The Diadem

Snape took a damaged lamp from his schoolbag and casually tossed it somewhere conspicuous.

That way, if anyone became curious about why he had come here, he would have a suitable excuse.

Then he walked between the shafts of light cast by the high windows, searching for a Troll specimen.

The diadem should have been somewhere near the specimen.

He looked up and saw nothing but heaps of junk in every color.

Snape could not help wondering whether Tom Riddle's mind had long since been ruined by his fragmented soul.

Otherwise, how could he have thought he was the only one capable of entering this place?

At last, he found the Troll specimen.

Passing it and following the aisle onward, he came across an old Vanishing Cabinet.

"Wait."

Snape stopped and turned to look at the cabinet again.

After a moment's thought, he drew his Wand and took careful aim.

"Sectumsempra!"

A sharp blast cracked through the air like a bullet. The wooden cabinet, which had stood quietly in place, was torn apart in an instant, splinters and fragments flying everywhere.

Snape bent down and stuffed several broken pieces of wood into his schoolbag, then clapped his hands in satisfaction.

"Now the Vanishing Cabinet definitely can't be used, right?"

Not far from the wreckage of the Vanishing Cabinet, a large cabinet with blistered surfaces came into view.

It had to be around here.

Snape used his Wand to cut off a section of his robe sleeve, then used the sleeve as a barrier to grab a rusty longsword from the top of a pile of clutter.

Using the sword, he rummaged through the heaps of junk and picked out every item that could be worn on the head.

Finally, amid a mess of old headpieces, Snape spotted a tarnished diadem.

Tiny words were engraved along its lower edge: Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure.

The instant he read those words clearly, a powerful impulse suddenly surged up from deep within Snape.

He wanted to place Ravenclaw's Diadem upon his head.

He could clearly sense that it would grant him supreme wisdom and endless glory.

Snape's legs began to tremble. As if drawn by some invisible force, he involuntarily dropped to his knees before the diadem.

He slowly reached out his hand.

The moment his fingertips touched the diadem, an electric thrill spread through his entire body.

His mind raced, and Snape's thoughts had never been clearer. On one side was a frenzied thirst for wisdom and power; on the other, cold rationality struggled desperately to resist.

Just as the diadem was about to touch his head, Snape abruptly shut his eyes and hurled it away with all his strength.

"Damn it, what the hell was that?" he cursed between heavy breaths. "Harry and the others didn't run into any danger when they got hold of this thing..."

"Could it be that they only came into contact with the diadem after Fiendfyre destroyed it?"

Snape tried hard to recall the original plot.

"That must be it. Things started going wrong the moment I read that motto... In that case, I need to avoid that."

He removed the piece of sleeve wrapped around the sword and waved his Wand. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The sleeve rose from the floor, drifted down slowly, and covered the ancient, faded diadem.

Just as he was about to pick up the diadem through the cloth, he realized that this was still extremely risky.

"Hmm... Before Fiendfyre burned the diadem, Harry seemed not to have touched it either. So it wasn't just a matter of reading the inscription."

He used his Wand to move the sleeve aside again, then aimed at the diadem and tried casting several spells on it, but it did not react at all.

After covering the diadem again, Snape could not help but worry, unsure what to do.

After standing there and thinking for a while, he realized that hiding it for now was his only option.

At Snape's command, all kinds of junk spun into the air, then stacked themselves one by one atop the diadem.

Before long, the third pile of clutter to the left of the Vanishing Cabinet's wreckage looked no different from the surrounding heaps.

Snape pressed his ear to the door and listened to the sounds outside for a while. Then he slung his schoolbag over his back, slipped quietly out, and turned to watch the door transform back into a stone wall behind him.

"Oh, crap!"

He had barely managed to glance at the battered watch on his wrist before sprinting toward the stairs.

"No, I'm going to be late for the first Defense Against the Dark Arts class..."

Outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Snape came to a sudden stop.

He knocked lightly on the door, interrupting Professor Grubbly-Plank mid-sentence.

"Come in."

He carefully pulled open the door and stepped inside.

"Sorry I'm late, Professor. I—"

A wave of jeers came from one corner of the classroom. Among them, James Potter's smile was particularly bright.

Professor Grubbly-Plank shot that direction a stern glare.

"Name. House." She turned back to Snape and spoke stiffly.

"Severus Snape, Slytherin."

"This class began five minutes ago, Snape. I do not want you to be late again. Now find an empty seat."

Snape took his schoolbag off his back and carried it in one hand. Keeping himself hunched and trying not to make a sound, he walked over to Aber's side.

"What happened to you?" Aber asked, looking at the missing section of Snape's sleeve.

"Shh—" Snape pointed at Professor Grubbly-Plank, who was magically unfurling several pictures. "Later."

"As I was just saying, you will soon be leaving the school grounds, and the world outside is far more dangerous than Hogwarts."

Professor Grubbly-Plank pointed her Wand at the pictures. They showed people being tortured, gruesome wounds, and twisted, mutated limbs.

"Among Dark Magic, the three Unforgivable Curses are the most evil."

She tapped several of the pictures heavily with her Wand.

"Using any one of them on a human being is enough to earn you a life sentence in Azkaban.

"This witch, convulsing violently and screaming in agony, was struck by the Cruciatus Curse. It causes extreme pain.

"This Wizard, leaning calmly against the wall, was struck by the Killing Curse. Though he bears not a single wound, he is completely and utterly dead."

"As for the Imperius Curse," Professor Grubbly-Plank said as she stepped down from the platform and paced around the classroom, "there is almost no outward sign that anything is wrong with those affected by it.

"But you will act according to the caster's will. The caster can make you point your Wand at your own head, or kill your own family with your own hands..."

She walked around to the other side of the classroom, then headed back toward the platform.

"You must fully understand what you may face in the future. I hope you will give this course the attention it deserves, rather than merely treating it as something to pass an exam."

The classroom was silent. It seemed as though every student had stopped breathing.

"All right, there is no need for everyone to be overly nervous."

Professor Grubbly-Plank stood at the platform, facing the students.

"In the lessons ahead, I will do my best to help you improve your ability to defend against Dark Magic."