Harry gazed at the huge pile of stone rubble that reached for the destroyed ceiling in front of where the Room of Requirement was supposed to be. Instead, it was a crumbled wall, nearby sconces knocked askew. Across from it, the once humorous tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy trying to teach trolls to dance ballet had been shredded by falling stone and lay amongst the boulders and debris in tatters. He lifted his eyes to stare up at the gaping hole in the ceiling, his hands clenching into fists in his pockets.

As he took in the destruction, his mind travelled down to the infirmary. The devastation over Dean’s coma months earlier had only increased with Ginny’s, and his guilt was nearly as strong as his guilt over Sirius. He knew the risk associated with opening the Room of Requirement had been necessary—they had to find the diadem—but, now, with the uncertainty surrounding how to deal with the diadem, the consequences no longer felt worth it. How could losing more of Hogwarts and risking students be worth it when they were, yet again, trapped in place? How could their quest be right when they had no guarantee of saving those they loved?

“All who live through conflict question the righteousness of their cause.”

Harry turned at the voice, facing the endearingly kind face of Hogwarts with its soft smile. She was mostly solid-looking aside from the slight fuzziness and glow around her silhouette. She gazed at him gently with her blue eyes and her hands were clasped behind her back, her beautiful saree-like dress swaying around her feet. The red and yellow stones of her necklace glittered, the blue and green stones dulled with their lack of power.

“Does he?” Harry said, making it clear who he was referring to without the name.

Hogwarts just looked at him with a mixture of sadness and indulgence.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, pained. “I never wanted any of this.”

“No one does, my child,” Hogwarts said. “Pain is inevitable in life, in love.”

Harry turned to the wall, tears in his eyes. “I’m not sure I want it then. I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

“Peace will return upon your victory.”

Harry looked at her, heartbroken. “What if we’re not? What if we lose?”

Hogwarts smiled and brought a hand up to her partially glowing necklace. “I have faith in my children.”

Harry felt a light brush of air settle over him, a feeling of love and pride sinking into him. He gave her a small smile of his own.

“What happens then? Does all of this fix itself?” Harry asked, gesturing to the destruction behind him.

“Yes, I will be able to heal, as will all of you,” Hogwarts said, clasping her hands again. “I cannot wait to be amongst my children again.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “You? Like this?”

Hogwarts nodded. “To those who need me.”

Harry suddenly flashed back to second year, hidden in Hagrid’s hut with Ron. “Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it,” he recited.

Hogwarts looked at him with that mixed expression again.

“He pretended it was about him, but it was you,” Harry said and she smiled. “Have you over the years? Helped those who asked?”

“Where I could,” Hogwarts said.

Harry ran through his memories, remembering some strange and unexplainable moments with a smile.

“My mothers and fathers also cannot wait to be free and among you.”

Harry blinked at her. “I’m sorry?”

“It is how it once was, how it is meant to be,” Hogwarts said. “I am their pride and joy after all.”

“Are you saying the Founders are ghosts and they used to roam the school?” Harry said, dumbfounded.

“And they will again,” Hogwarts said.

“They’re still here?” Harry said, eyebrows jumping.

“Yes. They were sealed away decades ago and the loss of the swords harmed them,” Hogwarts said.

Harry looked at her curiously before realizing. “The portraits. They’re not just paintings. That’s why they can impact the castle.”

Hogwarts nodded.

Harry gave a little laugh of amazement, shaking his head slightly. “Can they and you help us fight?”

Hogwarts gave him that soft smile again. “To the very end, my child.”

Harry stared at the two names on the Marauder’s Map floating in the headmaster’s office. He fiddled with his bracelet pendant and chewed his lip, anxious to see Severus’ name leave the office. He and Severus were supposed to be at the Bronze Dragon by now and the fact that Dumbledore had kept Severus in a private meeting for so long had Harry’s anxiety skyrocketing.

“Calm yourself, Hero. The headmaster remains unaware.”

Harry turned to the large frame, looking up at Ravenclaw. “How do you know?”

“We have begun to move around the castle. Salazar is in the office now, observing and listening. Your father remains safe,” Ravenclaw said.

“He won’t stay that way,” Harry muttered and looked back at the map only to find Severus’ name heading away from the headmaster’s office. He hurried out to the main chamber and breathed a sigh of relief when Severus came from a tunnel to his right. He rushed forward and threw his arms around Severus’ neck, not caring that he was sixteen and the situation had truly not been that dire.

“I’m fine, Harry,” Severus said, wrapping a single arm around Harry’s torso.

“What did he want?” Harry asked, pulling away.

“Just an excuse of a reporting meeting to Legilimize me,” Severus said and Harry’s eyes widened. “He saw nothing. Have some faith in me.”

“I do!” Harry said, huffing at his father’s smirk. “I’m just…he’s suspicious.”

“Yes, he is,” Severus said. “There is little more we can do about that.”

Harry dropped his eyes with a frown. He knew Severus was right, but it didn’t make him any less anxious about everything they were doing.

“Come, we have an appointment to keep,” Severus said.

Harry nodded and they headed down a recently opened tunnel that they discovered led to a cave just to the east of Hogsmeade. It was a long, mostly uphill trek, but also the safest way out of the castle. They were silent as they walked though, every now and then, Severus lightly touched the small of his back, either to comfort him or keep him moving. It was about twenty-five minutes later that they were heaving on a solid stone wall. It gave after several moments, a jagged cut-out of a doorway in the center of the wall. They slipped through, the door swinging seamlessly back into place, and hurried out of the cave. They found the small, barely-there footpath and followed it to the lights in the distance just a few kilometers away. They weaved through the empty village to the southern outskirts, ducking inside the Bronze Dragon with a touch of relief. Severus guided him to the usual table and they sat across from Riddle who, this time, had tea on the table.

“I was beginning to believe the worst,” Riddle said.

“Things aren’t exactly getting easier,” Harry said somewhat bitterly.

“Yes, of course,” Riddle said, bowing his head slightly. “My apologies.”

“Dumbledore is suspicious and watching us closely,” Severus said. “I have been subjected to much Legilimency in the past few weeks.”

“I am certainly glad you have the skill you do with the magic branch,” Riddle said and Severus inclined his head in acknowledgement of the praise.

“We’re trying to move fast, but we can only do so much,” Harry said. “Just trying to figure out where to look for anything is taking days and weeks.”

Riddle nodded, understanding, and curled his hands around his teacup. “I know and I am grateful for all you are doing, and I appreciate the risks you are taking. However, I believe that is why we are here this evening?”

Harry glanced at Severus who gave him a tiny nod and he pulled the diadem from his pocket, placing it on the table. They watched as Riddle reached out slowly, his slender hand trembling slightly as he carefully picked up the precious item. Upon contact, a shiver seemed to run through the man’s body. Harry couldn’t help but worry giving Riddle the horcruxes would turn him into the mad wizard from his memories, albeit false ones.

“Dumbledore sent me after this,” Harry said, pushing aside his concerns. “He’s expecting me to bring it to him so he can destroy it.”

“Which we cannot allow, of course,” Riddle said, still holding the diadem up to eye level.

“Exactly,” Harry said. “Is it possible to make a replica that I can pass off? It has to feel the same or he’ll know it’s a fake.”

Riddle hummed. “A complex task. I am unsure.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, anxious and frustrated. If Riddle couldn’t do this, they were completely screwed. Dumbledore would immediately know something was wrong and they would be destroyed in any manner of ways. He glanced out the window beside him at the dark village to try and keep his emotions under control. It wasn’t Riddle’s fault if nothing could be done. They would just have to think of something else.

“I may be able to do something that could make a replica possible,” Riddle said and Harry looked back at him.

He watched as Riddle hovered one hand beside the diadem and frowned as the item shimmered and what seemed to be thick black smoke began to seep from the crown. Riddle dropped his hand after only a few seconds and the smoke sank back into the diadem. Harry looked at him curiously.

“I can infuse a replica with the magic that infects this,” Riddle said. “The magic is the darkness that encompasses the diadem, not the soul fragment within.”

Harry found the comment fascinating. It was the magic that was dark, not the man.

“Will that work?” he asked. “What will happen when it’s destroyed?”

“I am uncertain. I have never attempted this,” Riddle said.

“But it’s the only option we’ve got,” Harry said with a sigh and Riddle nodded.

Riddle put the diadem to the side and placed a small satchel on the table instead. “First, you require these ingredients. I was able to get everything you asked for.”

Severus pulled the satchel to him and Harry watched him examine each of the nearly one dozen ingredients. After just a few seconds, Severus stopped his examination and nodded at Riddle. “Thank you.”

“I am glad you have a safer way to deal with the Mind Magic,” Riddle said. He grabbed the diadem again.

“Is there anything he could possibly do, even with a replica?” Harry asked, nervous destruction may not be Dumbledore’s only goal.

“All magic can be controlled and manipulated,” Riddle said. “There are many things he could do.”

Harry frowned. “Should we risk it?”

“We truly have no other choice,” Riddle said and Harry’s frown deepened at the bitter truth. “Do either of you have something to transfigure into a copy?”

Severus pulled out an empty vial from a random pocket and placed it on the table. Riddle pulled his wand and Harry tensed involuntarily. He knew the truth, but he still remembered Dumbledore’s fake memories and he remembered the numerous times that wand had supposedly been pointed at him.

He looked at Severus when the man put a hand on his knee, giving him a questioning look. He gave his father a small smile, receiving a squeeze to his leg before the hand was removed and he returned his attention to Riddle. As he refocused, he looked at the wand again and was stunned to see it was not exactly the wand he remembered. This wand was a pale, almost white wood with a slight bend to it and an intricate black and grey handle. There was no bone in sight.

He relaxed a little, able to watch Riddle change the vial into an exact copy of Ravenclaw’s diadem. It was precise, down to the smallest details. Riddle examined it closely before holding it with his left hand and hovering his right palm centimeters from it.

Harry watched, intrigued, as the same kind of thick black smoke that had been pulled from the horcrux began to leave Riddle’s hand. It swirled around the replica diadem, making small spots shimmer as though testing it for something. Enough of the smoky magic wrapped around the diadem, nearly concealing it from view. It wasn’t until the magic began to absorb into the diadem that he realized exactly what he was seeing.

Pure dark magic.

Harry sat back, feeling the need for some distance between him and Riddle. He realized that he’d let himself forget the things Riddle had done. Sure, he knew Riddle had been compelled to pursue dark magic and create the horcruxes, but he had still done the things required to achieve those things.

He had committed murder, multiple times. He had used the darkest magic that existed to split his soul and infect items with the result. Finally allowing himself to think about it, he found himself unsettled.

“That should do it,” Riddle said, placing the diadem on the table and pushing it across. Looking at the man, Harry couldn’t help but think Riddle knew exactly what he’d been thinking and feeling.

Harry reached across the table and picked up the replica, avoiding Riddle’s gaze. He grimaced inadvertently at the slick, oily feeling nearly leaking off the thing. He put it down quickly, hating to endure the essence for too long.

“Yeah, it feels the same,” Harry said. “What’ll happen when it’s destroyed?”

“I’ll likely have some impact on my magic, but it should not be anything too serious,” Riddle said.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest with a frown. “I have a bad feeling about this plan.”

“We are open to other suggestions,” Severus said and Harry scowled.

“You know I don’t have any, but that doesn’t mean I like this one,” Harry said. He looked at Riddle. “Dumbledore’s hidden the horcruxes in places that mean something to you.”

“Places with meaning to me or to Voldemort?” Riddle said and Harry frowned.

“I don’t know,” Harry said, sighing. “We don’t know where to go next with the swords either. We’re trapped.”

“No, not trapped,” Riddle said, shaking his head. “You and your friends have done wonderfully. You have hit a wall, but we can get past it. I will think of possible locations for both horcruxes and swords, and I will share any ideas I come up with.”

Harry sighed and nodded. It would have to be enough.

“We must return,” Severus said, touching Harry’s shoulder.

Harry nodded again and got to his feet. Riddle placed the diadem replica in a burlap pouch and held it out for Harry to take.

“Thank you,” Riddle said quietly but earnestly as Harry took the pouch. Their eyes met and Harry inclined his head, feeling he was able to push past what had bothered him just moments before. Riddle had done awful, dark things, but he thought of what Riddle had said about the horcrux: the magic was dark, not the soul. Riddle could use dark magic, but Riddle himself was not dark. His soul, even split, was pure enough that he was a Hero of Hogwarts and Dumbledore’s longest victim. Giving Riddle a tiny tilt of his lips, he followed his father back to Hogwarts.

The next day found Harry standing before the griffin statue that would bring him to the headmaster’s office. He stared down at the burlap pouch in his hands, fiddling with the drawstrings nervously. He didn’t know what to expect when he gave the diadem replica to Dumbledore, but he was anxious. They were putting a lot of faith in Riddle and taking a huge risk with Dumbledore. If he sensed anything about the replica, they were doomed. The horcrux copy could be what revealed everything.

He blew out a deep breath and stepped onto the spiral stairs, muttering the password. He stepped off at the top and knocked on the door, bringing up his strongest mental shields and praying they would be enough.

“Enter.”

He closed his eyes briefly in dread before pushing into the office. He suppressed a shudder, finding it harder and harder to be around the headmaster. He hated having to keep playing along with the man’s sick game, putting all of their lives at risk. Though, he did prefer to be the one in front of Dumbledore right then so none of his friends had to face extra danger.

“Harry, what a surprise,” Dumbledore said in that overly kind voice and large smile that Harry could hardly believe he’d never seen through. “How can I help you, my boy?”

Holding back a look of disgust, he walked up to the desk and held out the pouch. “I’ve found something that should interest you. It was in the castle, as you suspected.”

He dropped the pouch on the desk and watched as the headmaster grabbed it. He hoped his tension wasn’t visible. The pouch was opened and a wrinkled hand disappeared inside, pulling out the shiny, silver diadem. Harry swallowed thickly, watching the headmaster examine the diadem from every angle. After several seconds, the blue eyes moved to him, sparkling with what Harry now knew was corruption and evil, not happiness and approval. Harry met the eyes steadily and waited. There was a small prod of Legilimency and he allowed the memory of the Room of Requirement to play, but concealed everything about Draco being a part of it.

“Excellent work, my boy,” Dumbledore praised. “You can feel Voldemort’s evil on it, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said. “I can feel the dark magic. It effects my scar as well,” he added, knowing any connection to Voldemort should hurt as per the lie. He was still meant to be convinced his scar connected him to Voldemort and caused him pain whenever Voldemort did something.

“An unfortunately sure way to confirm authenticity,” Dumbledore said.

“So, what do we do with it now?” Harry asked, a part of him loudly wondering if Dumbledore knew it was a fake.

“It must be destroyed if you are to kill him,” Dumbledore said and Harry fought to keep the scowl off his face at the reference to the fake prophecy. Clearly it had always been Dumbledore’s plan to tie him to the prophecy, convince him its fulfillment was all that mattered.

“How do we do that?” Harry asked.

Dumbledore stood and, waving Harry on to follow him, he walked to the back of his office. It wasn’t a part of the office Harry had ever been to and found it cluttered with shelves and odd instruments and little tables littered with all manner of items. Harry followed the man to a stone pedestal, not too different from what the Goblet of Fire had sat on, only smaller and with less intricate designs. He could make out strange runes arranged in odd, but likely telling ways. On top of the flat, octagonal surface was an intricate, delicate-looking golden hourglass with odd black and white wisps swirling inside, and what looked like a velvet pillow. It was an odd set-up, but Harry didn’t like the feeling he got deep inside as they approached. He watched as the diadem was placed on the pillow.

“It is difficult and dangerous to destroy a horcrux, my boy,” Dumbledore said.

Harry had to stop himself from scowling. He really wished the man would stop calling him that.

“The magic must be removed before the horcrux and, by extension, the soul fragment can be destroyed. If the magic is left in the horcrux, it allows the soul fragment to survive destruction and search for a new host,” Dumbledore explained and Harry really wished he knew more about horcruxes so he knew if the man was telling the truth or not. “This hourglass neutralizes and holds dark magic, necessary for such powerful magic as this.”

Harry stepped closer to examine the hourglass. The metal that wound around the hourglass, creating its bases and handles, was made of shiny gold and cut into what looked like braided ropes twisted together elegantly. The glass itself had what looked like very lightly frosted runes all over, but not enough to hide the glimmer, almost smoke-like black and white wisps that snaked up and down through both ends of the hourglass. He felt a tug in his chest and frowned. There was definitely something odd about the hourglass. Not something bad, but something extraordinarily important in the hands of someone extraordinarily evil.

Harry looked sidelong at Dumbledore, more unsettled than before.

“I believe your assistance will be helpful in this matter,” Dumbledore said.

Harry frowned at him.

“Because of your connection with Voldemort, you will be able to help draw the magic into the hourglass,” Dumbledore said. “All you need to do is place your hand on top of the hourglass. I and the magic will do the rest.”

Harry was sure he didn’t believe a word the man had said, but knew he couldn’t refuse. It would be far too suspicious if he refused to be a part of this or do as Dumbledore asked. He didn’t know what was going to happen, but he knew it wouldn’t be good. However, it was necessary. So, he nodded and placed his palm on top of the hourglass, instantly feeling a strange hum. Dumbledore gave him a smile that he once would have returned, but now made his stomach twist. He watched the headmaster hover his hands on either side of the diadem and begin murmuring under his breath. The same thick, black smoke he’d watched Riddle manipulate began to leave the diadem and, as soon as it started moving towards the hourglass, pain exploded in Harry’s head and chest.

He let out a cry that turned into a gasp as it began to feel like he couldn’t breathe. He made to move his hand from the hourglass, but found he was inexplicably stuck. He fell to his knees, his arm craned awkwardly above him as his hand still refused to release the hourglass. He screamed between gasps for air, his chest continuing to pulse with pain and agony ripping through his scar. His free hand curled against the stone and tears hovered in the corner of his eyes. He so badly wanted to scream for Severus, for his father, wanting a release from the pain, but he remained just coherent enough to hold back.

He had no idea how long it lasted, but, eventually, it all stopped and he collapsed more fully to the floor as his hand came free from the hourglass. There was still a lingering ache in his chest as he heaved in air and a sharp sting in his scar.

Hands cupped his face and he immediately flinched violently, wanting release. The hands held, however, and his head was forced up, eyes guided to those of the headmaster. He instantly felt the prod of Legilimency and fought the presence. Dumbledore dodged his ejection attempts, rooting through his thoughts and memories, fuzzy from whatever had just happened. He threw up mini shields anytime the man seemed to focus, only for Severus to flash in his mind. Terrified, Harry slammed up his walls despite his exhaustion and threw Dumbledore out of his mind, dropping his head, both in pain and to prevent more Legilimency. He could feel himself shaking, a combination of all that had just happened. He needed to get out, needed to get to the others…to Severus. He may have just screwed up everything for them.

“How are you feeling, my boy?” Dumbledore asked, moving his hands to Harry’s shoulders as though he hadn’t just invaded Harry’s mind and encountered walls that hadn’t been there before.

How badly he wanted to shove the man away from him. He couldn’t take much more of this. He took a shuddering breath and forced himself back into his role.

“What…what happened?” he gasped out. “Is it gone?”

“Yes, it is destroyed,” Dumbledore said. “It put up a fight and tried to draw strength from you or perhaps get you to save it. That caused the pull you likely felt. The pain was having his magic touch you. It acts much like his physical touch.”

Harry wanted to snort at the fact that Dumbledore truly had his story covering all the bases. The man was an evil bastard, but he’d created a truly complex, all-encompassing story for the reality he’d made. He pushed it aside to stay in his role, sitting up and finally dislodging the headmaster’s hands.

“I’m alright, sir,” Harry said. “I’m just glad it worked.” That’s what Dumbledore would be looking for; him willing to go through anything to achieve Voldemort’s end.

Dumbledore smiled at him. “As am I, my boy. Good work on deducing its location.”

“Places that matter to him, right?” Harry said and Dumbledore nodded. “Have you found any others?”

“Not yet, but I believe I may be close on another,” Dumbledore said and Harry’s eyes widened slightly. “I will tell you once I am sure.”

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said and he climbed shakily to his feet. He glanced at the pedestal. The diadem was in tiny pieces on the velvet pillow and there was a marked increase in both black and white wisps in the hourglass. They were also moving more vigorously. He winced at the slight pull he felt again in his still aching chest. “Um, I…I think I should go, Professor. Get…get some rest.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Dumbledore said. “I thank you for your assistance. On your way now, my boy.”

“Yes, sir. Good night,” Harry said, leaving the office as fast as possible without being suspicious. As soon as the griffin turned enough that he could slip off the stairs, dashing down the corridor and through the school. He raced down stairs and corridors, skidding onto the fourth floor where a huge mirror hung in a dead end. He was grateful they’d finally managed to clear the fourth and last entrance into the Chamber of Secrets. He stood in front of the mirror, gazing at himself in its foggy reflection for a split second.

‘Reveal,’ he hissed and watched the reflective surface shimmer and tremble, becoming a deep blue with a jelly-like consistency in appearance. He glanced around and stepped through, feeling the cool, softened glass slide along him as he passed. Once through and in the hidden corridor, the mirror turned back to normal, showing the other side like a window.

Harry took a minute to catch his breath and try to calm down, knowing he would only cause panic if he showed he was panicking. He touched his bracelet’s pendant and pushed a bit of magic into it to write his message and send it to the correct recipient.

DAD!

He frowned slightly. Apparently, his magic had interpreted his emotions more than his thoughts. Severus was definitely going to panic now.

Sighing to himself, he started walking. The corridor was long and winding and on a fairly steep decline for most of it. Eventually, it ended, turning into two branching tunnels. To the right was yet another passage to Hogsmeade while the left led to the Chamber. He turned to the left, the tunnel quickly making it clear he was now deep beneath the castle. It soon changed again to match the Chamber’s tunnels and he was finally emerging into the main chamber through a path guarded by the snake statues that lined the start of the Chamber. He walked up, watching Slytherin come into view as well as a frantically pacing Severus.

He sighed again and approached his father, fully expecting the rough grab and shake of his shoulders that he received.

“Dad, I’m okay,” he tried.

“What happened?” Severus growled, eyes raking Harry up and down.

“Dumbledore destroyed the diadem,” Harry said. “He did something, though, like what Riddle did. He pulled the magic out of the diadem and put it in this hourglass that he made me touch. It hurt a lot, my scar and my chest, and he Legilimized me. He…he saw you! In my mind! I…I tried, but it hurt so much and I was so…drained!” His panic had returned by the time he finished and his fingers were like claws in Severus’ forearms. Ironically, while his panic returned, Severus’ seemed to have eased.

“Come, child,” Severus said quietly and forced Harry to release him. He draped an arm around Harry’s shoulders and guided him to the Founders’ Library, sitting them on the sofa. He turned them to face each other, letting a hand rest on Harry’s still shaking knee, though he hadn’t actually noticed the shaking. “Calm yourself so you can tell me everything.”

Harry nodded and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and covering his face with his hands. Severus’ hand moved to his back, a warm, steady weight that helped him focus. He took a few deep breaths, trying to settle his breathing and shaking, wincing at the slight pains he still felt. Finally, he felt calmer and raised his head.

“Better?” Severus asked and he nodded. “Good, now, tell me what happened.”

“He destroyed the diadem, but, before he did, he took the magic out of it, like what Riddle did. He said the magic had to be removed or, when a horcrux is destroyed, the soul piece uses the magic to attach to another host. He put the magic into a weird hourglass which he made me touch, said my connection to Voldemort meant I could help guide the magic into the hourglass. It hurt, though, a lot,” Harry explained. “Whatever he did, it made my scar hurt like in the graveyard and the possession. My chest hurt, too, and it was hard to breathe. He Legilimized me after and I…I couldn’t keep him out. I tried, but he saw you before I could throw him out. I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Do not apologize. You were weakened by whatever he did to you. Did he see anything specific?” Severus asked, placing his hand over Harry’s clasped ones, stopping their wringing.

“I don’t think so,” Harry said. “I think it was just a flash.”

“It could mean anything to him then,” Severus said. “Me being on your mind is not suspicious in and of itself.”

Harry nodded, knowing Severus was right, about that at least. “We need to talk to Riddle again. The hourglass…Dad, something’s wrong. Really wrong.”

“We will write him,” Severus said. “How are you feeling?” He raised a hand and brushed Harry’s hair aside, lightly touching the scar.

“A little better,” Harry said. “Nothing hurts much anymore, but I feel a little weird from whatever he did with the hourglass.”

“Weird how?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. It felt like something was…pulling inside my chest, and there’s still a slight tugging and I feel drained.”

Severus’ face grew grave which did nothing to keep Harry’s nerves calm. “I agree. We must meet with Riddle. Come.”

Harry jumped up and followed Severus to the Mind Room. He instantly scrawled a message in the communication journal.

Urgent. Need to meet ASAP.

“I think we should give him a bracelet,” Harry said as they waited anxiously for a response. “We need to be able to talk to him quicker now. There’s too much going on now and I think he’s proven we can trust him.”

“I suppose he has,” Severus said, “and I do have all my memories. He has, indeed, been trying to help all these years. Very well, I will make another.”

Harry gave him a small smile and turned back to the journal where a response had appeared.

The Dragon in one hour. Are you safe?

Harry wasn’t sure how to feel about Riddle’s apparent concern for them.

Unsure, he quickly scrawled.

Thirty minutes then.

“Half hour at the Dragon,” he said, dropping the quill and turning to his father who was just finishing up putting a Galleon on a string. “He seems worried.”

“I imagine he does not enjoy having so little he can do knowing the risks we must take,” Severus said. “Remember, he has been trying to deal with this alone for fifty years.”

“Right,” Harry said. He frequently forgot Riddle’s true age as the horcruxes had stopped his aging, making him appear only about twenty-five or thirty at the oldest.

“Come on,” Severus said, putting the bracelet in his pocket and grasping Harry’s shoulder to guide him from the Mind Room.

They hurried through one of the passages to Hogsmeade, making a direct beeline for the Bronze Dragon upon their arrival. Despite being earlier than the arranged thirty minutes, Riddle was already there at their usual table. There was far less anxiety sliding into their seats across from him now than there used to be. Harry did find it interesting and odd, though, that there was never anyone else in the pub except the bartender.

“Something has happened,” Riddle said, looking at them with very clearly concerned eyes.

Severus nodded and gestured for Harry to speak.

“I gave the diadem to Dumbledore and he destroyed it,” Harry said.

“I felt a pull on my magic, so I assumed that’s what had happened,” Riddle said.

“He did something, though, before destroying it,” Harry said and Riddle looked at him curiously. “He pulled the magic out of it and put it in this hourglass that he—”

“Hourglass?” Riddle said sharply.

Harry frowned. “Yeah, an hourglass.”

Riddle waved his hand over the tabletop and a drawing appeared, etched into the wood. “Did it look like this?” he asked, pointing at his drawing.

Harry looked. “Yeah, exactly like that. How do you—”

“He made you touch it and you felt pain in your chest?” Riddle said.

Harry’s frown deepened. “Yes.”

Riddle waved his hand again and the drawing disappeared. His face was suddenly extremely tight. “It would seem we have a new problem, possibly worse than what we already face.”

Harry looked at Severus, alarmed. “What else could there possibly be?”

“Dumbledore is apparently trying to replace the Founders’ magic at Hogwarts,” Riddle said and Harry’s eyes widened. “That is what the hourglass does. It combines magic and holds it, and is used to replenish or replace the magic that sustains Hogwarts. The magic of four people is combined and creates a magic with specific intent based on what the ‘base’ or ‘foundation’ witch or wizard wants.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Harry demanded. “And what about the core, the swords?”

“The Founders combined their magic to create the specific magic of Hogwarts. This magic makes Hogwarts into what they wanted the school to be,” Riddle explained.

“Home,” Harry said and Riddle nodded.

“Which is why the magic at Hogwarts has always been to help and protect,” Riddle said. “However, Dumbledore could replace that magic with his own creation and intent. If Dumbledore were to do this, the swords would no longer matter. The hourglass created the intent for Hogwarts, but the swords tie the magic to the school. Dumbledore would have to tie the magic he creates to objects the way the Founders did the swords.”

“Control,” Severus said and Riddle nodded again.

“You said four people were needed,” Harry said. “Who is doing this with him?”

“The other participants are not voluntary, which will only make his specific magic creation stronger,” Riddle said. “We have each been marked by him and exist alongside him as the most powerful wizards alive.”

“But how?” Harry said. “How can he make us be involved?”

“Our marks,” Riddle said. “He can use them to pull our magic from us. Anytime he has used our marks, he has drained some of our magic, enough that it replenishes on its own and we haven’t noticed. This has likely been a backup plan of his for some time, a contingency if it were ever needed.”

“Why hasn’t he replaced the magic then if he knew he could?” Harry asked.

“He likely does not have enough of our magic and he would have wanted to keep Hogwarts feeling the same so no one noticed what was happening,” Riddle said. “He will wait for the right moment now and use our marks to drain us of our magic.”

“How will we know?”

“When the pain in our marks becomes unbearable.”

Harry put his head in his hands, hardly able to believe the newest development. “Why? Why would he do this? He’s had the Founders’ magic under his control all this time.”

“Because the Founders’ magic is failing and that would not be a problem if Hogwarts’ magic was his magic.”

“The ultimate control,” Severus said. “He would never have to worry about what is currently happening again.”

Harry looked up as a horrifying realization crashed over him. “Does this mean…does he…know?”

Riddle met his eyes, brown hard and serious. “It is very likely.”