightning bolt marking him was visible, and the acrid scent of vomit permeating the air. He was in a right state, to be sure.

"I really can't handle a lecture right now, Hermione," he muttered, rubbing the mark as though additional pressure might ease the pain or erase what he'd learned from it.

As much as she wanted to do precisely what he'd just requested she refrain from, because Harry's connection with the dark wizard troubled her greatly – more than she cared to admit, truthfully – but Snape's earlier condition was still too fresh in her mind. And Harry had probably witnessed the whole thing. He'd likely experienced Voldemort's emotions. Yes, that connection was more than troubling.

"How bad was it?" she asked, taking a seat beside him, careful to avoid the dip where a small puddle of water had collected from the leaking pipe and slanting floor. The rough edges of the chilly stone walls bit into her back, but she ignored the discomfort of the dank toilet.

This room held none of the charm and festiveness that the main room boasted of. It likely hadn't occurred to anyone to will the room to be more modern and inviting. Not that Hermione was complaining. Lavender and Parvati already spent enough time primping, and several of the other younger girls had joined them.

"Bad enough," he said darkly, closing his eyes and swallowing so thickly his Adam's apple bobbed.

"We should check Ravenclaw Tower again in case we missed something." Dumbledore wouldn't have made the suggestion if he didn't think it was relevant. It was unfortunate that they'd not discussed the matter further, particularly the bit about Ravenclaw's mysterious daughter, but she could always try to catch up with him again that evening if they didn't have any luck.

"Yeah, all right," Harry agreed, probably only half listening and not up to arguing anything at the moment.

"Can I get you anything?"

"Toothbrush."

With as many people as had taken to residing in the Room, they'd all begun storing their belongings at their bunks, lest they get mixed up or lost among the other students' things. Even now, when the trio were the only three around, they'd continued the habit. Hermione wasn't sure she was ready to have all the noise and chaos resume, preferring the quieter environment, even if it did make sneaking around more difficult.

A clock showed it was only a little after five in the morning when she retrieved Harry's toothbrush, but he just continued to sit there, holding his forehead. She debated leaving him, the promise of her soft blankets and cosy bed beckoning, but she couldn't abandon Harry when he looked so beaten and vulnerable – even if she was so exhausted her eyelids were drooping and her head was lolling when she sat back down. Hopefully she could at least steal a nap that afternoon after they checked the Tower again.

"Did I miss something?" Ron asked from the open doorway as he blinked sleepily, taking them in, his bright hair sticking up on the left side from how he'd slept on it. Hermione bit her lip, wondering if she'd woken him when she'd gotten Harry's toothbrush, or if it had been the light from the toilet when she left the door open to air the pungent scent of sick out.

"We're going to double check Ravenclaw Tower," she announced, skipping the part about Harry being in Voldemort's head.

"Right, because doing the same thing again and expecting different results isn't the definition of insanity," Ron griped.

Great. He was in a mood. And she was equally cranky after not sleeping herself. Perfect.

"You're welcome to wait here," she snapped, jutting out her jaw and hearing her teeth click as she did. Just because he didn't know it was Dumbledore's suggestion, not hers, didn't mean he needed to be so difficult and unhelpful.

"Since we're all up, we might as well get to it," Harry sighed, heaving himself up and collecting the cloak Hermione had dropped as he left the room.

They'd barely entered the Tower, the boys content to let Hermione puzzle out the entry riddle by herself, when Ron said, "Don't see why we're in such a hurry we couldn't have had breakfast first. We already know this is pointless."

"I told you that you didn't have to come!" Hermione fired back, throwing up her arms as she shoved off the cloak.

Luckily, no one in Ravenclaw had stuck around over Christmas. Only three Slytherins and one Hufflepuff had. Hermione couldn't remember there ever being a holiday with so few people around ever happening.

"I just don't see the point," Ron countered, giving her a mulish expression.

Were they seriously bickering over food? How utterly ridiculous! There were times Ron infuriated her so much she could just scream!

Worse, Harry wasn't even weighing in or trying to put a stop to it. He'd just tossed himself onto the sofa and appeared content to wait them out before they began combing through the Tower for a second time. Probably, he was appreciating how similar of a set up this room was to the Gryffindor common room, apart from the extra bookshelves and designated study areas. Hermione guessed Harry missed the scarlet and gold tower he'd come to think of as his first real home, particularly after the rough night he'd had.

Not that she could ask him about it. Not with Ron's petulant glare aimed her way.

"The point? We're nearly out of time, Ronald. People are counting on us, and we won't have our run of the castle for that much longer. We could find a lead here and need to check other places out too," Hermione explained stiffly, willing her tone not to turn shrill as it was wont to do when they argued.

"Guys," Harry called.

"Other places. That's exactly my point," Ron declared smugly, crossing his arms as he ignored Harry.

"Ha! Where do you think it is? You're obviously so clever, you must have a better idea," Hermione taunted, crossing her own arms to keep from physically knocking the mulish look off Ron's freckled face.

"He was in Slytherin. We're better off checking that common room than we are trying here again," Ron suggested. As though they could simply walk right into one of the few houses with students milling about, and particularly the ones after Harry.

"Guys," Harry repeated. Hermione grit her teeth, not acknowledging Harry's vain attempt to play referee. Not right now, at least.

"We can't check there. Besides, it's not going to be out in the open. He'll have protected it, and given the Slytherin House's reputation, I doubt he'd trust it so close to that many with similar inclinations to his own," Hermione reasoned, pointing out just a few of the numerous holes in Ron's idea.

So much for his vaunted strategic skills.

"Guys!"

"You just don't want to admit you're wrong," Ron accused, flushing a brilliant shade of red. He hated when she called him out and made him feel like an idiot. It wasn't like that had been her intention, he'd just made it so bloody easy.

"GUYS!" Harry cried, much more insistently than before.

"WHAT?" Hermione and Ron both yelled.

"I know where it is," Harry answered, awe stretching his face into a wondrous grin as he nodded towards the tall marble statue tucked just inside a small alcove in the corner, almost hidden in the shadows cast by the spiral staircase leading to the dorm rooms. There, atop the imposing witch's head, was an intricately carved tiara with a raven centred just above the forehead on the otherwise thin band.

It was smaller than Hermione had envisioned. So much so, in fact, that she'd not even noticed it the last time they'd been here. She'd barely glanced at the statue then. And even now, it blended with how the sculptor had styled Ravenclaw's hair. You wouldn't notice it unless you were specifically looking – or you were bored by your friends' antics.

"The Horcrux really is the diadem, and I've seen it before," Harry added.

"You have?" Ron asked incredulously.

"It's in the Room of Requirement. It's been with us this whole time," Harry explained, almost laughing at the irony. "It's where I hid the Half-Blood Prince's book."

Then it was Hermione's turn to laugh at the irony, though she tried to mask it with a gasping cough. The diadem they'd all been searching for was with Snape's book. Guess she'd been more correct than even she'd realised in assuming Voldemort would want him looking out for it, even unknowingly.

The cough lodged in her throat as she caught sight of the Grey Lady. Ravenclaw's ghost hovered beside the empty fireplace, watching them avidly. For a second, Hermione wondered if she should say something. Perhaps beg the spirit to keep quiet about encountering them, but the castle ghosts, particularly the House ones, were loyal to Hogwarts, and given her nearly entirely transparent state, Hermione suspected she didn't actually wish to be seen.

Seeing her here reminded Hermione that Nearly-Headless Nick frequently loitered in Gryffindor Tower during breaks. She wondered if Dumbledore had been suggesting she visit here to question the Grey Lady directly. Her clothing certainly suggested she'd been around the castle long enough to have seen things.

Not that it mattered now.

Within a minute, they were racing as fast as they dared under the cloak to get back to the point where they started. Then they impatiently waited for Harry to call the correct room into existence, traipsing back and forth three times in front of the blank stone wall while muttering under his breath about hidden objects.

"You've got to be kidding me," Ron declared, stumbling to an abrupt halt not two steps into the room.

Hermione was just behind him, and even she let out a squeak of surprise at the sight before them.

The room was an absolute wreck. Chaos, piled on top of chaos.

Rows stretched out before them, almost as far as she could see, before twisting and merging. The sides of the paths were formed out of broken and discarded bits stacked so high even Hagrid wouldn't be able to see over them. Demolished desks perched on empty cages like the ones used in Transfiguration were beside an upended frame of a dormitory bed, one post rotted away as though eaten through with acid.

It was all like that too. Most of the items requiring magic to keep them in their place. It honestly looked like a giant had trampled through the castle, and instead of repairing the damage, it'd all been shoved in here instead.

"It's down this aisle… I think," Harry said uncertainly, selecting a row at random. Hermione didn't note anything distinguishing about this path that set it apart from the other three leading from the entrance, but she stayed silent.

They'd just passed a leaning tower of books that Hermione had to resist stopping to investigate when the row split yet again, forking into three new directions. And that was after they'd hit two dead ends that required them to backtrack and try a different branch.

Harry was getting visibly more inpatient by the second, and with this he ran a hand through his shaggy hair, making it stand on end while he looked about frantically, turning in a full circle. No immediate clues appeared to guide him.

"Go over it again, Harry. What are we looking for?" Hermione prompted, hoping to centre him. It was here. Somewhere. And panicking wouldn't help them locate it any sooner.

"It's on a bust of an old guy with a wig. It's on top of the cupboard I hid the Prince's Potion book in," Harry recited, repeating his description from when they'd first started their search. "I don't remember going this far in before."

That was easy enough to explain. Each time, they'd retraced their steps and picked a new path or veered left instead of right. The result was that Hermione was beginning to notice items she'd already seen.

"We're going in circles," Ron said gruffly, unconsciously echoing Hermione's conclusion.

"It's here. We've just got to keep looking," Harry insisted, brow pinching as he tried to determine which of the new paths they should try.

"It'll be faster if we split up. We've all seen the diadem now," Hermione pointed out practically, figuring they'd be at this for a few more hours if they didn't try something new. Ron caught her eye, and it was easy to see the relief that she'd been the one to make the suggestion he was moments away from voicing as well.

They each took a path and began the tedious task of scanning the mounds of partially transformed teacups, dented suits of armour, torn and empty canvases, barely hovering snitches, mismatched mittens, and cracked sneakoscopes. Hermione wondered if everything lost, hidden, or damaged within the castle ultimately ended up here. Or maybe this is where everything vanished with Evanesco was stored. It seemed distinctly possible.

"Any luck?" Harry called for the fifth time. They were at least trying to stay relatively close while they worked their way through the maze.

"What do you think? There's more junk packed in here than Fred and George managed to stuff in their room at the Burrow," Ron quipped. Though she'd seen the twins' room before they started packing up to move to the apartment over their new shop, and it was a pretty fair assessment.

"Keep looking," Harry encouraged, if a bit desperate and automated, sounding more like a mantra he was saying for his own benefit than actually addressing them.

Hermione rolled her eyes. As if they had any intention of stopping when they were this close.

It took nearly another hour of walking through piles of broken junk. Hermione had practically bitten through her lip as she resisted the urge to insist they head back to the beginning and try from there, assuming they'd accidentally passed the bloody thing when Harry cried, "I've got it!"

"Finally," Ron sighed, "I'll be right over…assuming I can."

"Accio diadem!" Harry called, summoning the Horcrux. His laugh indicated it worked, and she wished he'd tried the simple spell sooner to have saved them the intensive search.

It was still several more minutes, and a number of Marco Polo calls for her and Ron to make their way to the spot Harry was standing in. Ron got there first, of course.

"All that for this?" Ron asked as she was jogging over to them. He was turning the tiara over in his hands, studying it from various angles as though mystified by the idea it could contain any worth to anybody.

But then, it had nothing to do with Quidditch, so of course Ron didn't get it.

"Apparently. But you feel it, right?"

They were so focused on the diadem they didn't pay her any mind. Hermione opened the door of the cupboard just enough to peer in. The book was right there. Right where Harry said he'd left it.

The year before, she'd hated that book. Truly despised it. She resented that the author possessed more talent and intelligence than she did. And she hated that Harry was taking credit for accomplishments that weren't really his. Accomplishments that meant he bested her unfairly.

But it was Snape who'd altered the book. And not just with potions. There were other bits in the book as well. Small insights into who'd he'd been at her age – before he'd become a Death Eater. And knowing that altered her opinion of the book, though she wasn't entirely certain how she felt about it now. It'd be nice to take a quick peak. Or a proper look.

Discovering some of the hidden aspects of his life was a temptation too impossible to ignore.

Quickly, without giving herself time to second guess, she stuffed it in her beaded purse, then blinked, arrested by the sight of the Grey Lady.

Twice in one day. That was some sort of record, considering the Grey Lady was the most remote of all the dead residents in Hogwarts.

Had she followed them here? Why?

Hermione couldn't understand the anguished look on her face, but it was enough to prompt her to rummage about in her purse for the potion she'd prepared with Snape, eager to have this part over with. At that moment, she was immensely grateful that she'd thought ahead and been optimistic enough to bring the supplies along with her.

"Yeah. It's strange," Ron acknowledged, appearing puzzled.

"The locket was like this," Harry said meaningfully.

Of course. Ron had been bleeding to death and unconscious when they'd destroyed it, so he'd not known.

"Harry? I've got the poison," Hermione offered, carefully extending the phial of dark liquid and keeping the cork pointed up. She didn't like the strange and unsettling sensations that had begun to weave a vice grip around her heart. "You should destroy it quickly."

"Stay back. I'm not sure what it'll try," he warned, positioning himself between his friends and the ancient circlet that Ron had set down while Harry accepted the potion.

Seeing the spectacle once didn't truly prepare Hermione for it to happen again. She'd guessed it wouldn't be Dumbledore again, but she wasn't truly prepared for the spectre that formed from the diadem as Harry slowly approached it.

Ginny, as Hermione had first met the youngest Weasley years ago, swiftly emerged in a billowing swirl of smoke. The mist shifted and condensed to create her likeness, if a bit blurry around the edges. She looked so incredibly small and weak, her skin nearly translucent and her brown eyes dull and lifeless. Death had the child-like figure in its clutches.

It was enough to stop Harry in his tracks.

"You're not any closer," she mocked, sneering.

This Ginny looked cruel in a way Hermione had never seen the real Ginny be. What was even more disturbing was that it wasn't completely foreign, despite that. It was an expression she'd seen Fred wear a number of times. It didn't bode well, and it lent the image a startling degree of authenticity.

"Destroying this does nothing. You'll never find the cup. And even if you did, the Dark Lord will destroy you when you face him," the false Ginny taunted, sinking to kneel before the silver crown. Her face turned pleading and desolate as she added, "But probably not until after you get me killed."

"No," Harry denied automatically, his head shaking, physically attempting to dispel the notion.

"You're too weak. Too pathetic. You're destined to fail. How many others will die with me when that happens?" the eerie Ginny continued, raising a hand towards Harry and mockingly begged, "Please. Save me, Harry."

But he didn't move. And her bleak features twisted in rage that her efforts to draw him in had failed. Hermione wasn't sure why, or what would have happened if Harry had touched the mirage. Probably, it would have possessed him. It seemed the most likely aim, or perhaps she was only assuming that because of what happened with Ginny and the diary.

"There's a reason I've never told you that I love you. It would be too hard. We all know you're going to die. There's no other way for this to play out. It was always going to end that way," Ginny hissed viciously. "No one wants to love a dead man."

Harry approached it, head held high, and slowly poured the toxic poison onto the tiara, ignoring the writhing and cowering figure as it contorted like the potion was actually bathing it, when in reality, Harry was aiming it just behind the tortured girl.

"Better me than Ginny," he stated clearly, determination steadying his hand as the dying Horcrux released a final wailing screech.

Ron looked nearly as shaken as Harry, and when she laid a hand on his shoulder, lending him strength, he immediately moved to cover it, palm clammy and skin icy. Hermione couldn't imagine how difficult it was for them to see Ginny like that and essentially ignore her distress.

"Harry," Hermione beseeched, but words failed her. She didn't know how to comfort him after that. But Ron could.

Hermione turned a pleading look on him. He was still struggling, but one good thing about him, he usually came through when he was needed.

"Mate, she's my sister. I know you'd do anything to protect her. Just like I know she loves you. Even when I told her not to, she did," Ron quipped, using inappropriately timed humour to try and lighten the situation. All tact, that one. "You're going to win, and I'm going to give the best man speech at your wedding."

"Which hopefully won't include anything about how you didn't want them together," Hermione chastised, pursing her lips as she saw Harry still staring at the ruined diadem, unmoved.

"What? It's not like I want to see anyone snogging her. I'm her older brother," he said defensively, not catching her sarcasm or impatience. "It's my job to look out for her!"

"You really think I can beat him?"

"I've always believed in you," Hermione insisted sincerely.

"We both have. We wouldn't have stuck by you for all of this if we didn't."

Harry's stoic expression unsettled Hermione. She didn't like the idea of him accepting whatever conclusion he'd apparently come to with this latest Horcrux encounter.

"Then we need to find that cup."

Destroying the diadem seemed to have renewed Harry's determination to see this finished as quickly as possible. This, at least, was a goal Hermione could get behind and support completely, unlike the other things Harry had a habit of letting himself get sidetracked by or whatever bleak outcome he'd decided to meet head on.

"Has," Ron paused to glance at Hermione, before asking, "has he thought about it at all?" Of course he'd been worried about how she'd react to the idea of Harry being inside Voldemort's head.

And he didn't even know about the night before.

"No," Harry sighed, studying the twisted lump of silver that had once belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw.

It reminded Hermione that the Grey Lady had been here just minutes ago. But as she glanced around, the pale woman was nowhere to be seen.

"I wish I could talk to Dumbledore. I'm out of ideas," Harry admitted, ignorant that they'd ever had an audience, or that they were now, apparently, alone. "I really need his help."

"Maybe you can," Hermione ventured cautiously, wringing her hands as she mentally calculated all of the dangers involved as quickly as possible.

"We can't know when Snape will be out of his office," Ron argued, giving her a look that clearly said he believed she'd gone mental.

"He'll be in the Great Hall when the students return from break. He'll be busy for hours overseeing the feast," she explained. With all of the students gathered in one place, there was a strong possibility that Dumbledore would be in the Head office since he wouldn't be needed around the castle.

"Two days," Harry grinned, anticipation lightening his mood. "We can talk to Dumbledore then."