Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as she exited Professor Weasley's office.
Harry's recommendation had been right—Professor Weasley was even more approachable than she'd imagined. As a student with an insatiable thirst for knowledge, Hermione often sought answers from professors. Most were quite willing to help.
Professor Snape, though—he was a different matter. To be honest, she was a little afraid of him. During Potions class, he always seemed to find absurd reasons to deduct points from Harry.
If she were the one constantly targeted by Snape...
Oh no. That would be unbearable.
Hermione shuddered at the thought.
Meanwhile, inside the office, Vison leaned back in his chair, his gaze wandering to the landscape painting on the far wall.
Wit-Sharpening Potion... wisdom...
Sometimes, all it takes is a subtle trigger to awaken long-buried memories. Like an old book whose pages are suddenly flipped open by a gust of wind, revealing faded words as if they had just been written.
Hermione's question—whether the Wit-Sharpening Potion could make someone smarter—stirred something in Vison's mind. Something far more significant than the potion.
Ravenclaw's Diadem.
Unlike the temporary effects of the potion, Ravenclaw's Diadem was said to truly enhance the wearer's wisdom. It had been enchanted by Rowena Ravenclaw herself.
But hadn't Voldemort already turned it into a Horcrux? Yes, he had.
And he'd hidden it...
The Room of Requirement.
As his thoughts cleared, Vison finally remembered the location of the Diadem.
Why hadn't he considered it before?
Vison had frequented the Room of Requirement as a student. It was quiet, tucked away, and perfect for getting things done without being disturbed. He'd entered that room countless times but had never once thought about the Diadem being there.
A treasure that could increase one's intelligence—who wouldn't want it?
That night, at precisely ten o'clock, Vison left his office and made his way toward the eighth floor of the castle. Moonlight streamed through the tall windows, casting soft shadows across the spiral staircase.
The Room of Requirement was located opposite a peculiar tapestry on the eighth floor. The tapestry depicted Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach trolls ballet. It was a well-known anecdote in the wizarding world: Barnabas had the delusion of teaching trolls ballet but ended up badly beaten for his efforts.
When Vison reached the tapestry, he paused. Despite his urgency, he couldn't help but smile at the absurd image before him. Then, collecting his thoughts, he focused.
Standing beside the tapestry, Vison closed his eyes and paced back and forth three times, muttering under his breath:
"I need a place to hide things."
On his third pass, a smooth door appeared in the wall opposite the tapestry.
Vison exhaled in relief—it still worked.
He entered.
What lay inside stunned him for a moment.
It was a massive junk room, like a maze packed with discarded treasures. Old furniture, dusty armor, torn robes, heaps of forgotten books—clearly, this was where generations of students and even professors had stashed what they wanted hidden.
Vison spotted a pot of shriveled Mandrakes, soil scattered around them like ancient crumbs.
The challenge now was clear—he didn't remember exactly where the Diadem had been placed.
He tried summoning it:
"Accio Ravenclaw's Diadem!"
But as expected, it didn't work. Horcruxes—especially one enchanted like this—would resist simple spells.
He'd have to search manually.
Navigating the cluttered space took time. It felt like searching for a single page in a collapsing library. Finally, his eyes caught something perched atop a tall cabinet.
It was a bust of a wizard, and on its head sat a dusty Coronet.
An antique design, the Diadem was shaped like an eagle, adorned with a large blue-green gemstone. Though dulled by dust, its craftsmanship stood out.
Vison's pulse quickened. He was almost certain—this had to be it.
Just to be sure, he whispered,
"Eldra."
A response flickered in his mind.
[Name: A Contaminated Magical Item]
[Status: Soul Contamination]
[Warning: Do Not Touch Directly]
The Tree of Wisdom had confirmed it. This was indeed the Diadem.
Quickly, Vison reached into his coat and pulled out a pair of dragonhide gloves. They could block most magical effects.
Wearing the gloves, he transfigured a nearby box into a ladder and leaned it against the cabinet. Climbing carefully, he reached out for the Diadem.
Even through the gloves, a chilling sensation seeped into his skin.
Was it real, or just his imagination?
Regardless, nothing dramatic happened. He carefully lifted the Diadem from the bust.
Then, as planned, he opened a small box he had prepared—a container made of wood struck by lightning. It was rumored that such wood could ward off evil, although Vison wasn't sure whether that was superstition or fact.
The box's interior was lined with protective spells meant to shield against dark magic.
He gently placed the Diadem inside. The box clicked shut automatically, sealing the contents with a protective charm.
Vison exhaled. One could never be too cautious with objects tainted by Voldemort. Horcruxes were notoriously dangerous.
He picked up the box, checked the time on his pocket watch—it had taken him nearly an hour. Most of it had gone into just locating the Diadem.
After scanning the room to ensure he'd left no trace behind, Vison made his way toward the exit.
But just as he stepped outside the Room of Requirement, he froze.
A familiar figure stood silently in front of the tapestry.
Albus Dumbledore.
The headmaster stood with his hands behind his back, his long silver beard shimmering under the moonlight. He seemed to be studying the tapestry with amusement.
Vison's heart raced. His fingers tightened around the box.
Why was Dumbledore here—right now?
"Good evening, Mr.—"
Dumbledore turned at the sound of the door closing and paused, recognizing him.
"Ah, it's you, Professor Vison. I thought it was some night-wandering young wizard."
Vison forced a smile, trying to stay calm.
"Good evening, Professor Dumbledore," he said casually. "I left a few things in the Room. Old books and notes from my school days."
As he spoke, he subtly lifted the box in his hand.
Dumbledore gave him a kind nod, apparently satisfied.
And just like that, the moment passed.
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