NOVEL WEB Chapter 31: The Room of Requests
"Merlin, there's so much stuff!"
Staring at the endless sea of clutter in front of him, Ron's jaw dropped. After a moment, his face turned red as he blurted out,
"There might be antiques in here from thousands of years ago..."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're in a magical room like this, and that's the first thing you think of?"
Ron scratched his cheek and muttered, "That's a perfectly normal reaction for a normal person."
Peter stood to the side, smiling quietly. Once the three had started to adjust to their surroundings, he turned to Harry and asked casually, "Harry, how do you feel?"
"Huh?" Harry blinked in surprise, but still answered, "Well... it's amazing."
"What else?"
Harry looked puzzled. "What else should I feel?"
Ron and Hermione also turned to Peter, now curious too.
"Nothing, just curious," Peter waved it off casually, then added,"Feel free to explore. Maybe, like Ron said, you'll really stumble on some ancient antiques."
Ron lit up and immediately dragged Harry off to search.
Hermione, drawn by the glint of various strange objects, walked toward a nearby pile to investigate.
As Peter watched their backs disappear among the clutter, his cheerful expression faded. His eyes narrowed slightly.
"So… there's no attraction or resonance between them at all. The Horcrux reaction was never there to begin with."
He had discovered the Room of Requirement last week, on the third day after school started—not because he desperately needed a hidden place, but because he had been looking for a treasure rumored to lie somewhere in this forgotten chamber of junk.
Ravenclaw's Diadem.
An alchemical artifact, said to grant immense wisdom to the one who wears it.
Peter, however, didn't care much for what people called "wisdom."
But there was no doubt about it: as one of the Four Founders of Hogwarts, the diadem that once rested on Rowena Ravenclaw's brow likely held some of the most mysterious and advanced magical knowledge in the realm of ancient alchemy.
And beyond that—Voldemort had turned it into a Horcrux.
The thought of that snake-faced man made Peter's expression grow colder.
He could never imagine himself kneeling before Voldemort, kissing the hem of that monster's robe.
That lunatic, with his split and twisted soul, wasn't someone Peter would ever consider following—let alone serving.
But he wouldn't deny that Voldemort was powerful.
In his previous life, some fans had argued that Voldemort was overhyped, especially since he lost to Dumbledore, an old man well past a hundred.
What they overlooked was that Dumbledore wielded the Elder Wand and was a Transfiguration master.
The original story made it clear: the Killing Curse wasn't unstoppable. It could be intercepted—especially by objects transformed through Transfiguration. A transfigured object could even take the hit of the Killing Curse and "die" in the wizard's place.
So, Voldemort, who had spent his life mastering the Dark Arts and Unforgivable Curses, had still been completely outmatched by Dumbledore.
But even so, Dumbledore had never truly defeated Voldemort.
"I still need time to grow," Peter murmured to himself, twirling his wand between his fingers, his eyes scanning the towering heaps of forgotten relics. "And I need to weaken Tom. At the very least, I have to make sure he lies low for the next few years, just like in the original timeline..."
He wasn't foolish enough to destroy a Horcrux himself. That kind of reckless action would draw too much attention.
But that didn't mean he couldn't find one—and pass it on to Dumbledore.
After all, the great white wizard had spent years puzzled by Voldemort's unnatural survival. Peter could hand him the missing piece.
Surely Old Dung would be quite grateful.
At first, Peter had planned to use Harry's supposed sensitivity to Horcruxes as a shortcut to locate Ravenclaw's diadem. But it seemed the time wasn't ripe. The Horcrux hadn't resonated with him yet.
So, it was back to the grind: searching, sorting, and inspecting every last pile in the Room of Requirement on his own.
Fortunately, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all still infatuated with the magic of the Room, and they happily agreed to keep returning over the next few days.
But the following morning, news exploded across Hogwarts like wildfire:
Harry Potter had joined the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
The Gryffindor team captain, Oliver Wood, was furious. He had repeatedly warned the team to keep Harry's recruitment a secret, hoping to unleash him as a surprise weapon during the first match.
But Harry, who had managed to keep quiet under pressure from McGonagall, couldn't help but blurt it out to his friends.
The next morning, Fred and George were bouncing down the corridors, announcing to anyone who would listen:
"Harry's our new Seeker! The House Cup is in the bag this year!"
That night, Wood sat slumped on the Quidditch pitch, clutching his broom and staring at the sky in despair. "How am I supposed to win with a team of blabbermouths?"
Harry, meanwhile, was also miserable—not because of the unwanted attention, but because he had completely forgotten that his detention with Malfoy wasn't over.
Compared to what came next, wiping down the trophy room had been child's play. His next punishment was to assist none other than Professor Snape in preparing potion ingredients.
Naturally, the trio's plan to continue exploring the Room of Requirement had to be put on hold.
After two more days of fruitless searching through the endless junk, Peter finally made his way to Snape's office over the weekend.
He barely stepped through the door before the Potions Master sneered in that cold, biting tone of his:
"Tsk, tsk, Potter. I'd dearly love to crack open that skull of yours and see if it's filled with Flobber worm mucus."
Malfoy, seated nearby, let out a smug snicker.
When the door creaked open, Snape—whose face was so close to Harry's it was practically nose-to-nose—straightened up.
He cast a quick glance toward the newcomer and, upon seeing it was Peter, reached into a drawer and pulled out a slip of parchment.
Without wasting words, he handed it over and said curtly, "The book is in the library. Here's the note. Read it first."
"Thank you, Professor," Peter replied politely.
He glanced at Harry, whose eyes were still misty from a recent potion spray, and gave him a helpless shrug.
This was just Snape's unique brand of affection for Harry—outsiders couldn't really get involved.
At the library, Peter presented the note to Madam Pince, the strict and skeletal librarian who ranked third on the students' list of people to avoid.
Any student daring to make the slightest noise inside her domain was liable to get smacked with her feather duster and tossed out in disgrace.
She looked from the note to Peter with hawk-like eyes and complained:
"Restricted area? Why would Professor Snape give such an outrageous note? The books there are not what first-year students should borrow at all."
"The professor thinks I'm qualified, ma'am," Peter said with a smile.
"Hmph..." Madam Pince was like an angry bull, breathing heavily from her nostrils, but she did not question anything in the end.
"Follow me, pay attention, and be quiet."
Madam Pince took Peter to the restricted section at the back of the library.
She unleashed the magic of the restricted area, leaving Peter outside, and hurried in. When she came out, she was holding several books in her hands.
"Advanced Potion Making, Powerful Potion, Advanced Magic Encyclopedia, and this one... An Introduction to the Dark Arts. This is the book that Professor Snape allowed you to borrow."
"Thank you, ma'am." Peter took it.
Madam Pince looked at him deeply again and warned him, "The contents of these books are very dangerous. If you have any questions, you must find Professor Snape or me immediately. Do you understand?"
Only after Peter agreed did Madam Pince let him go.