Chapter 303 – The Room of Requirement
On the eighth floor of Hogwarts, opposite the tapestry where the troll beat the hapless Barnabas with a stick, a figure appeared out of thin air. His arrival made no sound, no shift of the air—if anyone had been watching, they would have believed he had simply always been standing there, unnoticed.
But strangely, even after appearing, the worm-eaten troll and the shrieking ballet teacher depicted in the tapestry seemed unable to perceive him at all. It was as though he were a phantom drifting between the cracks of the world.
A moment later, a round black shadow leapt from under the gold-stitched cloak.
A black cat—soft, glossy, and perfectly plump.
"Go on, Xiu." Alexander Smith watched the cat trot confidently toward the blank stretch of wall. It paced back and forth precisely three times, tail flicking, and—
A door formed.
Alexander allowed himself a small breath of satisfaction.
"Good. The Room of Requirement still answers to you."
He extended his left arm, and Xiu Cat hopped neatly into it with a warm, rumbling purr. With his free hand, Alexander grasped the brass handle and pushed.
The door swung open.
A vast cathedral-like chamber stretched before him—so enormous it felt like stepping into an entirely different world. Even though he had known this was the legendary hiding place the Room created over centuries, the sheer scale still stole a beat from his heart.
Mountains of forgotten belongings.
Walls constructed from banished furniture.
Pillars built of abandoned trunks.
Corridors formed by stacked relics from generations of Hogwarts troublemakers.
Thousands of years of accumulation—so much that even the full castle could not hope to contain it.
Alexander let out a low whistle.
"If I had come here earlier… I could have saved myself the trouble of writing books and setting up an entire workshop."
He stepped into one of the makeshift "streets" between towering piles of objects. Even the most ordinary things were priceless to an alchemist: warped tables soaked in ambient magic, shattered artifacts humming faintly, countless banned or vandalized books…
Yes. Books. Entire seas of them, stacked dangerously high like unstable cliffs.
To most students, this would be nothing but a dump.
To Alexander, these were treasures waiting to be reborn.
Rare potion ingredients, forbidden magical components, expired yet still glowing vials, experimental devices half-finished and abandoned…
And in the distance, a true mountain—of cursed and dangerous objects. Rusted chains rattled faintly; winged slingshots drifted weakly; wolf-fang frisbees still tried to fly before falling pathetically.
In Harry's original timeline, this entire trove had been destroyed.
Crabbe's Fiendfyre—reckless, stupid, and irreversible—had burned nearly all of it to ash.
Alexander felt a genuine stab of pain.
"What a waste… Crabbe, you absolute menace."
But he shook the thought away and refocused. He hadn't come here to mourn. He had come for something specific.
The Ravenclaw Diadem.
Voldemort's Horcrux.
And ironically, the one Horcrux even Voldemort forgot the location of.
Finding it would be trivial for Alexander—he could sweep the room with his mind, or let Jerry sniff it out instantly.
But that was boring.
Instead, he followed the memory from Harry's text regarding the Half-Blood Prince.
"A straight path from the entrance… turn right after the troll specimen… pass the broken Vanishing Cabinet… then left… until you reach the large cabinet scarred by acid."
"Well… troll specimen spotted." Alexander adjusted his stride, weaving through the clutter until he found the tall cabinet standing crookedly against a pile of chairs. Its surface was marred as though something corrosive had once splashed on it.
Inside, a dusty crate held a withered five-legged monster.
Alexander grimaced.
"Disgusting. If you can't take care of a pet, don't keep one."
The poor creature had died trapped and forgotten by whatever irresponsible wizard left it here.
Still—this confirmed he was in the right place.
Just beside the crate sat a tattered bust of an ugly old wizard. A tangled gray wig.
And atop them—
A dull, rusty crown.
Alexander blinked.
"That's it?"
Too easy.
He stepped forward, unimpressed.
With the layout unchanged for centuries—Harry's timeline included—he honestly couldn't understand why fanfic protagonists with supposed photographic memories ever struggled to find it.
The crown wasn't going anywhere.
He lifted Jerry, the creature perched quietly on his shoulder. The moment the little being leaned forward and began to lick the metal, the Horcrux's soul fragment trembled once—
And vanished.
The crown in Alexander's hand slowly brightened, shedding its rot. In moments, it was restored to its original beauty—pale as moonlight, flawless like carved jade.
Jerry grew heavier in his arms, satisfied.
"Well done." Alexander gave him a small scratch on the head.
With the Horcrux secured, Alexander opened his hand and focused.
A cup.
A shield.
A shining necklace.
All of them flickered into existence—a silent, magical summoning of artifacts he refused to let this room lose to Fiendfyre.
"Jack."
A soft ripple of gray membrane opened before him, and the house-elf appeared instantly, bowing.
"Yes, Master Alexander?"
"Take these back to the castle. Store them safely."
"Yes, Master." Jack vanished with the items.
Alexander gave the restored Diadem a final, appreciative look before slipping it into an enchanted pouch.
His goal here was done.
(End of Chapter 303)
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