Coming out of his thoughts, he looked around to get his bearings. The corridor was empty—windows on one side and a smooth, seamless wall without doors on the other. Several rather meaningless paintings and portraits of unknown wizards with quite "charming" faces hung far apart from one another.
Harry turned back to better sense the spot where the call grew stronger. He found the place—between the portrait of some disheveled bearded man and a painting of dancing trolls—but the wall was solid, without any protrusions or indentations. Hesitating for a moment, he decided to continue walking, but kept this spot in mind, just in case. As he caught a ripple in the flat surface of the wall in his peripheral vision, a tall wooden door suddenly appeared, adorned with carvings and metal details.
Obeying the call and paying no further attention to anything else, the boy opened the door and, without hesitation, stepped into the room, where the CALL was pulling him with the force of a bright flame draws a moth. Barely standing on his shaky legs, he stood still for a moment as the door closed behind him on its own.
The enormous room, full of shelves overloaded with unknown junk and buried under tons of dust, lost in shadowy twilight, didn't interest the boy much. With blazing eyes, he searched for the source of this strange attraction. On the shelves, he saw broken brooms, boxes of unknown purpose, books and more books, faded rags, a crystal ball, several shovels, and purses with crests of unknown families. None of it was what was calling him so strongly. His gaze suddenly stopped on a plaster bust standing on top of a cabinet, draped with a dirty cloth. The call came from there.
With determined steps, Harry approached the place where the bust was on the highest shelf. But as he got closer, it turned out that the furniture it stood on wasn't as small as it had seemed from a distance. It was too high to reach by hand, so the boy chose a magical approach.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted impatiently, directing his wand at the plaster figure. With careful and precise wand movements, he lowered the flying sculpture to the floor and quickly removed the cloth.
Underneath, on the bust's head, was some kind of adornment—an old woman's headdress made of tarnished silver. A pretty diadem, adorned with a few dull stones that strongly resembled simple glass.
The intensified CALL pushed all thoughts out of the boy's head, preventing him from thinking or examining the find. Without wasting any more time or considering the possible consequences, he took the diadem and carefully placed it on his messy, dark-haired head.
A foreign voice, just like yesterday after waking up in the hospital wing, echoed in the boy's mind.
"Ahhh! How long I have rested; it's time for me to act. And who is my victim this time?"
The experience from yesterday's grave-like conversations within his own mind didn't scare Harry this time, but spurred him to act immediately.
"State your name!" he commanded forcefully to his visitor and received an instant reply: "Tom Marvolo Riddle." The boy's next command followed immediately: "Do you see the glowing orb? Touch it!" And after that, he finally fainted onto the dusty floor.
How long he was unconscious, Harry couldn't tell, but he woke fully when it was already dark outside the dirt-streaked windows. A pleasant female voice softly spoke in his mind about the use of Charms for spatial expansion. Chuckling at the unexpected thought that his brain had become a thoroughfare for all sorts of uninvited guests, and listening a bit more to the intriguing charms, Harry removed the diadem and felt hunger pangs. Looking around, he noticed his much-suffering tray not far from him. Thanks to his magic, it hadn't yet fallen to the ground but hovered in the air, which both puzzled and delighted the Hero of the Wizarding World. Harry knew full well that in his state, he wouldn't have been above picking it up from the floor and eating it, but thankfully that wasn't necessary.
Completely devouring the meal and beginning to digest it allowed his brain to switch back on and process information. He became curious about how he could see so well in the dark.
Until yesterday, even in broad daylight with his glasses, the world had seemed slightly blurry and unclear, but now even the darkness was no obstacle for him. Relishing his new ability for a moment, he sat down and began examining the strange talking headdress. An inner voice hinted at the treasure he had found in this odd room.
"Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem! I've found the artifact of wisdom and intellect in the Room of Requirement!" he thought excitedly, admiring the soft bluish glow emanating from the inside of the diadem's metal.
Chains of thought—logical, precise—began forming in his mind, possible only with the help of the Founder's artifact.
"I won't even think about who it rightfully belongs to. I'm using it alone, period," Harry decided, and tucked Rowena's diadem into the inner pocket of his robe.
Feeling a bit playful, he tossed the empty tray far into the room and, with a sense of righteousness, exited the room, closing the door behind him. When he looked back to see where it had been, the door was no longer visible. Once again, the wall between the troll ballerinas in pink tutus and the angry bearded man gleamed in the moonlight, empty.
Shrugging his shoulders, Harry headed for the Gryffindor Tower.
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