Chapter 202: The Cleansed Diadem and a Gift from Innes
At nine o'clock that evening, Ethan bid Albert and Sofia goodnight and went up to his room. It was still early, though, and he had no intention of going to sleep just yet. There was something else he needed to do.
He retrieved the restored Ravenclaw's Diadem from his bag and set it on his desk, admiring the way its enchanted metal gleamed with a captivating luster under the lamplight. The Diadem had been free of its Horcrux taint for several days now, but this was the first time he had taken it out since leaving school. The previous night, he'd been preoccupied with whether the potion would work on Cyril, and given the mental fatigue that came with using the Diadem, he'd decided against it. But today's treatment at St. Mungo's had proven the potion worked, and with his worries put to rest, he finally felt ready to start using the remarkable artifact here at home.
He lifted the Diadem, tilting it above his head. Before placing it on, he thought, *Hopefully, this time, I can solve all the remaining problems.*
He was no stranger to the Diadem's ability to "enhance" wisdom. His history with the artifact dated back to the day he first learned about Horcruxes. After obtaining Fawkes's tears that day in the Headmaster's office, he had been torn over whether to immediately use a tear to purify the relic that Voldemort had corrupted. The internal debate had kept him tossing and turning late into the night, but in the end, he decided that very evening to carry out the plan he had been considering for months.
When choosing a location, he had avoided the Room of Requirement and instead headed into the Forbidden Forest outside the castle. He had done so primarily because he suspected that the Room of Requirement was actually Rowena Ravenclaw's secret chamber. He had no idea if the Diadem, being another of the founder's artifacts, might react in some unforeseen way with the room during the purification process. He was not willing to take that gamble.
After slipping out of the castle and flying invisibly into the forest, he had ventured deep into a previously scouted clearing, far from any centaur or werewolf territories. To ensure his safety, he had thoroughly checked the area, confirming there were no creatures nearby that posed a threat. Using a branch, he had transfigured a small table, a chair, and a little stand. He had lit his wand with Lumos and placed it on the stand as a light source. Only then had he taken the Diadem, wrapped in layers of cloth, and the small vial of tears from his bag and set them on the table.
After removing the protective wrappings, he finally held the Diadem in his hands, an object he'd barely touched since acquiring it. He activated his special sight to check the soul fragment's location. *Still in the central sapphire. Hasn't moved. I wonder if that's a sign the Horcrux hasn't been activated yet.* He cast Muffliato to silence any noise the purification might produce, preventing it from disturbing the forest's denizens.
Then, pulling the stopper from the vial, he tilted it gently, watching a single, shimmering tear slide slowly down the clear glass. *Plink.* The sound of the tear hitting the Diadem was tiny, but to him, it seemed deafening, perhaps due to his heightened nerves. The droplet didn't slide off the smooth sapphire like ordinary water. Instead, it soaked in rapidly, vanishing into the gem's surface in the blink of an eye.
Before he could even set the empty vial down, the Diadem began to vibrate, rattling against the table with a clatter. Then, with a long, piercing shriek that seemed to stab right through his eardrums, a plume of black smoke started to pour from the artifact. Startled by how quickly the reaction began, he dropped the empty vial onto the table and clamped his hands over his ears, his eyes fixed intently on the Diadem.
Through his special vision, he saw that the black smoke was merely an outward manifestation. The underlying reality was that the soul fragment, which had been relatively intact, was now disintegrating under the influence of the phoenix tear. It shattered into five or six pieces, and those pieces continued to splinter into even smaller fragments. The disintegration of the soul produced both the smoke and the unearthly screaming. When the last of the corrupted soul was finally purged, the smoke ceased, and the scream cut off abruptly.
In that final moment, Ethan caught a glimpse of Voldemort's appearance as represented by that particular soul fragment. *It looks exactly like the piece that was possessing Quirrell. That suggests that Voldemort's physical appearance hasn't changed since at least the creation of this Horcrux. Still, that same red-eyed, noseless, bald creature. No wonder Dumbledore turned him down for the Defense Against the Dark Arts job. He looks like a villain straight out of a storybook.*
Ethan had picked up the Diadem and examined it carefully from every angle, even extinguishing his wand light and examining it in complete darkness for a long time. Once he was absolutely certain there were no remaining glimmers of soul fragments or residual flecks, he cast Scourgify. This time, the charm had worked flawlessly. Stubborn grime that had resisted all previous cleaning attempts vanished in an instant. The Diadem was restored to its original splendor. The sapphire sparkled brilliantly, and the unique metal gleamed with a bright inner light.
After casting two additional detection spells, Ethan carefully placed the legendary artifact on his head. The first time hadn't gone well. The Diadem had been crafted specifically for Rowena Ravenclaw herself, and the sizing wasn't quite right for him. The large circlet had slipped through his hair and settled uncomfortably on his ears. But despite the poor fit, he couldn't afford to take the time to adjust it. The moment it touched his head, his mind had begun racing. Countless thoughts and ideas flooded his consciousness: a chaotic jumble of both long-standing problems and fleeting, everyday curiosities.
*That pudding this morning was undercooked for about thirty seconds. No wonder it didn't taste quite right.*
*That failed potion of mine, if I added just one more gram of powdered moonstone, could that solve the issue?*
*That other potion I made has a slight flaw. If I don't fix it, there could be some adverse side effects.*
Within a single minute, five or six such thoughts had raced through his mind. Though unrelated to each other, they were all questions he'd already considered. Under the Diadem's influence, the answers surfaced all at once, and each one seemed obvious. Fearing he would be overwhelmed by even more ideas, he quickly removed the Diadem.
*I'm so tired.*
The frantic flurry of thoughts vanished, replaced by a wave of profound exhaustion. For the next ten minutes, he couldn't even think through the simplest questions he could normally answer with ease. It felt like the mental blankness and fogginess that followed an all-night cram session and an intense, draining exam.
*Phew. Finally back to normal.* After ten minutes of staring blearily around him, Ethan felt his mind clear. He ran his thumb over the sapphire, thinking, *The Diadem's so-called wisdom enhancement is more like a loan. It boosts the brain's processing power several times over for a brief period, draining all available mental energy. The cost is subsequent mental fatigue and depletion. And the boost isn't the focused concentration of true engagement. It's a broad, indiscriminate amplification. The effect is powerful, but the heightened mental state scatters in every direction. That's why it ended up solving pointless questions like why my breakfast pudding was subpar. It's a bit absurd.*
Having worked through his observations, he felt he now had a basic understanding of how the Diadem functioned. He jotted down the few useful insights he'd gathered, then prepared for a second attempt. With that first experience under his belt, he was more cautious this time. Besides adjusting the fit, he actively tried to rein in his thoughts, channeling the enhanced brainpower toward the specific problems he wanted to solve most. As expected, the focused approach yielded better results. Although more than half his thoughts still spun off into irrelevant tangents, he made significant progress on the potion problem that had stumped him earlier, identifying several new potential solutions.
He removed the Diadem, fought off the overwhelming urge to sleep, and hastily scribbled his findings on a piece of parchment. Only after getting everything down did he let his eyes close and his exhausted mind rest. Since he'd managed to maintain some control this time, the answers he'd gathered were more coherent and more likely to work than the wildly scattered ideas from his first attempt.
After a while, he set down the parchment and mentally walked through the potion-brewing process based on his new ideas. *It's viable. If I proceed along this line of reasoning, it should work.* He opened his eyes, a hint of satisfaction on his face.
*I've only used it twice, but I can already draw some preliminary conclusions. Recovery time seems to be roughly ten times the duration of use, though I still need to determine if there's an upper limit to how long it can be safely worn. For now, five minutes doesn't seem to produce any lasting negative effects. It's crucial to use the Diadem in a safe location, because the mental fatigue lowers one's guard, making one vulnerable to danger. And the thoughts tend to scatter wildly; I need to find a way to focus them more effectively, or I'll waste a good portion of the enhancement.*
*The Diadem is incredibly useful, but its power seems better suited for overcoming specific obstacles rather than for everyday use.* That realization had struck him suddenly.
After writing down his observations and insights from both sessions, Ethan had returned to his dormitory. Just before falling asleep, a new thought had occurred to him. *I wonder if this state of mental exhaustion will improve my sleep quality?* He glanced at his three sleeping roommates, then used the Diadem for a shallow ten-minute session. After fighting through the fatigue just long enough to record his findings, he collapsed onto his bed and fell into a deep sleep.
His theory had proven correct. He had woken the next morning feeling remarkably refreshed, more so than after a typical night's rest. In the days that followed, he had frequently spent nights away from the dormitory, using the Room of Requirement as a safe place to wear the Diadem and refine his potion formulas. By the time the holidays arrived, he had resolved all but the final obstacle to completing the entire set of recipes.
Now, in his bedroom at home, the blond boy removed the Diadem at ten o'clock. Yawning, he scrawled his latest insights onto a piece of paper, his handwriting so hasty that many of the letters overlapped and ran together. Once he had captured everything, he clicked off the desk lamp and flopped onto his bed, snoring almost immediately.
The next morning, Ethan woke on his own, stretched lazily, and spent some time organizing the previous night's notes before heading downstairs to have breakfast with his parents.
"What time are you heading to the hospital?" Albert asked him.
Ethan swallowed a bite of toast and did a quick mental calculation. "Around eleven, I think. I told Grandfather I'd bring him lunch."
Sofia nodded. "Alright, then we'll have our lunch a bit early today."
At midday, Ethan packed up the meal and returned to St. Mungo's Hospital in central London. The reception area was just as chaotic as the day before, with witches and wizards in various states of distress lining up at the inquiries desk. He slipped through the crowd and headed straight for the fifth floor.
When he entered the familiar ward, he found Cyril alone. The bed Innes had occupied was now empty. Ethan pulled the packed lunch from his bag. "Grandfather, time to eat. Has Innes been discharged?"
"Yes, he left this morning. The food can wait a moment; let me finish this first." Cyril was writing something on a piece of paper. After a short while, he finished and beckoned Ethan over. "All right, close the door and come here."
"What is it?" Ethan shut the door and walked over to Cyril.
"This is a gift for you from Innes. You weren't here this morning, so he asked me to pass it along." Cyril pointed to a stack of parchment on the table.
"What is it?" Ethan picked up the top sheet with curiosity. It was covered with rows of neatly arranged pictograms.
"Egyptian hieroglyphs. These are rubbings taken by Innes's ancestor from inscriptions in Egypt." Cyril smiled.
"Ancient Egyptian writing?" It dawned on Ethan that this was the hieroglyphic script from ancient Egypt, used thousands of years ago and long since fallen into disuse.
"Exactly. These inscriptions contain information about various pyramids from the time of the pharaohs. Since pyramids served as tombs for the pharaohs, there are only so many of them. Innes's ancestor took these rubbings from a pyramid that had already been explored and documented. They include the general location of the pyramid we are looking for, the one that holds the Book of the Dead." Cyril paused, then added, "However, the accuracy of this information is highly questionable. If it were reliable, the Innes family would have found something in the hundred-plus years they've had it. But in my hands, it's a different story. Combined with the clues left by Henry and the others, I've managed to narrow down its possible location even further." As he spoke, genuine pleasure crossed Cyril's face. He hadn't expected such a fortunate windfall right before their departure.
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