That weekend brought the next phase of their operation: the infiltration of Hogwarts to search for Ravenclaw's diadem. As planned, Regulus, disguised via Polyjuice as an unremarkable Ministry educational inspector, entered the castle through the Honeydukes passage, meeting Marquas in a secluded corridor near the Room of Requirement.
The flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows across their faces as they conferred in hushed tones, the distant sounds of students enjoying their weekend freedom echoing from far corridors.
"Any complications?" Marquas asked quietly as they made their way toward the seventh floor, their footsteps muffled by a subtle silencing charm.
"None," Regulus replied, his borrowed face showing subtle signs of strain from maintaining the additional glamour charms layered over the Polyjuice disguise. A bead of sweat traced his temple despite the castle's perpetual coolness. "Though this double-layered concealment is magically taxing. I wouldn't want to maintain it for more than a few hours. The drain is... considerable."
We'll be efficient," Marquas said coolly, eyes flicking to the Marauder's Map he'd lifted from a few unsuspecting students, a knowing smirk curling on his lips, the same kind Severus Snape wore whenever he cornered Harry Potter. The magical parchment showed the seventh-floor corridor was currently deserted, the tiny labeled footprints of students and faculty all safely distant from their location. "The room should be accessible without interference."
They reached the appropriate corridor, the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy attempting to teach trolls ballet providing the bizarre landmark needed. Marquas paced three times before the blank wall, his footsteps measured and deliberate as he concentrated intently: I need the place where everything is hidden... I need the place where everything is hidden... I need the place where everything is hidden...
On the third pass, an ornate door materialized in the previously blank stone wall, its ancient wood seeming to grow organically from the surrounding stone. With a quick glance to ensure they remained unobserved, Marquas opened the door, wincing slightly at the faint creak of hinges that hadn't moved in months, and they slipped inside.
The Room of Hidden Things was exactly as Marquas remembered from the books' descriptions, a cathedral-sized space filled with towering piles of objects discarded or concealed by generations of Hogwarts inhabitants. The musty scent of old books mingled with the metallic tang of forgotten magical artifacts, while the air itself seemed to hum with the residual magic of thousands of objects. Dust motes danced in shafts of light from unseen windows, and the occasional creak or rustle suggested that not all the room's contents were inanimate.
Furniture, books, contraband, clothing, magical artifacts, a chaotic museum of the forbidden, forgotten, and lost stretched before them in towering, precarious piles that seemed to defy both gravity and logic.
"Impressive," Regulus murmured, his eyes widening as he took in the vast collection, his voice echoing slightly despite its softness. "How are we supposed to find one small diadem in... this? It's like searching for a specific grain of sand on a beach."
"That's where your detection spell comes in," Marquas replied, drawing his wand from his sleeve with practiced precision. The ebony wood seemed to drink in what little light reached them. "Let's start with a systematic grid search, beginning from this entrance point and working our way deeper. Concentrate on objects that might have been here since the founding era."
They began casting the specialized Horcrux detection charm in overlapping patterns, methodically covering sections of the enormous room. The magic was exhausting, requiring intense concentration to distinguish between the background magical noise of thousands of enchanted objects and the specific dark signature of a Horcrux.
"This is like trying to hear a whisper in a thunderstorm," Regulus muttered after forty minutes of fruitless searching. His borrowed face was pale with strain, sweat now freely running down his temples from maintaining both the disguise and the complex detection magic. His wand hand trembled slightly with the ongoing effort.
Marquas nodded grimly, wiping dust from his brow with his sleeve. "The interference is worse than I anticipated. We may need to modify the detection parameters."
They paused to adjust their approach, Marquas drawing on his extensive theoretical knowledge while Regulus contributed practical insight from his family's dark artifacts collection. After recalibrating the spell to filter out common magical signatures, they resumed their search, moving deeper into the labyrinthine collection.
Another half hour passed with nothing but false alarms, a cursed music box that played when they approached, its melody haunting and discordant; a book of forbidden hexes that whispered enticements when Regulus passed too close; a necklace that had once strangled its owner, the tarnished silver still seeming to twist with malevolent purpose. Each required careful inspection before being ruled out, precious minutes ticking away as Regulus's Polyjuice disguise gradually approached its time limit.
"We should consider retreating and returning another day," Marquas suggested, noting the increasing frequency with which Regulus had to renew the stability charms on his disguise. The younger man's breathing had become labored, his magical reserves clearly depleting rapidly. "Your disguise won't hold much longer at this rate."
"One more section," Regulus insisted, his determination evident despite his fatigue. His eyes, though set in a borrowed face, burned with the characteristic Black family stubbornness. "I felt something... different... just beyond that collapsed wardrobe. Something that resonates differently from these other dark objects. Colder, somehow."
They carefully navigated around a precariously balanced tower of chairs, Marquas steadying a wobbling stack of books with a quick stabilizing charm as Regulus's robes caught the corner. The dust they disturbed swirled in the air, causing them both to stifle coughs that might disrupt their detection spells.
Just as they were about to give up, Regulus's spell suddenly emitted a soft, discordant chime like cracked glass being struck. The sound raised the hair on Marquas's arms, his body instinctively recognizing the proximity of something fundamentally wrong.
"I've got something," Regulus said tersely, following the magical resonance like a divining rod, his wand hand extended before him. His face had taken on an almost feverish intensity. "This direction, approximately twenty feet ahead. It's... pulsing, somehow. Like a heartbeat, but wrong."
They navigated through more precariously balanced towers of discarded objects, following the strengthening signal. Twice they had to backtrack when paths were blocked, and once Regulus nearly lost the signal entirely when a shifting pile of enchanted clothing temporarily interfered with the detection charm.
Finally, they reached a tarnished cabinet with serpentine legs. Atop it sat a discolored bust of an old warlock wearing an expression of perpetual disdain, and perched on the bust's head, almost innocuous in its tarnished state, was an ancient tiara.
"Ravenclaw's diadem," Marquas confirmed softly, careful not to touch it directly. The object radiated a subtle wrongness that made his skin crawl even from several feet away, like standing too close to a fire that burned with cold rather than heat. "Just as the legends described it."
"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure," Regulus quoted the Ravenclaw motto, staring at the corrupted artifact with a mixture of academic fascination and visceral disgust. His face had drained of what little color remained. "Though I doubt it offers much wisdom in its current state. The corruption is... profound."
Using a specialized containment bag lined with protective enchantments, they carefully secured the diadem without direct contact. The Horcrux seemed to pulse with malevolent awareness inside its prison, like a captured venomous creature seeking escape. Even through the layers of protective magic, Marquas could feel it searching for weaknesses, probing for minds it could influence.
"Two down," Marquas murmured as they prepared to leave the Room of Requirement, the weight of the contained Horcrux seeming far greater than its physical size would suggest. "Four to go, assuming our theory about the total number is correct."
Regulus nodded, some of his strength returning now that the demanding detection spell could be discontinued.
"We'll find them," Marquas assured him with quiet confidence. "Piece by piece, we'll dismantle his immortality. The Reasonably Handsome Rebellion may be small, but we're effective."
They had almost reached the exit when disaster struck. The door to the room suddenly swung open with a heavy groan of ancient hinges. The corridor's cooler air rushed in, carrying with it the distinctive scent of lemon drops that always seemed to accompany Albus Dumbledore, who stood framed in the doorway, his bright blue eyes widening in surprise behind half-moon spectacles at the unexpected encounter.
"Ah," the Headmaster said mildly, though his wand hand shifted subtly to a ready position, the ancient yew wood appearing in his fingers seemingly from nowhere. "I thought I sensed unusual magic in this vicinity. Professor Snape, would you care to introduce your... guest?"
Marquas and Regulus exchanged a quick glance, tension crackling between them like static electricity. This was an unforeseen complication, one that could potentially expose their entire operation if handled poorly.
"Headmaster," Marquas began carefully, mind racing for a plausible explanation that wouldn't reveal Regulus's true identity or their Horcrux hunt. "Allow me to present "
Before he could continue, the Polyjuice disguise chose that precise moment to begin wearing off, Regulus's borrowed features starting to shift and melt like wax under heat. His nondescript brown hair darkened to the characteristic Black family raven hue, his unremarkable features sharpening into the aristocratic lines of his true face.
Dumbledore's eyebrows rose dramatically as he observed the transformation, but rather than alarm, his eyes showed a glimmer of what might have been, most troublingly, amusement. "Most interesting," he commented, his wand now fully raised, though his posture remained deceptively relaxed. "Perhaps this discussion would be better continued in my office? "
And with that simple statement, the carefully constructed secrecy of their "Reasonably Handsome Rebellion" faced its greatest challenge yet. Their unauthorized Horcrux hunt, Regulus's continued existence, and Marquas's independent operations were all suddenly at risk of exposure to the one wizard whose cooperation they needed but whose control they had deliberately avoided.
"Well," Regulus muttered under his breath as his true features continued to emerge, the last vestiges of his disguise melting away like morning mist, "this complicates matters."
Marquas could only nod in grim agreement as they followed Dumbledore toward his office, the captured Horcrux still concealed in its protective bag and their carefully laid plans crumbling around them. The weight of the diadem in his pocket seemed to increase with every step, as though the soul fragment inside understood that its capture might soon be known to the greatest wizard of the age.
Sometimes, even the best strategic minds couldn't account for simple bad timing.