Weekends at Hogwarts were always a delight, though not for everyone.
At 7:50, Mikel, who had been lingering in the Great Hall for the past half hour, reluctantly put down his cutlery and headed for the dungeons, glancing back every few steps. He seemed desperate, as though hoping his friends might accompany him, or that someone might jinx him—anything to avoid this detention. He'd even welcome a trip to the Hospital Wing if it meant escaping.
But Kyle and Ryan never once looked up.
"I'm heading to the Quidditch Pitch later," Ryan said, as though completely unaware of Mikel's plight. He turned to Kyle. "They're recruiting two players this year. I'm going to try out; maybe I'll get picked."
"That's great! Which position are you aiming for?" Kyle replied, keeping his gaze firmly away from Mikel's pitiful expression at the door.
"Chaser, just like you," Ryan said, pouring himself a glass of juice. "Or maybe Keeper. I heard the competition for that spot isn't too fierce."
"I'm not sure," Kyle said thoughtfully. "But I think you should try out for both positions to see which one suits you best."
"That's my plan," Ryan agreed, taking another piece of toast. "Are you coming? We could go together."
"I'm not going," Kyle shook his head. "With Cedric in charge, I've got other things to do."
Since Harris graduated, Cedric had become the new team captain, responsible for recruiting new players and organizing training sessions.
They chatted a while longer, and by the time the hall was empty, the clock struck eight. Mikel was nowhere to be seen, presumably in the dungeons by now.
Ryan headed off toward the Quidditch Pitch, while Kyle made his way to the eighth floor. He walked back and forth along a particular corridor three times, murmuring, "I need a room where I can hide things."
Finally, a door appeared opposite a tapestry, as if it had always been there. Kyle stepped inside and closed it behind him.
Silence enveloped him. The room was as large as the Great Hall, its towering walls filled with the hidden remnants left by generations of Hogwarts students. Below were piles of rickety, broken furniture and thousands of books. Most of these were worthless, though some were dangerous banned books, cursed to jinx the reader if opened—bordering on dark magic.
While there were surely useful books among the piles, Kyle had neither the time nor patience to sift through them. The library offered more than enough reading material without the risk.
Continuing down rows cluttered with winged slingshots, Fanged Frisbees (some still hovering lifelessly), broken potion bottles, old clothing, opals, eggshells, and rusty iron swords, Kyle wove through this labyrinth of trash—or treasure.
Soon, he found what he was looking for: a Troll statue. Standing over ten feet tall, it was unmistakably conspicuous, even amidst the Room's strange treasures.
"It should be around here somewhere," Kyle muttered, scanning the passage in front of the Troll statue and stopping in front of a pile of particularly unattractive statues.
Each statue was crafted in the same garish style, uglier than the last. Compared to these grotesque figures, even Old Tom from the Leaky Cauldron could be considered handsome. Among the statues of wizards that looked like oversized House-elves, one stood out. It wasn't the ugliest, but it wore a rust-colored crown, set at a slight angle on its head.
Ravenclaw's Diadem.
Kyle took a deep breath. He'd seen it once before, during his first year, though only from a distance. He'd never dared to approach it back then. His original plan had been to bring it to Dumbledore if the time came when Dumbledore started seeking out Voldemort's Horcruxes. But in June, something had changed his mind.
The reason was Rowena Ravenclaw.
During his encounter in the Chamber of Secrets, Rowena had been the most reserved of the founders. She typically observed in silence while the other three spoke. The only thing she had told him directly was to practice Occlumency, and at the end, she'd mentioned the crown. If Kyle recalled correctly, her exact words were that he would have truly mastered Occlumency when he could wear the Diadem without it affecting him.
At the time, this hadn't seemed strange. After all, strengthening one's intellect could be viewed as a kind of magical influence, falling within the realm of Occlumency.
But recently, after seeing the Sorting Hat in Dumbledore's office, Kyle had begun to feel that something wasn't quite right. If a sword could be so carefully protected, what would happen if it were a Diadem that granted intelligence?
Even setting aside everything else—even if the Diadem had never been stolen by Helena, had never become a Horcrux, and had simply remained at Hogwarts all these years—would such an important artifact ever be used by a student, just like that?
And if, as Rowena Ravenclaw suggested, the Diadem was intended for Occlumency practice, it wouldn't have been used just once or twice but would need to be worn frequently. This seemed utterly implausible.
The notion of giving a student Ravenclaw's Diadem to practice Occlumency was preposterous. Unless Rowena Ravenclaw herself had been there to oversee its use, no headmaster would agree to such a risky and unprecedented idea.
Well, maybe Dumbledore would—but only him…
Rowena Ravenclaw could never have foreseen the character of Hogwarts' headmaster a thousand years into the future.
Besides, there were countless ways to practice and test Occlumency. Legilimens… Confundus Charm… even working with a Veela would do. Why use a Diadem? Wasn't that setting the bar a bit high?
It was like wanting to practice boxing and being handed a ten-centimeter-thick steel plate, with someone telling you you'd be successful when you could punch a hole through it.
Fine, but was that really necessary?
With Rowena Ravenclaw's wisdom, it was unlikely she hadn't considered these things, yet she still mentioned the Diadem. Was there some other meaning in her words?
After hesitating for several days, Kyle decided to go for it. Overthinking or not, he would at least take possession of the Diadem.
With his current Occlumency skills, he should be able to resist the influence of the Horcrux.
Probably…
Kyle donned his Shield Gloves and carefully picked up the Diadem. No curse triggered, no trace of mental magic stirred. The Diadem had simply lost its brilliance after being made into a Horcrux, leaving it dull and tarnished. If he were to take it to the Junk Shop in Diagon Alley, he doubted anyone would offer even a Sickle for it.
Looking closely, Kyle could just make out the faint engraving: "Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure."
He took off his Shield Gloves and held it directly in his hands, but still felt no reaction.
It seemed that, while both were Horcruxes, the Diadem was not as active as the Diary.
Kyle pulled out a box he had prepared in advance and placed the Diadem inside. This box, a gift from Nicolas Flamel, had held the Diary last year; it now held the Diadem, making it a fittingly specialized match.