Ravenclaw's Diadem

"What was his name?" The Grey Lady showed a frightened expression. "He gave himself a name that no one else dared to call him. The Trophy Room has his trophy." It seemed that The Grey Lady had no intention of speaking He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's name. But Allen already knew. The name no one in the entire Magical World dared to utter could only belong to the Dark Lord.

Allen felt wronged. Although he was indeed outstanding, how could he possibly resemble the ambitious Voldemort? "You think I'm like him? But I didn't deceive you!"

"I don't... know... He was... flattering. He seemed to... understand... sympathy..." The Grey Lady closed her eyes, seeming to reminisce and regret at the same time.

"Did he take something very important from you?" Allen asked softly.

"It was indeed very important, but it did not belong to me." The Grey Lady's voice was filled with bitterness.

"If you can, please describe it carefully. Perhaps I can help you find it." Allen was utterly sincere. He had the ability, and he was willing to help The Grey Lady.

"You? Generation after generation of students have forced me to reveal where it went. No one can resist its allure..." Following The Grey Lady's gaze, Allen saw Rowena Ravenclaw's head. Ravenclaw's Diadem rested there. Although it was only a statue, the Diadem's splendor and exquisite craftsmanship were still apparent.

"So Ravenclaw's Diadem was what you were tricked out of. No one can resist the temptation of increased intelligence, but wise people know that true strength always comes from within." Allen's tone was steady, but his words struck a nerve with The Grey Lady.

"You don't understand. This Diadem does far more than increase one's intelligence. More importantly, it brings knowledge—knowledge that increases wealth!" The Grey Lady seemed enraged. She looked at Allen with contempt, as though he were an exceptionally ignorant person.

There really was more to this. Allen became even more certain of it.

"Come talk to me again when you can find Ravenclaw's Diadem." The Grey Lady seemed to think further discussion was pointless. She turned and vanished into the statue.

"The Diadem?" Allen smiled and shook his head before returning to the dormitory. Edward was sleeping soundly, seemingly completely unaware that Allen had left. After washing up quickly, Allen drifted into sleep.

The next day, although Allen had gone to bed late, he still rose early to prepare for his morning training. The more he practiced the Basic Body Refining Technique, the more he could feel his own agility and strength. Allen immersed himself in the growth of this power and was equally intoxicated by the wonders of the magical world.

But today, he also studied Master Geber's Alchemy notes, because some things might need to be prepared in advance, such as a Diadem. Giving a Diadem the ability to increase intelligence was simply too marvelous!

At breakfast, when the Owls flocked into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was drawn to a long, slender package carried by six long-eared Owls. The Owls flew toward the Gryffindor table and landed in front of Harry.

From afar, Allen saw the unconcealed joy on Harry's face and immediately guessed the contents of the package. Harry must have received his first Flying Broomstick—the Nimbus 2000.

But there was nothing to envy. Allen himself owned the high-performing Neptune. He quickly poured the oatmeal in his bowl into his mouth. Allen was going to see Professor Flitwick, Ravenclaw's Head of House. Professor Flitwick had just sent Allen a note by owl, telling him to see him after breakfast.

"Allen, I am delighted to see another exceptionally outstanding wizard emerge from our house. Your performance in every subject has been excellent. Even Professor Snape has had to acknowledge that. But life holds many beautiful sights and interesting things beyond books and study, waiting for you to explore, try, and experience. Madam Pince told me that you spend nearly all your spare time in the library. I believe that continuing like this will not be good for your health," Professor Flitwick said earnestly.

It had to be said that Professor Flitwick was a responsible Head of House and a dependable teacher. He cared not only about his students' studies, but also about their lives and thoughts. That was truly rare.

"Thank you, Professor Flitwick! I'll pay attention to balancing my time and combining work with rest in the future. In fact, reading is a kind of enjoyment for me!" Allen was deeply moved and looked earnestly at Professor Flitwick.

"Oh, remarkable. So young, yet so studious. Perhaps that is why you are so much more outstanding than the other young wizards." Studious students always found it easy to win a teacher's favor.

"But are you interested in Quidditch?" Professor Flitwick asked.

"Quidditch? Professor, first-years aren't allowed to bring Flying Broomsticks, nor can they join the Quidditch team." Allen looked at Professor Flitwick in confusion, though he had a suspicion. Could it be the possibility he was thinking of?

"Yes, the rules are indeed like that. But I have just learned that Gryffindor's Harry Potter was specially recruited to become the youngest Seeker in a century. According to Madam Hooch, your talent is no worse than Potter's. Your brother Albert was an excellent Seeker when he attended school. I believe Ravenclaw can likewise specially recruit you as a Seeker. We haven't won the Quidditch championship trophy in a very long time—so long that I can barely remember when we last won it!" As expected, Professor Flitwick wanted to specially recruit Allen into the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.

Recalling the feeling of soaring through the sky on a broomstick during Flying Class, Allen agreed without hesitation.

Professor Flitwick was delighted. Allen was so steady and composed. His stature, far taller than that of the other students, coupled with his nimble movements, seemed to make victory possible.

"This isn't some old-fashioned Flying Broomstick. This is the Nimbus 2000. What did you say you had at home, Malfoy? A Comet 260?"

"Comets are quite flashy, but they're not even in the same league as a Nimbus."

"How would you know, Weasley? You can't even get hold of half a broomstick handle. I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twigs one by one."

It was Ron and Malfoy's voices. It sounded as though they were arguing over Flying Broomsticks.

"I hope you aren't fighting, children?" Professor Flitwick asked in his squeaky voice.