The Room of Requirement

Hermione arrived at the library early, but she still hadn't managed to see Professor Quirrell by closing time.

"He does come every day, but he took a lot of books yesterday, so he probably won't be back for a while."

That was Madam Pince's answer. She added, "If you need something, you can go to his office on the third floor. It's easy to find."

Hermione thanked her and left, looking disappointed.

She didn't go to the third floor. She couldn't think of a reason to ask Professor Quirrell to check her paper. She'd only meant to use a chance encounter as an excuse, but clearly that hadn't worked out.

Voldemort, of course, had no time to go to the library. He was busy studying the Repairing Charm.

Trying the spell in different languages had given him a deeper understanding of its rhythm, but learning those languages was a real headache.

After stumbling along until late at night, Voldemort finally stopped and unfolded the piece of parchment he'd confiscated from the Weasley twins.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The Purple Sandalwood wand pointed at the parchment. Ink spread from its tip, slowly covering the entire sheet, until a map of Hogwarts appeared.

Voldemort leaned over and first glanced at the Headmaster's Office. It was empty, with no names there at all—not Dumbledore's, and not Fawkes's.

"Is Old Bee not at school?"

Voldemort was a little excited, but he didn't dare act rashly. He kept watching the map carefully, examining every place it could show.

It was a bit like playing spot the difference, and it took a lot of focus and strained his eyes. But Voldemort had no choice. Old Bee put far too much pressure on him.

"Really isn't here. Then I'll go for a walk."

Voldemort spoke excitedly, then straightened his clothes and left his office.

He first went down to the second floor, to a corner where a large black cabinet stood—one that looked familiar to him. He'd been at Hogwarts for over a month, and he hadn't dared even look at it properly.

"The time isn't right. It still isn't right."

He murmured to himself, watching it from a distance for a long while before finally turning away.

He still had no opportunity to move the cabinet. Until he did, he wouldn't do anything else that might alert anyone.

After checking the cabinet, Voldemort followed the stairs upward until he reached the Seventh Floor of the castle. He stopped in front of a tapestry showing a troll beating Barnabas the Barmy.

"A place to hide things... A place to hide things... A place to hide things..."

Voldemort walked back and forth three times, repeating the same thought in his mind. Then a smooth door appeared: the Room of Requirement he'd been looking for.

"The Room of Requirement. How does it work?"

Like a child who wanted to take apart a toy, Voldemort wanted to take the Room of Requirement apart, too.

But he only dared to think about it. Dumbledore's office was right next door, and he wouldn't dare do anything reckless, even with its owner away.

He opened the door and went inside. A vast classroom lay before him. Moonlight streamed through the high windows, illuminating the clutter generations of Hogwarts residents had hidden there.

Following his memories, Voldemort began making his way through the piles of junk. Before long, though, he was lost. Too much time had passed, and the route in his hazy memories was long gone.

"Point Me."

He cast the spell with his Purple Sandalwood wand. As it took effect, the wand hung motionless in the air, then began to guide him.

Following the floating wand, he skirted a mountain of books and passed a high wall made of stacked flying discs and slingshots. At last, Voldemort reached a box.

A wisp of dusty gray hair and a rusty piece of metal poked out from the top of the box. If Voldemort kicked it, they might fall off.

Voldemort knew that the rusty metal was part of Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem. It was not only an antique; it could also grant wisdom to whoever wore it.

And a part of his own soul was inside it.

"A Remnant Soul that hasn't gone mad... I wish I could get it right now."

He thought this, but in the end, he still didn't act.

"Everything that should be here is here. Now I just need to wait patiently."

He said this to himself, then reached out and touched the Diadem from a distance. His eyes gleamed with longing for knowledge, talent, and power.

He lowered his hand and left without hesitation.

"I wonder if there are any secrets here."

Once he was away from the crown, Voldemort's excitement subsided, and he immediately became curious about the objects stored there.

"Maybe there's something valuable after all."

With that thought, he began rummaging through the room. Unfortunately, even after searching for quite a while, he didn't find anything of value.

"This place is huge. Maybe someday I can put together a treasure-hunting group to look around. There's bound to be something good."

His time and energy were limited, so Voldemort soon gave up the search. Still, he couldn't stop thinking about it.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

He opened the Marauder's Map again. After confirming that Dumbledore still wasn't in the castle, Voldemort left and headed downstairs.

"Professor Quirrell, what are you doing out so late?"

At the fourth-floor stairway, Voldemort ran into Argus Filch, the Hogwarts caretaker. He wasn't surprised. He hadn't even tried to hide where he was going.

If he'd used the Disillusionment Charm or some other method and been caught, that would have been much harder to explain. Walking around openly gave him plenty of excuses.

"Studying spells gets exhausting, Filch. I came out for a stroll."

When Voldemort mentioned spells, Filch's eyes visibly lit up. "Is Mrs. Norris around? I haven't seen her much these past few days."

"Oh, she's patrolling somewhere else. She'll let me know when she finds a naughty student," Filch said eagerly.

"I hope you have some luck," Voldemort said with a smile, then passed him and walked away.

Filch stood on the stairs watching him go and muttered, "I wish all the students were like the Ravenclaws."

Voldemort heard him before he'd gone far and couldn't help smiling. No one in the whole school—not even the Hufflepuffs—was as well-behaved as the Ravenclaws, was there?

It was true: studious children didn't get into trouble.

With a light step, Voldemort headed downstairs, his eyes constantly darting from side to side. During the day, he never dared observe everything so freely. The rare feeling of freedom was wonderful.

At the same time, he was making plans for the future.

"I could put up a Christmas tree here. That would give me an excuse to move around, but going all the way up from the second floor would still be difficult. I'll need a much more detailed plan..."

Muttering to himself, Voldemort made his way to the hall, then went from there to the third floor and returned to his office.

"Hogwarts without Old Bee is what true bliss feels like."

He sighed and returned to his spell studies, only closing his book to go to bed when the night had grown even deeper.