At ten o'clock in the evening, Hogwarts Castle fell silent. Due to the curfew, the corridors were empty, save for the low murmur of voices from the portraits on the walls.
Then, not far away, a sudden flash of light appeared. A door had been opened, and the glow from within spilled out. The quiet sound of stone grinding against the floor followed, accompanied by the footsteps of a lone figure.
Harry took a few steps forward but couldn’t help glancing back at the Gargoyle, which had hopped back into place. He let out a long, lancholy sigh.
He had tried to bargain with Dumbledore—offering Slughorn’s mory in exchange for being spared detention, sothing he had been certain would work—but it had completely backfired.
"I'm glad you got the mory, Harry. If you like, I'll give you an extra reward, but it won't help you avoid punishnt. Those are two separate matters that cannot be easily offset," Dumbledore had told him.
That ant he still had to report to Professor McGonagall’s office every Saturday for detention, which also ant missing the final and most crucial Quidditch match.
The only small consolation was that Kyle seed to have other commitnts and wouldn’t be playing in the match either.
With only one ga left in the season, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor were neck and neck, separated by a re ten points. In other words, whoever scored higher in the final match would likely take the championship.
Now that both teams had lost a key player, the playing field was, in a way, evened out.
"I hope Kyle still doesn’t play," Harry sighed, then turned and headed toward the common room.
At this hour, there weren’t many students left in the common room, but Hermione and Ron were still there, looking as though they had been waiting for him the entire ti.
"What took you so long?"
"So, did Headmaster Dumbledore expel you?" Hermione asked.
"No," Harry shook his head. "But he docked a hundred points, and I have to serve detention every Saturday in Professor McGonagall’s office."
"As long as you're not expelled," Ron said, taking it in stride. "Losing points and getting detention is nothing. Our house is already last in the rankings—another hundred points won’t make much of a difference."
"It’s not about the points," Harry replied. "It’s the fact that I have to be in detention every Saturday."
"So what? You... wait a minute." Ron suddenly realized sothing. "You an every Saturday?"
"That’s right."
"What about the final Quidditch match?" Ron asked urgently.
"I can’t help it," Harry said with a shrug.
"How can the headmaster do that..." Ron said, growing anxious. "That match will decide whether we win the Quidditch Cup!"
"Can you go back and talk to him again? Maybe he’ll agree to let you play."
"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," Hermione said, pushing him away. "Do you think the headmaster’s decisions are like howork? Sothing you can just redo until you get a better result?"
"But Gryffindor hasn’t won the Quidditch Cup in over ten years," Ron said helplessly, staring up at the ceiling. "This was our best chance!"
"I can’t do anything about it," Harry said, lowering his head.
"Never mind that for now," Hermione interrupted as both boys let out long sighs. "How did it go with the mory? Did you give it to Dumbledore?"
"Of course. Thanks to you, Hermione—without you, I don’t think I could have gotten it," Harry said.
"That’s because you were the one who convinced him," Hermione pointed out. "The Felix Felicis only helped set the mood. If it had been or Ron, we wouldn’t have gotten Professor Slughorn’s mory, even if we’d drunk a whole pint of it."
"But setting the mood was exactly what I lacked," Harry admitted. "Anyway, thank you. As for the Felix Felicis, I’ll find a way to repay you."
"What are you talking about? You don’t need to repay ," Hermione said. "But what exactly was in the mory?"
"I was about to tell you," Harry said, suddenly lowering his voice. "Follow ."
He led them to a secluded row of armchairs in the far corner of the common room and sat down, speaking in hushed tones.
"Slughorn told Voldemort how to make a Horcrux."
"So it really was him?" Hermione gasped, covering her mouth in shock.
"Yeah. He’s the one who explained to Voldemort that creating a Horcrux requires committing murder to split one’s soul."
Harry then recounted everything he had seen in the mory.
Truthfully, the mory itself wasn’t long—just a ten-minute conversation between Slughorn and a young Tom Riddle. But after viewing it, Dumbledore had spent over half an hour deep in thought before finally showing an expression that was both relieved and excited.
After hearing Harry's description, Ron couldn't help but ask, “You an, Dumbledore looked happy?”
“I think so,” Harry nodded. “He even muttered a few words to himself.”
“What did he say?” Hermione asked.
“Let see...” Harry frowned, trying to recall Dumbledore's expression after he had co back to his senses. “He said... ‘This mory confirms my suspicions. I was right. I'm so close... Tom, Tom, you never expected this, did you?’ Sothing like that.”
“Who is this Tom?” Ron asked, puzzled.
“It’s Voldemort’s na when he was young,” Harry said. “I rember telling you that before. Voldemort’s real na is Tom Riddle.”
“If you could call him sothing else, maybe I’d rember,” Ron muttered.
His legs always trembled at the ntion of "Voldemort," so how could he possibly rember anything Harry had said after that?
“You can’t do that, Ron. Be brave. It’s just a na,” Harry said seriously. “You need to learn to live with it.”
“Ah, yeah, I’ll try,” Ron said, though his tone carried a hint of resignation.
Adapting to calling Voldemort by his na? Easier said than done. He was certain that at least 80% of the wizarding world couldn't do it.
"I’m so close..." Hermione, who had been quiet until now, sat in the armchair, looking at Harry with doubt. “What does that an?”
“I don’t know. Professor Dumbledore didn’t say,” Harry shook his head. “After that, he let go and told to et him in the Great Hall at seven o’clock tomorrow morning. He said he’d show sothing different then... as a reward for getting the mory.”
“Hermione,” Harry suddenly said, turning to her. “Why don’t you co tomorrow morning? Without your Felix Felicis potion, I wouldn’t have gotten the mory back, so the reward should go to you.”
“No, Harry,” Hermione shook her head. “As I said earlier, you were the main factor in convincing Professor Slughorn, and the Felix Felicis only played a supporting role. The reward should go to you.”
The two of them were passing the honor back and forth?
“But—”
Harry was about to say more, but Hermione cut him off.
“It’s settled, then,” she said, standing up. “And you’ll probably be in the Headmaster’s Office for an hour or two each ti. Who knows if it’ll be the sa tomorrow? The first lesson tomorrow morning is Transfiguration, and I don’t want to be late.”
“Okay,” Harry said, seeing that Hermione was firm in her decision. “If you change your mind, just let know.”
“I won’t,” Hermione said decisively, waving her hand.
With that, the three of them headed back to their dormitories.
The next morning.
Harry groggily got out of bed and yawned as he made his way toward the Great Hall. Since his second year, he had rarely woken up this early, and he wasn’t used to it.
From a distance, he saw Dumbledore standing there, accompanied by... Kyle?
Apparently, after many missed opportunities, Dumbledore had finally managed to catch Kyle on the first morning after the holidays.
He had tid it perfectly, arriving just as Kyle finished breakfast and was about to head to the eighth floor.
“Professor Dumbledore,” Harry said, trotting over. “Kyle, you’re here too.”
"Hello, Harry," Kyle said, then glanced at Dumbledore. "So, he's the one we've been waiting for?"
“That’s right,” Dumbledore nodded. “I hope you can forgive for taking the liberty.”
“That’s fine,” Kyle said, then hesitated before changing the subject. “But... never mind. Would you like so breakfast first?”
He had initially wanted to say that Harry hadn't taken Ancient Runes and wouldn't understand anything, but since he was already here, there was no point in ntioning it.
“Breakfast?” Harry touched his stomach.
He was a bit hungry, but he didn’t want Kyle and Dumbledore to wait for him. After thinking about it for a mont, he grabbed two sandwiches, deciding to eat while walking so he wouldn’t waste ti.
The three of them made their way back to the eighth floor together. Kyle led the way, taking a few turns before stopping in a corridor.
Harry knew exactly where they were. He was about to remind Kyle that the Room of Requirent was broken and no one could get in when he saw Kyle take out a strange doorknob and press it against the wall.
The next second, a door suddenly appeared.
The Room of Requirent?
Harry stood there, dumbfounded, staring at the scene in disbelief.
What’s going on? Does the Room of Requirent need a key to open now?
He had never heard of such a thing.
And where was this key made? He wanted one too.
It wasn’t until the others had stepped through the door that Harry snapped out of his daze and hurriedly followed.
Then, he was shocked again.
He felt as if he had entered another Hogwarts. Everything was eerily familiar.
“Is this where Rowena Ravenclaw's mories are?” Dumbledore asked, watching the students passing by. His expression held genuine surprise.
Harry caught sothing important in those words.
Whose mories?
Rowena Ravenclaw’s?
Could this place be similar to the Pensieve in Dumbledore's office?
He reached out and touched the wall beside him. It was cold to the touch—solid, real.
Tentatively, he approached soone who appeared to be a student. However, as soon as he got close, the person passed straight through him, as if he were a ghost.
But they didn’t look like a ghost at all. Ghosts didn’t walk—they floated. And they weren’t anything but pearly white.
“New boy, watch where you’re going,” the man said, turning his head with a look of displeasure.
“Sorry,” Harry apologized instinctively.
So this really was a mory?
He could hardly believe it. In all the tis he had used the Pensieve before, no one had ever been able to see or interact with him, let alone talk to him.
But when he saw Dumbledore's equally surprised expression, he felt reassured. At least he wasn’t the only one who had never seen sothing like this before.
Kyle, on the other hand, remained completely calm, as if this was nothing new to him.
“You can look around as much as you like,” Kyle said, walking over to Harry. “There are classrooms upstairs with professors teaching lessons that have existed for centuries. You can sit in and listen if you want.”
Harry nodded and set off.
But instead of heading to a classroom, he wandered the castle, much like he had when he first arrived at Hogwarts.
He made his way to the Gryffindor common room, but instead of the familiar Fat Lady, a different painting greeted him—a tall knight wielding a two-handed sword.
The knight refused to let him in because he didn’t know the password.
So Harry turned and left, continuing his exploration.
At so point, he found himself in the corridor where the Room of Requirent was located.
He stared at the empty wall for a mont. Then, on a whim, he closed his eyes and began pacing back and forth.
"I need a broom closet... I need a broom closet... I need a broom closet."
He walked three tis along the wall, but when he opened his eyes, there was no door.
Right... This is the Room of Requirent. How could there be another Room of Requirent?
Shaking his head, he walked away.
anwhile, Dumbledore had also reached the place he was most interested in.
After what felt like three hours—or possibly even longer—the three of them regrouped in the entrance hall, preparing to leave.
“Harry, how was it? Could you understand anything?” Kyle asked.
Harry’s face tensed.
“It’s... it’s fine,” he said, though his voice sounded uncertain.
He hadn’t even attended the lessons. Well, that wasn’t entirely true—he had sat in on one for about ten minutes, but he hadn’t understood a word. Eventually, he had slipped out.
That hadn’t gone unnoticed. The professor had been furious and had given him an earful for walking out mid-lesson.
Harry had never imagined mories could feel so real. He had subconsciously treated this place like a Pensieve, assuming he could move freely without anyone noticing—leaving whenever he wanted.
That illusion shattered when a book, thrown by an angry professor, passed straight through his head. His legs had nearly given out on the spot.
After that, he had avoided the classrooms entirely, spending the rest of the morning wandering through the castle instead.
Kyle, however, could tell just from Harry’s guilty expression what had happened. He didn’t press the matter and simply nodded.
He then turned to Dumbledore.
“Very interesting,” Dumbledore mused. “This has answered a few mysteries that have puzzled for years—such as how long the portraits have existed in the school. I have always been curious about that.”
But then, his expression shifted slightly. “There is one strange thing, though.”
“What is it?” Kyle asked.
“I saw Slytherin in the Chamber of Secrets and Hufflepuff in the kitchens,” Dumbledore said. “But I couldn’t find Gryffindor anywhere.”
Dumbledore’s gaze sharpened slightly. “He doesn’t seem to be in this castle. But if I rember correctly, Gryffindor was the most active of the Founders. He even served as a professor for a ti, teaching students himself.”
Kyle hesitated.
He couldn’t exactly tell Dumbledore that Godric Gryffindor had been erased from Ravenclaw’s mory due to sothing dishonorable.
Dumbledore is a Gryffindor himself. Would he be able to accept that his house’s founder was a man who had been notorious for using his sword to flick at people’s belt loops?
What had he even been? A pervert? A weirdo?
For the sake of the Founders’ dignity, Kyle chose his words carefully.
“He’s probably not at school right now,” he said after a pause.
“Really?” Dumbledore didn’t dwell on it.
As the three of them stepped out of the Room of Requirent, the door on the wall vanished behind them.
“I heard from Harry that you once transford his and Malfoy’s magic into so sort of animal,” Dumbledore said suddenly, glancing at Kyle. “That’s how you learned it, isn’t it?”
Harry turned toward them as well.
Before, Hermione had said Kyle learned this spell from the library, but now it was clear that wasn’t the case.
“That’s right,” Kyle nodded. “It was in a second-floor Charms class. Professor Lagord thought it was a useful trick.”
“It’s not a trick,” Dumbledore said with a smile. “If you face an opponent unfamiliar with runes, any spell they cast could beco an advantage to you. Numbers cease to matter.”
He turned, looking at Harry as if about to explain sothing further. But then, after a brief pause, he chose to say nothing.
Forget it. So things couldn’t be forced.
Harry was doing well enough already. At the very least, he was capable of fighting back against most Death Eaters.
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