Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

At this very moment, Harry could hardly have imagined that the place he had been searching for all term would suddenly appear right in front of him.

All throughout the term, he had wanted countless times to follow Malfoy into the Room of Requirement, to figure out what Draco was doing in there, to find out where he was going. And now, the room before him was exactly what he had been trying to find.

Because he had injured Malfoy with Sectumsempra, and because Snape wanted to confiscate the Prince’s book, everything had taken a dramatic turn.

Harry didn’t yet know all of this, but he was undoubtedly stunned by what he saw before him.

He had originally only wanted a place to hide the book, but he did not expect that the Room of Requirement would give him such a space.

Harry gasped. Despite his haste, his panic, his fear of what awaited him back in the bathroom, he could not help but be overawed by what he was looking at. He was standing in a room the size of a large cathedral, whose high windows were sending shafts of light down upon what looked like a city with towering walls, built of what Harry knew must be objects hidden by generations of Hogwarts inhabitants.

There were alleyways and roads bordered by teetering piles of broken and damaged furniture, stowed away, perhaps, to hide the evidence of mishandled magic, or else hidden by castle-proud house-elves.

There were thousands and thousands of books, no doubt banned or graffitied or stolen. There were winged catapults and Fanged Frisbees, some still with enough life in them to hover halfheartedly over the mountains of other forbidden items; there were chipped bottles of congealed potions, hats, jewels, cloaks; there were what looked like dragon eggshells, corked bottles whose contents still shimmered evilly, several rusting swords, and a heavy, bloodstained axe.

Harry hurried forward into one of the many alleyways between all this hidden treasure. He turned right past an enormous stuffed troll, ran on a short way, took a left at a broken Vanishing Cabinet, finally pausing in front of a faded crate.

On top of the crate was a chipped bust of an ugly old warlock, with a dusty old wig and a circle of star marks on the top on the statue’s head. Perhaps the statue had once worn a tiara or something similar, but it was no longer there.

Harry hesitated, and looked into the room again. He could not see the end of it.

Surely there were better places to hide a book than here, but he didn’t have time.

He hastily grabbed a filthy rag, wrapped up the Half-Blood Prince’s book, and stuffed it behind the crate.

Harry panted, paused for a moment, his heart thumping horribly, gazing around at all the clutter. …

Further back was a massive pile of discarded furniture, dumped here in disarray.

Thanks to the crate’s cover, the Half-Blood Prince’s book was completely hidden from view.

Would Snape be able to find this spot again amidst all this junk?

After a brief hesitation, Harry felt that the answer was no.

Then he sprinted back through the alleyways of hidden junk as fast as he could go, back to the door, back out onto the corridor, where he slammed the door behind him, and it turned at once back into stone.

Harry ran flat-out toward the bathroom on the floor below, cramming Ron’s copy of Advanced Potion-Making into his bag as he did so.

If possible, he really ought to speak with Evan first.

He still had a duplicate copy of the Half-Blood Prince’s book, and he seemed to know something about how the Sectumsempra curse worked.

But right now, Harry couldn’t worry about any of that; he knew he had to hurry.

A minute later, he was back in front of Snape, who held out his hand wordlessly for Harry’s schoolbag. Harry handed it over, panting, a searing pain in his chest, and waited.

One by one, Snape extracted Harry’s books and examined them. Finally, the only book left was the Potions book, which he looked at very carefully before speaking.

“This is your copy of Advanced Potion-Making, is it, Potter?”

“Yes,” said Harry, still breathing hard.

“You’re quite sure of that, are you, Potter?”

“Yes,” said Harry stubbornly, with a touch more defiance.

“This is the copy of Advanced Potion-Making that you purchased from Flourish and Blotts?”

“Yes,” said Harry firmly.

“Then why does it have the name ‘Roonil Wazlib’ written inside the front cover?”

Harry’s heart missed a beat. He had forgotten about that. Luckily, Ron hadn’t written his real name in the book.

“That’s my nickname,” he said, trying to sound casual.

“Your nickname?”

“Yeah … that’s what my friends call me. I like the nickname Roonil.”

“I understand what a nickname is,” said Snape. The cold, black eyes were boring once more into Harry’s; he tried not to look into them. Close your mind. … Close your mind. … But he hadn’t practiced Occlumency for a long time, and he had never learned how to do it properly. …

But he could at least refuse to meet Snape’s eyes, which was the best way to resist the spell.

“Stop that ridiculous attempt. Do you know what I think, Potter?” said Snape, very quietly. “I think that you are a liar and a cheat and that you deserve detention with me every Saturday until the end of term. What do you think, Potter?”

“I — I don’t agree, sir,” said Harry, still refusing to look into Snape’s eyes.

“Well, we shall see how you feel after your detentions,” said Snape. “Ten o’clock Saturday morning, Potter. My office.”

“But sir …” said Harry, looking up desperately. “Quidditch … the last match of the …”

“Ten o’clock, you must come!” whispered Snape, with a smile that showed his yellow teeth, “Roonil? What a ridiculous nickname! Poor Gryffindor … without you … fourth place this year, I fear …”

And he left the bathroom without another word, leaving Harry to stare into the cracked mirror, feeling sicker than he had ever felt in his life.

Snape must have been suspicious of the Prince’s book. Given Harry’s understanding of him, he would not give up the pursuit.

Harry was not sure how long he could keep this secret under Snape’s investigation. If the Half-Blood Prince’s book was discovered…

What made Harry even more confused and frustrated was why there was such dangerous Dark Magic in the Prince’s book!

Thinking of Malfoy lying on the ground bleeding, Harry shuddered again.

This matter was simply horrifying!

Thinking about it carefully, Harry was even more frightened and broke out in a cold sweat. This whole thing really didn’t seem so simple.

“Oh, you used Sectumsempra on Malfoy?” said Evan, an hour later in the common room.

He and Elaine had just come back from studying the previous night. Vampires were always sharper at night.

The two of them had found an empty classroom and studied from eight in the evening until two in the morning. As soon as they returned, they saw Harry looking completely distraught.

“I remember I warned you not to use it on students…”

“I know. I didn’t take it seriously,” said Harry weakly. “I had no idea the curse would be that dangerous.”

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