Harry tried to ignore the fact that he could hear his heart pounding in his ears as he led the way through the tunnel, his companions silent and tense behind him. Knowing how closely Dumbledore was watching them made their excursions, especially together, extremely risky. However, it was necessary. It was about time all four of them met together and worked together.

He lifted the trapdoor like last time and made sure the pub was empty before climbing out. He held it open as Snape and Malfoy followed.

Taking the secret passage he had cleared seemed to be the only way to get all three of them out of the castle. He would have taken the Honeydukes passage, but it had been sealed with magic, presumably by the headmaster. The Three Broomsticks passage, however, had always been caved in since his parents’ time and he knew Dumbledore didn’t watch it because of that fact; at least, he hoped.

They all swept out of the pub and down the road to the Bronze Dragon, slipping inside. Finding Riddle to be the only patron just like the other times, they walked over to his corner. Harry and Malfoy slid into the chairs already there while Snape dragged one over from another table. Once settled, they all looked up and met each other’s eyes.

The moment their gazes connected, all four of them were awash with intense power, its pressure pushing on their chests and a warmth filling their bodies. The pressure was becoming suffocating when it and the warmth finally subsided, leaving them gasping and with a stinging tingle on their right upper forearms. They all pulled back their sleeves to discover a thin gold line and silver line had appeared on either side of the black line they all already had. They glanced at each other. Something about the four heroes coming together for the first time had caused the new lines to appear.

Harry shoved his sleeve down. The tattoo wasn’t important. “We have very little time, so let’s get into this. We know which tests goes with which sword, but we don’t know which sword we each have to go after, and, if we’re wrong, someone will die.”

“It will be based on what Dumbledore has done to each of us and taken from each of us,” Riddle said.

“Yeah, that’s what you said, but he did the same thing to all of us, took the same things from all of us,” Harry argued.

“That is true, but we each have one thing that he focused on for each of us,” Riddle said, making the others frown in confusion. “He needed there to be one thing that we yearned for so much we would do anything.”

None of the others responded, unsure they understood.

“When I became his first target of Mind Magic, I became obsessed with the Dark Arts, in particular, the value of life as it related,” Riddle explained. “I no longer cared about the life of others, only my own. I felt I’d had a meaningless life and I grew desperate to change that. So, I made horcruxes, to both extend my life and to tie it to objects I deemed important. I didn’t want to leave behind nothing, so I prevented death from being an option. I refused to accept my life for what it was, so I became immortal to create a life I could accept. Only, I broke the Mind Magic and came to realize this life I had created at his hand was even more shameful than the life I came from.”

“So, your sword is the Sword of Slytherin,” Harry said. “Your test will be to accept life.”

Riddle inclined his head. “In whatever manner that ends up being.”

“What about the others?” Malfoy asked, skeptical.

Riddle looked at him. “You have some…issues in regards to your father and your upbringing.”

Malfoy frowned. “Don’t we all?”

“Yes, but you have grown up being taught to think and believe one way, and that everything related to how he has taught you these things is right and acceptable,” Riddle said.

Harry looked at the boy, remembering their strange conversation in the Astronomy Tower a few nights before. Malfoy was still frowning and staring steadily at Riddle, but seemed to have stiffened, coming to understand what Riddle was saying.

“You must learn the truth about your father and yourself,” Riddle said.

“Ravenclaw’s sword is about discovering truth,” Harry said.

Riddle nodded. “And Ravenclaw’s sword belongs to Draco.” He turned his gaze on Snape. “I am surprised you have not guessed at which sword is yours.”

“I have, but I do not believe it is accurate,” Snape said guardedly.

Harry thought about the remaining swords and their tests: Hufflepuff’s and feeling love, and Gryffindor’s and defeating fear.

“No?” Riddle said lightly as though surprised. “You have lacked love your whole life because of Dumbledore. He left you with unloving parents, took away your only friend, took away the boys you came to claim as your own, and convinced you that not only would loving anyone put you in danger, but also that no one could ever love you because of the things you’ve done.”

Harry glanced at Snape. The professor’s face was tight and some emotion was flashing in his dark eyes. He felt a tug in his head as Riddle spoke, but ignored it and returned his gaze to Riddle.

“Hufflepuff’s sword belongs to you,” Riddle said before letting his eyes travel to meet Harry’s. “Which, fittingly, leaves you with the Sword of Gryffindor.”

His test was to ‘defeat fear’? What did that even mean? He was reminded of Lupin’s observation after the Boggart that what Harry feared was fear itself. He’d never truly understood and, quite frankly, he still didn’t even all these years later.

“What is the one thing you have never felt in your life?” Riddle asked.

Still staring into the brown eyes across from him, Harry replayed every emotion he’d ever felt in his sixteen years. “Safe,” he finally admitted, both out loud and to himself. He felt an ache in his heart at the acknowledgement.

Riddle nodded, his face gentle. “Whether you were aware or not, you have always been afraid because you have always been in danger with no one to truly help you. Due to this, you have also become afraid of the fear you feel, afraid of what happens and how you feel when you are afraid.”

Harry frowned at him.

“Alone,” Riddle said and Harry felt a jolt in his heart at the truth of what Riddle was saying. “You feel alone which you fear above all else and that is what Dumbledore has made sure you are so that you would do anything he wanted in order to not feel so alone.”

They fell silent in the face of their trauma, trauma caused by Dumbledore to make them who they were.

The tattoo on their arms pulsed as they accepted the discovery of who would wield each sword.

“Hey, listen to this,” Ron said, sitting up and getting Harry and Hermione’s attention. “’Very often, if Mind Magic has been used consistently for an extended period of time, real memories become trapped behind the magic. Legilimency can be used, but it is dangerous and can take years. Due to this, a more efficient method of retrieving memories lost to Mind Magic was created. Inaccurately named as it has nothing to do with dreaming, ‘Dream Chasing’ can be used to retrieve memories. Because memories are hidden in the unconscious by Mind Magic, it is vital that the method of retrieval also accesses the unconscious. Dream Chasing puts one into an unconscious state and allows them to travel past the boundary between conscious and unconscious. There they can move through any hidden memories. Though they are not dreams, the mind thinks they are and so does not alert the magic to protective needs. Believing the memories to be dreams also allows for a smoother replacement of the falsified memories. While risk of overload and coma is still present, it is a lower risk and can be nearly nullified if completing the process with a trusted person as they can assist with confusion, assimilation, and magic spikes. Note, Dream Chasing can also be used to identify and interact with magical connections’.”

“So, there is a safer way,” Hermione said.

Ron nodded. “It seems complicated though. There’s a potion and a spell.”

Hermione reached for the book and Ron handed it to her. She scanned the potion and spell, her mouth turning into a serious frown.

“This is far too advanced, even for me,” she said.

“What about Snape?” Ron suggested.

“The potion, absolutely, and likely the spell as well, but we have to have complete trust in him and we can’t do it to him, so he would be unable to do this himself,” Hermione said.

“We might be somewhat cloudy from the Mind Magic still, but I think even I’ve got some trust in the guy by now,” Ron said. “He’s already been inside my head a dozen times.”

“Even so, none of us could perform the spell successfully on him,” Hermione said. “We can’t expect him to do this for us with nothing in return.”

“I say we ask him,” Ron said with a shrug.

“He would probably still help us. He already has been,” Harry said. “Does it say how it can be used for magical connections?”

Hermione shook her head.

“You think you could use it on your scar?” Ron asked and Harry nodded.

“I need Dumbledore out of my head,” Harry said. “One of us needs to learn the spell. We have to break Dumbledore’s connection to Snape too.”

“I don’t know if we can,” Hermione said. “It’s extremely complex, not something many wizards could ever do.”

“We have to try,” Harry said. “He’s a hero. We can’t just leave him under Dumbledore’s control. Who knows what he’d do to Snape.”

Neither Ron or Hermione could respond as their bracelets suddenly grew warm. Looking at the pendant, they saw a message.

Meet ASAP. Emergency.

The three of them looked at each other in concern, wondering what was going on. It wasn’t long before they heard footsteps echoing in the tunnels and they dashed out to meet the others in the main Chamber. Ginny, Seamus, Neville, Luna, and Dennis hurried towards them from the various entrances. They all looked confused except for Seamus.

Something had happened.

“We have a problem,” Seamus said. “Dean was called to see Dumbledore and now he’s in the Hospital Wing. He’s in a coma.”

Some of them gasped and the others stared with wide eyes.

“What happened?” Neville asked.

Seamus shrugged helplessly, shaking his head.

“He used Legilimency on me the other day,” Harry said. “I stopped him from seeing anything, but maybe Dean couldn’t.”

They were all quiet as they considered what the headmaster could have done to Dean, was likely willing to do to all of them to keep control.

“We need to find the swords,” Harry said. “He’ll end up killing someone.”

“But we have no clue where any of them are. It’s not something we can find in a book,” Hermione said, frustrated that her books were failing her.

“They’ll be in places that are important to him,” Harry said.

“But we don’t even know him,” Ginny pointed out. “How are we supposed to know what matters to him?”

“The game is what matters to him,” Harry said.

“The four of you matter to him,” Luna said. “As his players, you matter.”

“So, things that happened to you,” Neville said.

“Places that matter to you?” Ron suggested.

“The only place that’s mattered to all of us is Hogwarts,” Harry said.

“I can bet one of the swords is still here in the castle,” Ginny said. “He would’ve needed one to keep Hogwarts’ magic as stable as he has for so long.”

“This is also the game board, so to speak,” Luna said. “It’s important to all of you and him.”

“But, which one and where?” Harry asked.

“They’re right,” Ron said, his tone full of realization. “There’s been one here the whole time. You used it once.”

“Gryffindor’s sword,” Harry said, understanding Ron’s tone and Ron nodded. “But, Hogwarts said he hid it. How do we find where he put it?”

“Something has to be different somewhere,” Seamus said.

“That kind of power, we’d have to be able to feel it,” Neville said.

“She’s weak, though, so probably not anymore,” Luna said.

Harry ran a hand through his messy hair, frustrated and desperate. He wanted Snape and Malfoy there to help. They could always think more clearly and logically. He knew Snape was teaching, but wondered where Malfoy was. He knew the Slytherin had a free period after lunch on Thursdays like he did. He spun around to stare up at Salazar Slytherin watching over them.

Dumbledore couldn’t know who Hogwarts’ four heroes were. If he knew about the heroes at all, he may have become suspicious after Gryffindor’s sword came to Harry in second year. He likely hid it immediately after that, but where would he have put it? Somewhere that meant something to him, but no one would think to look. He wasn’t sure anything would look different like Seamus said. It would be too obvious. So, how would he know where Dumbledore chose?

He dropped his hand from his hair as thoughts dawned on him. He remembered Dumbledore coming to talk to him in Gryffindor Tower after the third task of the Triwizard Tournament. He’d admitted to hating the Gryffindor bed curtains and setting them on fire as a student.  He also remembered Dumbledore commenting on the garish, but comforting décor of the Gryffindor common room, mentioning the secrets he’d tried to find as a student. His eyes had travelled all over, but he remembered them lingering for just a second more on a large painting of a knight.

Then he remembered the Marauder’s Map, the weird look Gryffindor Tower had developed. The map wasn’t broken; it was a message from Hogwarts, using the little magic she had left.

He turned back to his friends.

“It’s in Gryffindor common room.”

“You think you can turn your back on us and your father? After everything he’s done for you?”

Draco held the door to the empty classroom closed with his body, closing his eyes as it rattled against his back. Zabini, Nott, and the Carrows were determined to get at him for his betrayal. None of them seemed to be affected by the fluctuating Mind Magic, and, from what he remembered growing up, none of them needed a Dark Lord to worship to psychopathic. After all, it wasn’t until they were in Hogwarts that Voldemort even became a part of the conversation. His father might not have been a Death Eater as they didn’t exist, but he was still a violent, pureblood-obsessed bastard that tried to brainwash him into believing the same thing.

He hadn’t meant to make the Slytherins aware of his changing mind, but he couldn’t hold back when they started speaking reverently about Lucius Malfoy, praising his ability to keep his bloodline pure. If only they knew the number of Muggles and Muggleborns that scattered the Malfoy family tree. He was struggling with his memories and emotions and the things the Mind Magic was making him believe. He wanted to both accept his father’s beliefs and treatment, and prove he was wrong and he’d been abused his whole life.

He jumped when his pursuers pounded harder on the door behind him. He didn’t know what to do. He had no way of escaping and he couldn’t fight all four of them. He didn’t even want to know what they would do to him if they got to him.

The door rattled and cracked behind him. His heart was beating out of his chest at the threat against his back. He clenched his eyes shut as the door continued shaking behind him. He could do nothing more than gasp when the door suddenly blew apart and he was thrown across the floor.

He rolled over onto his back, groaning in pain. He glared up at the Slytherins as they stood over him.

“Think you can run away from who you are?” Blaise Zabini sneered down at Draco.

“Just going to abandon us? For what, Muggles and Mudbloods?” Theodore Nott said.

“No, for me,” Draco snapped. “I’m not going to be what he wants.”

“How could you betray your own father?” Hestia Carrow said and Draco tensed at the sight of her wand. He knew what Carrows were capable of, no matter their age.

“He’s a bastard,” Draco spat. “He’s no father.”

“Ungrateful,” Zabini growled and threw out a foot, kicking Draco hard in the cheek.

Draco rolled at the impact, crying out in pain as his cheekbone shattered. He screamed as Hestia’s Cruciatus ripped through his body. He heaved and coughed as it ended, spewing blood across the stone beneath him. He couldn’t stop the tears from falling as Nott stomped on his ribs, snapping them. He was unable to do anything as the assault continued. His vision eventually began to grow dark and he was sure they were going to kill him.

Not much of a hero after all, he thought just as another blow to his head sent him fully into the dark.