Expecto Patronum

Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize belongs to me. Just borrowed. Will be returned. Snape is welcome to stay, though.

A big Thank You goes to my beta-reader, Maggie and my beta-reader and brit-picker, Melusin, who both are always encouraging, helpful, and thorough.

Chapter 6 – Expecto Patronum

Three days later, Harry went into the Room of Requirement to retrieve Snape's old Potions book for Hermione. After they had come back from Malfoy Manor, almost all of their time had been spent with Professor McGonagall and other Order members. Everyone had been surprised and disgusted by the careless attitude with which the Ministry had treated the search of Malfoy Manor. The Aurors among the Order had promised to keep a closer eye on such operations in the future, but Harry hadn't been convinced. Order members were powerless when dealing with the wishes and demands of those who frequently made financial 'contributions' to the Ministry. Putting a stop to that preferential treatment of certain individuals would mean that the Minister would have to admit that things like bought favours were rather common. Harry thought that it was more likely that Snape would be spotted tap-dancing on a table in the Three Broomsticks than the Minister admitting that corruption in the Ministry existed.

Harry, this time accompanied by Ron and Hermione, had spent almost a full day at the Ministry again, explaining how they had found the secret room. They learned that the Vanishing Cabinet in Malfoy Manor led to another Death Eater hideout in the Lestrange family residence. But overall, the time at the Ministry was mostly wasted time, and Harry had already started to regret his decision to play the Ministry's mascot. Being able to spend the rest of the day at the Ministry archives to search for information about ancient artefacts was only a small compensation for the posing and the empty talk with which the Ministry tried to conceal its own failures.

They hadn't found anything of importance in the archives; the only slightly interesting report was the one about Mundungus Fletcher's arrest for impersonating an Inferius during an attempted burglary. But they had known that already. As far as Harry knew, Mundungus was still sitting in Azkaban, and Harry wasn't feeling sorry for him at all. He was still furious that Mundungus had stolen Sirius Black's possessions from Grimmauld Place.

Back at Hogwarts, Hermione had reminded Harry of his promise to get the Potions book for her. He had secretly hoped that she'd forget about it, but when had Hermione ever forgotten something?

Harry was still grumbling about Hermione's insistence while he walked past mountains of junk and forbidden items that were stacked away in that special version of the Room of Requirement. He cast a suspicious glance at the deactivated Vanishing Cabinet that had let the Death Eaters in on the night of the attack. However, Minerva McGonagall had assured them that Vanishing Cabinets and other known means of teleportation were now included in the spells that protected Hogwarts from intruders. Harry wondered briefly why the Aurors hadn't cleared out the room, but suspected that the Room of Requirement had its own ways of protecting its contents.

He was distracted from his ruminations when he spotted what he had been looking for: the marker he had left when he hid the book. Standing on top of the cupboard where the book was hidden was a statue of an old warlock with a dusty wig and an old, tarnished tiara on his head. Harry stopped short and stared. The tiara looked very familiar. It was old and battered and was missing a gemstone here and there, but it was undeniably an identical copy of the tiara Fleur had worn at her wedding––a duplicate of the beautiful goblin-made tiara that belonged to Ron's Aunt Muriel. Harry thought that this could only mean one thing: this one here had to be the genuine heirloom of Rowena Ravenclaw, probably stolen when it was with her nephew, Fabian Prewett. The one in Aunt Muriel's possession had to be a copy.

Harry retrieved the Potions book from the cabinet where it was hidden and wondered whether he should take the tiara with him but decided against it. He would want to discuss this with Ron and Hermione first, and then they'd have to find a safe place where they could investigate. He shuddered to think that what he was looking at right now in all likelihood contained a piece of Voldemort's soul.

Hermione and Ron were very excited when he told them about the tiara. Hermione immediately agreed with his assessment. She had found it fishy that Aunt Muriel's tiara didn't contain any magic. They were eager to find out the age of the piece and if there was any magic contained within it. Mindful of what Bill had taught them, they decided to take the tiara to a place where they could destroy it safely, if necessary.

"We could take it to the Shrieking Shack," Ron suggested.

"I don't know..." Hermione rubbed her nose. "I don't like experimenting with something that dangerous in a building. I'd prefer a lot of space surrounding it. None of us have much experience with containment charms and the like."

"But when we were practicing, you could always create one," Harry objected.

"I can," she said defiantly. "But I don't know how strong it will be when we're facing Dark magic worse than an Imperius Curse. I didn't have a real opportunity to test it; you know that I only learned it from a book, Harry." She flinched. "Just what Snape was always criticising..."

"If he was criticising it, it must be good," Ron said and grinned. "You know, Hermione, you almost seem obsessed with Snape...."

"Don't be silly," she snapped at him. "Of course I think about him a lot. He's a key player. He betrayed the Order, and he murdered Dumbledore; his crimes are clear for everyone to see. And yet..."

"Stop it," Harry snarled. "We'll learn nothing from speculating about Snape. The only time I'm going to think about him is when I'm imagining how I'll kill him."

Hermione shook her head. "I try to understand what happened and can't... And that's why I can't let it go. How could a boy who had a Muggle parent join the Death Eaters? I don't get it...."

Ron scowled at her. "What's the point, Hermione? He was the Head of Slytherin; that should tell you enough."

"We have a task here; may I remind you of that?" Harry hissed. "I can go and do it alone, if you have more important things to discuss, but I thought you might be interested."

"Don't be mean, Harry," Hermione chided. "You know that we'll do everything to help you. I think it's important to know how the enemy thinks.... We may be able to anticipate their actions. Isn't that what Dumbledore did, too?"

"Yes. But he was Dumbledore. We're three students who haven't even learned all Hogwarts has to teach yet. How can we possibly guess Voldemort's plans?"

"We may not have Dumbledore's wisdom and knowledge, Harry, but we're not stupid. Do you really think he would have given you the task if he hadn't thought you were capable of fulfilling it? And Dumbledore was fine with your telling us, and our helping you," Hermione said heatedly. "So where do you think we should take the Horcrux?"

"We don't know if it is one, do we?" Harry said. "I suggest the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid is still in France, so nobody will know that we're there, and no one will disturb us."

"And no one will help us when things turn out worse than we hope they do." Hermione shook her head. "We'll have to tell someone where we're going."

"I don't know," Ron said. "How do we explain why we're going into the Forbidden Forest?"

""We don't," Hermione said. "We just tell them we're going north. You take your brooms and pretend to exercise. I'll merely plod along with a school broom."

"All right, let's get going then," Harry agreed and went to get the tiara while Ron and Hermione fetched the broomsticks.

When he came back from the Room of Requirement and was walking towards the entrance hall, Harry met Peregrin Price, who had just come in through the main entrance.

"What are you up to, Harry? I saw your friends outside. Are they waiting for you? We need to arrange the first of those lessons you wanted me to give you. If you're still interested, that is?"

"Oh, absolutely," Harry said enthusiastically. "But right now, we want to get some exercise. We've been teasing Hermione mercilessly because she is such a bad flyer, and now we're going to teach her a few things and help her practice a bit. A witch should be able to fly on a broomstick."

"Indeed. Oh, that's a good idea, indeed. Maybe I should come with you; I could do with a bit of flying practice, too. But Minerva's expecting me... Where are you going? You shouldn't go too far without letting anyone know...." Price frowned.

"Just flying north for a bit––not very far. There's too much fog today to go very far, anyway," Harry said, relieved that he didn't have to find an excuse for not inviting Perry Price along.

"The fog is very dense; there could be Dementors out there, breeding, or whatever it is they do to multiply. They seem to be everywhere these days. Better be extra careful!"

"We'll watch our backs."

"Good. Why don't you come to my office when you're back? We can have our first lesson then...."

"That's great. Thank you, Professor."

"Call me, 'Perry'...," Price said, but Harry had already left.

"You know, having Price with us wouldn't be such a bad thing. I'm sure his containment field would be perfect...," Hermione mumbled and pushed a wet strand of hair out of her face before she tried to cast the age-determining spell Bill had told them about. The fog had thickened and covered everything in a coat of sticky moisture. She shuddered; standing in that thick fog felt uncomfortable and scary.

"How old are you?" Hermione whispered while she executed a difficult sequence of flicks, swishes, and stabbings with her wand. The tiara glowed blue, then green, then a dark ruby red, and finally emitted a golden mist that formed numbers in the air above it: Two nines and a five.

"Nine hundred and ninety-five years," Hermione said, awed. "At least one component of the tiara is as old as Hogwarts. Almost a thousand years...."

"So, if just one of the stones is that old, and the rest is new, it could still be counterfeit, couldn't it?" Ron looked confused.

"Yes," Hermione admitted. "To be certain, we'd have to take it apart and test each of its components independent from the other. But, maybe we should proceed to look for spells on it? Curses, blessings, or the like. If there is something, we'll have to take it apart, anyway."

"All right," Harry said. "Ron, you do it. You know that I don't really excel at emptying my mind...."

Hermione laughed. "Ron doesn't seem to have a problem with emptying his mind. Maybe because there's so little there...." She giggled when Ron swatted her on the arm.

All three of them were silent when Ron stretched out a hand towards the tiara and focused on it, trying to empty his mind of stray and distracting thoughts. Ron's hand soon emitted a faint ray of coppery green light––thin, like gossamer, which wound its way over and around the tiara like a cocoon.

The gossamer threads of green light that now covered the tiara intensified until it shone in a steady green light for a moment, looking just like the shine on the tiara Bill had tested on the evening before his wedding. But the similarity only lasted for a moment. Before Ron could lose his concentration, the steady green shine grew turbulent, red streaks mingling with the green, and vortex-like funnels spinning clockwise and anti-clockwise at nauseating speed. Finally, parts of the funnels rose up like small, glowing volcanoes and started to spit out yellow-white sparks. Harry, who had tentatively stretched a hand out towards those sparks, yanked it back with a yelp.

"Ouch! That's like a minor electric shock."

"You mean I caused eckeltricity?" Ron asked in a breathless voice. His concentration had finally faltered, and the glow on the tiara had faded.

"You certainly did." Hermione was fascinated. "Did you see the little volcanoes? There has to be strong magic on that tiara––many spells, maybe even that rumoured love blessing."

"So what do we do with it?" Harry asked, fidgeting nervously and casting uneasy glances around. The silence around them was eerie; the thick fog quenched every sound. It felt as if they were isolated in a bubble.

"We'll have to take it apart and then check each part for curses and hexes, just as we did with the items we practiced with," Hermione said. They had practiced curse-breaking by hexing and cursing small items for each other and trying to neutralize the magic on those items. It helped that curse-breaking was part of their seventh-year Defence Against the Dark Arts curriculum, and that Hermione, as always, had already read through all her textbooks before the start of school.

"You could check for benevolence or malice first," Ron suggested. "You were always good at it when we practised. You always recognised the Flobberworms under our Imperius Curse."

While the three friends had found it easy to identify objects that contained hexes and jinxes, experimenting with Dark magic turned out to be tricky. Apart from the Unforgivables, they didn't know any spells, and just as for the Horcruxes, the library failed to provide answers. Reluctantly, they had decided to use Imperio on a creature that wouldn't suffer under it. They had cursed Flobberworms, ordering them to refuse the lettuce they were fed. Surprisingly, that had worked well.

"Okay," Harry said and concentrated, muttering "Benefiz, Malefiz, one, two, three ..."

"Wow." Hermione was enthralled. The glow around the tiara had returned, but this time it was an even, silvery sparkle, untainted by any other colour, shape, or form.

"It's purely beneficial, then. No curses to protect it, or anything." Harry frowned. "If this is indeed a Horcrux, then he must be very sure of himself to leave such an item without protection..."

"Doesn't that fit, Harry? He is very arrogant, after all, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is." Harry nodded. "But if there is a fragment of his soul in there, shouldn't that show as something malicious?"

"Perhaps a soul fragment is neutral as long as it isn't connected to its owner or his memories?" Hermione suggested. "The spell only shows what qualifies as Dark Magic. Minor hexes and curses wouldn't show as malicious. We still have to take it apart ... "

"Should we really waste time with minor hexes and curses? To make certain that this isn't a Horcrux, we'll have to destroy the tiara anyway," Harry said, "but how?"

"We'd need to break it, or rip it apart, I suppose," Ron said. "The diary had a hole, didn't it? And the ring; the stone in the ring was split––a lightning-like rip in the stone, almost like your scar...."

"Uh-huh...," Harry rubbed his scar, looking thoughtful. "Maybe a Slicing Hex would cut the frame of the tiara open?"

"Let me do the containment charm first," Hermione interjected.

"There's nothing malicious there. Let's just get on with it, and then let's get out of here," Harry said impatiently and raised his wand, but Hermione stilled his arm with her hand. "Please, Harry, just in case..."

"Hurry up, then. The sooner the darn thing is destroyed, the better."

"Alveus magnus," Hermione yelled and pointed her wand at the tiara. A silvery substance left her wand and formed a big, glowing, iridescent bubble around the tiara.

"All right, Harry. Do it."

"Diffindo." The Severing Charm bounced back from the containment bubble, and Harry had to jump out of the way to avoid being hit by it himself.

"Looks like your spell doesn't let other spells enter the bubble," Ron remarked.

"I would never have guessed," Hermione groused, clearly displeased that her spell wasn't as perfect as she intended. "Try something stronger, Harry."

"What, and get the rebounding spell in my chest? No, put that bubble down, Hermione."

"Let me try to make a few changes first," Hermione said and murmured another spell, changing the iridescent bubble into a less solid, foggy-looking sphere.

"Diffindo." The spell seemed to penetrate the bubble. The tiara released a few sparks where it was hit, but nothing else happened.

"I told you; it isn't strong enough. Don't we know a spell that blows things into tiny pieces?" Hermione asked shrilly.

"Calm down, we've just started. We still have a few spells we can try..."

"Try it with a Blasting Curse."

"Okay." Harry muttered the incantation, and a crimson jet streamed out of his wand, penetrated the bubble and hit the tiara full force. The fragile crown began to shake and to wobble, a golden glow changing quickly to a fiery red and then to the painfully bright yellowish-white of molten metal. One by one, the gemstones shot out of their settings, but before the silver frame could burst, the tiara was covered in a new layer of colourful translucent mist, a mist that seemed to repel the effect of the Blasting Curse so strongly that Hermione's protective bubble was forced to bulge and expand, glowing in a threatening, angry red.

Finally, sparks shot out from the bubble at the three students, who watched the procedure in horrified fascination. When the first spark almost hit one of them, all three grabbed their wands and yelled, "Protego." Only a moment later, Hermione's protective bubble burst, and a stream of hot, sparkling gas shot towards them. Hermione and Ron each cast another efficient Protego, but Harry's defensive charm was surprisingly weak, and he was blasted off his feet, thoroughly shaken, although he wasn't hurt otherwise. Before they could understand what had happened, or had time to panic, seemingly out of nowhere, a dark figure appeared at their side, wand raised, and the remainder of the exploding bubble hit an invisible shield with a very loud, booming sound. Harry knew that sound; Voldemort had used a shielding spell like that when he had fought Dumbledore at the Ministry of Magic over a year ago.

Harry blinked, pushed his glasses back up from the tip of his nose and stared at the dark figure that had just helped them, maybe even saved them. It was Severus Snape.

"Snape!" Harry yelled and jumped to his feet, but before he could do anything, he felt an icy chill penetrate his body, right to his bones. Together with the cold, a desperate fear gripped his heart, a fear that almost immobilized him. He braced himself, gripping his wand tightly. To his amazement, he saw that Snape was trying to fight a violent shiver while Ron and Hermione huddled together, wide-eyed and fearful. They stared at something moving just beyond the edge of their vision, about a hundered and fifty feet away, where the fog became so dense that even solid shapes blended completely with the mist. The moving shapes came closer, and Harry's fears turned into reality when he saw that the shapes were Dementors.

"Expecto Patronum," he yelled, summoning every happy thought he could think of, remembering how wonderful it had been kissing and holding Ginny, and how happy he was that she wouldn't give up on him. But the only thing that came out of his wand was some weak, silvery mist. Heart beating wildly, he heard his mother scream in the distance, a sound he only heard when the Dementors frightened him so much that he fainted, but before he lost consciousness, Hermione and Ron also yelled, "Expecto Patronum," and the silvery, shining shapes of an otter and a Jack-Russell terrier emerged from their wands to charge at the Dementors, but they weren't strong enough. A few Dementors retreated, but as soon as the Patronuses faded, more Dementors emerged from the mist.

"Is that the best you can do?" Snape asked in a scathing voice. He shook himself and stood straight, suddenly appearing a foot taller than he actually was. Then he began to chant a sequence of words at the Dementors, who swayed to the rhythm of the chant and finally bowed before him. Snape ended his chant with an authoritative, "Be gone," and the Dementors turned and disappeared into the mist.

With a dramatic swirl of his black robes, Snape spun around, pointing his wand at Hermione and Ron, who were too shocked and frightened to react and found themselves petrified. Harry gripped his wand firmly and hurled a Stunning Spell towards Snape, but the murderer of Albus Dumbledore deftly evaded it and sent ropes flying towards Harry. Once again, Harry's "Protego!" failed, and he found himself back on the ground, bound and unable to move. Hatred and fear twisted his face into an ugly grimace as he waited for the Killing Curse that surely would come next.

Snape summoned Harry's wand, looked at it disdainfully and then threw it to the ground. "And this is why Banishing is a better method for dealing with Dementors than a Patronus, Potter," Snape said, looking at Harry and his friends scornfully. "But Potter knows better. Famous Potter doesn't have to pay attention to his lessons, oh no. Famous Potter needs to be taught hands-on."

Harry gaped at him open-mouthed. He'd expected death and got a lecture. Snape smirked and circled the students, stroking his lower lip with a long, pale finger. "What do you think, Potter? Why is Banishing better than the Patronus? Go on, you once challenged me on this. Perhaps now, even you can see that you were wrong."

"I wasn't wrong," Harry snarled. "My Patronus always worked well."

"Ah – did it now? How extraordinary." Snape narrowed his eyes. "And what about today, Potter? You and your brilliant little friends here would be soulless hulls, now, if you'd had to rely on your mighty, strong Patronus."

"Stop lecturing and get it over with, you bastard!" Harry yelled.

"Tut, tut, your education was clearly wasted on you, Potter. I will tell you why Banishing is more efficient. We wouldn't want you to face the Dark Lord all foolish and ignorant, would we? It's because a Banishing Spell isn't based on emotion, but on raw power and control, that's why. Even an attentive child could do it; it's that simple once you know it." He walked to the remains of the tiara and bent over it, but stepped back quickly because it still emitted a blindingly bright shine.

"Messing around again with powers you don't understand, are you? What do you have there, Potter? This, whatever it is, is full of protective spells."

"That's none of your business. What do you want, Snape? Kill me if you must, but let them go...." He nodded his head towards his friends.

Snape shook his head, a malicious glint in his eyes, then walked over to Harry and looked down at him.

"There will be no killing today. You are for the Dark Lord, and your little friends there... They are of no consequence." Snape sneered when Harry glared at him but couldn't suppress a relieved sigh. "But when you face the Dark Lord as fate has ordained, you should be in prime condition. The Dark Lord appreciates, ah, challenging opponents. It makes the game more interesting. For him." Snape's smirk had broadened into a horrible smile. His eyes glittered, and he clearly enjoyed needling Harry.

"We'll see how much he'll enjoy the game," Harry snarled. "He didn't look so amused last time. When he was setting up that fake duel."

Snape's face turned stony. "That was dumb luck, Potter, and had nothing to do with your skills. But admitting that wouldn't provide you with all that admiration, and attention, would it now? It was your mother's protection that once saved your life, and it was your mother's protection that saved your life when you faced Voldemort the second time, not your own skills. The third time you faced Voldemort, you were protected by your wand; that was dumb luck. But you're the one who's been celebrated instead of your mother. And now, since her protection has ended, you haven't even noticed how your own magic has been affected, diminished by that loss. You neither noticed, nor will you be able to remedy it, because you lack the insight and the discipline."

Snape's greasy hair almost touched Harry's face, and his huge nose was so close that Harry could see the hairs in his nostrils. The bottomless black eyes stared piercingly into Harry's own eyes. Harry tried to empty his mind, but failed once again.

"What an emotional fool you are, Potter. Your hatred is so obvious. You have no self-control. You are incapable of reflection. How pleased the Dark Lord will be to hear of this. When you face him, your friends won't be around to save you. And it will be just him, and you, in all your glory."

Harry stared at him wide-eyed. Snape had just explained to him why his spells didn't work properly, and this was rather alarming. "Why are you telling me all this?" he asked.

"Because it won't make a difference. And it is entertaining to see you squirm, trapped in your own little bubble of self-importance..."

"Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, where are you?" The distant voice of Professor Flitwick made Snape's head snap up. With a mock bow towards the three friends, he released them from his spells, pulled his robes around himself and Disapparated.

"Damn, damn, damn!" Harry yelled. "He's playing with me like a cat with a mouse."

"What was that all about?" asked Ron, puzzlement plainly written on his face. "He was giving you a lecture on how to get rid of Dementors..."

"We don't have time for this," Hermione hissed and grabbed her broomstick. "You go and hide the tiara, and I'll cause a distraction. Professor Flitwick will find us any minute." She mounted her broom, clenched her jaws and shot straight up in the air. At about twenty feet, she directed the broom back to the ground, and halfway down, jumped off it. With a soft scream of pain, she crashed to the ground.

"What did you do that for?" Ron yelled, as both he and Harry ran to where she was lying, her face twisted in pain.

"Here you are. What are you doing in the forest? Is someone injured?" Professor Flitwick had found them and jumped off his broom, running over to Hermione, where he collapsed beside her. "Miss Granger, what happened?"

"I lost control of my broom. It just kept flying off with me. Harry and Ron followed me, but I couldn't stop. And then I fell off. I think my leg's broken." Hermione looked at her Charms teacher wide-eyed and innocent. "I think I need to see Madam Pomfrey."

Harry suppressed a grin. Hermione had successfully quoshed any enquiry Professor Flitwick could have made about their being here. He had wrapped the still glowing remains of the tiara in his jumper and had the bundle tucked under his arm. "Here. Want a pillow, Hermione?"

"No, I'll be fine," she replied, but flinched when Professor Flitwick conjured a brace for her leg and attached it with soft ropes.

"You careless children," Professor Flitwick chided. "I would have thought that two Quidditch players could get hold of someone on a bucking broomstick." He looked sternly at Ron and Harry.

"She was so fast," Ron whinged. "She went off on that broom like a mad Bludger. I had no idea that school brooms could fly that fast...."

"Be that as it may," Professor Flitwick said, "you two will now carry her to the hospital wing." He conjured a stretcher, levitated Hermione onto it and attached the stretcher between Harry and Ron's brooms. Then he summoned the spare broomstick, and they left the forest.

"Damn it, Hermione! You could have broken your neck." Ron was furious. Hermione was lying in her bed in the hospital ward. Madam Pomfrey had assured her that she would be as good as new the next morning, but she had to stay in the hospital wing overnight. Harry and Ron had gone to see Professor Price and postponed their first lesson until the next day.

When they came to the hospital wing to visit, Hermione had grinned at them, but Ron wasn't amused.

"I think you were brilliant, Hermione," Harry said. "You saved us from a lot of awkward questions.

"But she could have seriously harmed herself!" Ron yelled, his face pale and worried.

Hermione took his hand and squeezed it. "Nonsense, Ron. I knew what I was doing. It was a controlled jump, and from that height, I could have hardly injured myself seriously."

"You're nuts," Ron said, but a grin spread over his face. "Completely nuts, but in a brilliant way." He bent over her and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

Harry tactfully averted his eyes; then he took something out of the folds of his robes and gave it to Hermione. "Look at this...."

"She unwrapped the item carefully and found the tiara, untarnished, sparkling, looking like new.

"Is that...? How did you do this?"

"I didn't," Harry said. "I didn't need to do anything. When that glow finally ended, the tiara was like that. Some kind of self-repair, obviously."

"There must be some very, very strong protective charms on it––something that prevents its destruction. Or we haven't tried hard enough, yet. Harry, as long as it is this way, how can we be sure that this isn't still a Horcrux?"

"I don't know, Hermione. It's just a feeling. There's nothing Dark with this tiara, only very strong magic. I think a Horcrux should emit something Dark. Even if the soul isn't Dark per se... Just remember how malicious that diary was, what it did to Ginny. And the spell to create a Horcrux has to be one of the Darkest spells there is... No, Hermione, I very much doubt that this is a Horcrux."

Ron took the tiara and looked at it from all sides. "It is so beautiful. Wouldn't it be horrible to destroy something beautiful like this without needing to?"

"Yes," Hermione said and took his hand again. "But wouldn't that be exactly what Voldemort would want everyone to think? Everyone who found it, that is?––And what about the Dementors? Couldn't they have been part of the protection for the Horcrux?"

"I don't know," Harry replied. "They could have been. Or they could have been there by coincidence.... Price warned me earlier that there might be some. You know how they are out breeding in this weather?"

Hermione nodded. "They show up everywhere, as of late."

"That's what he said, too. You know how Dementors always seem to seek me out? Well, I just had a scare when my Shield Charm failed. My fear always seems the strongest; I'm always the one who nearly faints...." Harry's words were bitter. "So it could have been a coincidence."

"Hm." Hermione still looked unconvinced. "But how can we be certain?"

"We can't be; it's just a feeling. Look, none of the protective magic showed up as Dark. If there had been a spell to summon Dementors... And why Dementors? When that tiara must have been hidden, all the Dementors were in Azkaban and loyal to the Ministry. The tiara looked so old and tarnished... I just can't imagine that Voldemort would treat one of the Horcruxes so carelessly, especially as the one in Ron's Aunt Muriel's possession is sparkling and well kept," Harry said. "Besides, why would he hide it in the Room of Requirement if this really were a Horcrux? How did it get there anyway? Who could have hidden it for him there?"

"Snape, of course," Ron said. "Or any of the Slytherins."

"Not all of the Slytherins are Death Eaters, Ron," Hermione reminded him. "Perhaps Draco could have hidden it there, or someone older... Maybe his father. He used to come to Hogwarts from time to time, but why would he hide it here?"

"If it is a Horcrux, then hiding it at Hogwarts makes sense. We've already established that Hogwarts holds a special meaning for Voldemort, haven't we?" Harry reminded them.

"Yes, and Snape hiding it here is as good a guess as any––But didn't you just say that you don't think that it is a Horcrux?" Hermione whispered because there was a noise outside the hospital ward. "Perhaps it's an item he hasn't used yet and is saving for his final Horcrux?"

"Perhaps," Ron said thoughtfully. "And perhaps he wanted to use it and was prevented from doing so. Maybe he wanted to use it that night at Godric's Hollow, but he couldn't kill you, Harry. And when you reflected the Killing Curse, the tiara was damaged; that would explain why it looked so battered and tarnished. It only seems to self-repair when someone wants to destroy it."

"Brilliant, Ron," Hermione said excitedly. "And Snape found it there; he must have been at Godric's Hollow that night, too, the traitor, and he took it and hid it here for his master...."

"Actually," Ron said, "actually, I don't think it was Snape." He sighed when he saw the astonished expressions on Harry and Hermione's faces. "It must have been Wormtail. Don't you see? He had Voldemort's wand. Do you think he got it from Snape? I don't think so. I don't think Snape knew that Wormtail was alive, or that they communicated while Wormtail was in hiding. If they were... Well, wouldn't it have been much more convenient for Wormtail to hide with Snape instead of with my family?"

Harry and Hermione nodded.

"I think Wormtail didn't trust Snape. Voldemort didn't know if he'd turned traitor on him at that time, and nor did Wormtail. So I think that Wormtail went to Godric's Hollow, retrieved the wand, found the tiara and took both items with him. He was Percy's rat, so he would have had access to Hogwarts as soon as Percy went to school. That was in 1987..."

"I see where you're going, Ron," Hermione stepped in. "When Pettigrew was at Hogwarts, he would have needed a hiding place for Voldemort's wand, and maybe the tiara. What better place than the Room of Requirement? The room is Unplottable, but surely Wormtail would have known about the room since he was involved with the Marauders Map; I don't think something like the Room of Requirement would have stayed a secret to the Marauders.... That's brilliant, Ron! And if the tiara was hidden there all the time, without protection, then the likelihood that this is a Horcrux is low, indeed!"

Ron frowned. "I'm not certain. Wouldn't Pettigrew have told his master that he'd hidden the tiara there?"

"He might have," Harry said, "but could he have retrieved it for him?"

"Maybe he couldn't, but perhaps Snape, or Draco, or any of the other Voldemort supporters at the school could have." Hermione grimaced. "That brings us full circle; we still can't be certain."

"I still don't see why he would hide it in the Room of Requirement––at least three people found out about that room without help. Wouldn't it be a bit risky to hide it there again?"

"Maybe you're right, Harry... Maybe we can leave the tiara until we find other Horcruxes. Maybe we don't need to destroy..."

"What is this? Is this the Ravenclaw tiara?" While the three friends were immersed in their speculations, Professor Flitwick had entered the hospital wing and approached Hermione's bed. He stared down at the tiara in her hands in wonderment and surprise.

"Eh, er... Professor Flitwick, can we help you with something?" Hermione stammered.

"I wanted to see how you were faring, Miss Granger." Professor Flitwick smiled gently at her. "But tell me, where did you get this? Did Muriel Prewett give it to you? Why would she part with it?

Harry almost panicked. He really didn't want to lie to Professor Flitwick, but he couldn't possibly tell him about the Horcruxes. Flitwick wasn't even an Order member... Harry frowned. He wondered why he wasn't an Order member, and why wasn't Professor Sprout, too, for that matter? They were both Heads of House. He'd have thought that Dumbledore would have trusted each of them at least as much as he'd trusted Snape... But neither was in the Order.

A glance from the corner of his eye showed him that Ron looked embarrassed and Hermione had that innocent look of full concentration on her face that usually indicated that she was coming up with a wild, but believable, lie.

"This isn't the tiara belonging to Muriel Prewett," Hermione said, to his amazement. "This is a duplicate. We actually found it in the Room of Requirement, by accident. We haven't been able to access the room where we found it since. We were just wondering why anyone would make a duplicate and hide it there.... It's so beautiful. Fleur looked so lovely with it on, didn't you think?" She beamed at Flitwick.

"She did, she did, lovely woman...," Flitwick said absentmindedly, still staring at the tiara, spellbound. "This is an amazing story. May I look at it?"

Reluctantly, Hermione handed the tiara over to him, and he took it reverently. He touched it with his index finger, tracing the fragile frame and the pattern of sapphires and diamonds. He murmured a few words, and tiny bronze-coloured runes appeared on the silver part of the frame."

"This is genuine," Flitwick said. "By rights, this should belong to me, and Ravenclaw House, for I am the heir of Ravenclaw."

"Huh?" Ron, Harry and Hermione were equally baffled. "Shouldn't that be my Aunt Muriel? The Prewetts are the descendants of Rowena Ravenclaw." Ron added.

"Not in direct line," Flitwick said, "they aren't. But I am."

"You?" Again the three friends had spoken as one.

"Yes, me." The professor looked at them with an annoyed expression on his face. "I, the part-Goblin, am the heir of Ravenclaw. And it's not even a secret; everyone could know it, if anyone were interested...."

Hermione smiled. "That's fascinating, Professor. Why isn't that general knowledge? Ron's Aunt Muriel told us a legend about Rowena Ravenclaw and Geoffrey Lancaster's children. Was one of them your ancestor or ancestress?"

"That legend is, as most legends, only half-true. The person known as Geoffrey Lancaster wasn't human; he was a goblin with the name of Godefric the Liberal. Yes, yes, a founder married a goblin, how scandalous," he said ironically, for Harry, Ron and Hermione gaped and uttered small noises of disbelief, and maybe disgust.

"So there was a lot of marrying between goblins and humans?" Hermione said, trying to be supportive. "I wasn't aware of that...."

"Don't pretend not to be shocked, Miss Granger," Flitwick said kindly, though he was still mildly annoyed. "I'm used to this. It's part of the difficulties goblins and humans have with each other, and part of the reason for the Goblin Rebellions.... Believe it or not, goblins and humans do have a lot in common, and marriages aren't as rare as it appears. As I told you, my direct line can be traced back to Rowena Ravenclaw, but there was another goblin in my family, only a few generations back. Her name was Freya the Fruitful, and she was a woman of exceptional charms. Maybe that's why I became a Charms teacher." He winked at them, his earlier annoyance seemingly forgotten."

Hermione giggled. "Not only a Charms teacher, but head of Ravenclaw. It seems like you had your profession cut out for you."

Flitwick smiled. "Indeed, Miss Granger. And that's why this artefact here should have belonged to my house. It would have been kept as a treasure, just as the Gryffindor artefacts are kept as treasures by the Headmistress...."

"Erm... And you are certain that this is the genuine thing? Why didn't you go after the one Ron's Aunt Muriel has?" Hermione asked, clearly puzzled.

"I couldn't possibly take it away from them, could I? The Prewetts are descendants, albeit not in direct line. They always claimed that the tiara was genuine, and I wasn't in a position to challenge them. It's not as if I had been acknowledged as a relation, now, is it?" He smiled at Ron who stared at him.

"You mean we are related?" Ron gasped.

"Yes, remotely. We're probably cousins of some kind, several times removed. The tiara should have been passed down my line all along, but back in Rowena's time wizards were just as bigoted as they are today. The pureblood Salazar Slytherin left her, and the goblin she fell in love with wasn't good enough for her surroundings. This didn't impress her, though. She was an intelligent and enlightened woman and loved Godefric very much, and he her. They were the subject of many a goblin legend and love ballad... And those are ballads of great beauty, but among wizards, the story was smoothed over and soon forgotten."

"I don't understand..." Hermione shook her head. "Ron's dad is one of the most tolerant people I know... And Ron's aunt didn't strike me as bigoted either. Shouldn't they be aware of this?"

Flitwick smiled gently. "They may be more tolerant than most, but they are very traditional at the same time."

Ron blushed and nodded.

"And it's just as well now, anyway. I don't have any children; my wife died long ago, and I am too old and weak to protect the tiara as a treasure like that should be protected. Please, children, take good care of it and see to it that it is kept at Gringotts or some other safe place."

"Why do you call yourself weak, sir?" Hermione asked. "You're powerful in Charms; you're a renowned duellist...."

Flitwick laughed. "You haven't forgotten that little piece of information from Gilderoy Lockhart, have you, Miss Granger? I was strong once; I was a decent duellist and could hold my own against the best, but those times are over. I am old and weak, and the slightest excitement tires me out. In my prime, students like Mr. Longbottom could not have sent me flying across a room, and a stack of flying exam parchments wouldn't have knocked me off my feet like they have in recent years. Mind you, when I ran to the dungeons that night of the Death Eater attack, I'm ashamed to say that I just fainted dead away in Snape's office. I just can't stand too much agitation any more."

"You really fainted in Snape's office, then?" Hermione asked with a frown. "After what happened, I thought that Snape might have Stunned you and pretended to Luna and me that you'd fainted.... Are you sure that he didn't hex you?"

"Yes, I am. I may be old and weak, but I'm not blind or demented yet, Miss Granger. Snape looked at me, horrified and somewhat... resigned... when I told him what was happening, and then I felt how my knees went weak, and my vision faded.... I've fainted before, you know. I know how it feels."

"Oh, well, it doesn't really make much of a difference, does it?" Harry said. "So what should we do with the tiara then?"

"Let's get it back to the Burrow and talk to your parents, Ron; they may know how to best protect it, and if it's wise to tell your Aunt Muriel that her tiara isn't the genuine article after all," Hermione suggested.

"They're not back from their visit to Fleur's relatives, yet," Ron said. "They return in a few weeks, though, and Fleur and Bill will be back from their honeymoon by then, too. Let's talk to them then."

Both Harry and Hermione as well as Professor Flitwick agreed with this, and they left the hospital wing to give Hermione some time to rest and recover.