Title: A Smart Man

Harry was in the middle of contesting Gamp’s Law when Hermione said that, of all his schemes, this was the most harebrained one.

They sat in the Room of Requirement, looking the part of an average classroom. Harry had stacks of books nearby, and the legendary Diadem Ravenclaw on his head, hidden by an invisibility charm. Ron entertained himself with an old quidditch book, and Hermione fumed at Harry.

“I’m doing NEWT-level Arithmancy, writing a paper on Transmutation, and challenging one of Transfiguration’s oldest laws, Hermione,” Harry said.

Hermione crossed her arms. “And what does any of that prove?” She paused. “You cheat.”

Harry smirked. “That I could easily prove you’re being silly.”

And now, he could use the Diadem to find a way to beat Voldemort. To finally have a life of his own.

Ron sniggered, still reading his book. “He got you there, Hermione.”

She saw red. “You’re not being smart, that’s the Diadem doing all the work, like with that book! In fact, you are a dolt!”

The Diadem made his thoughts fly. Ideas half-formed and memories were summoned by Hermione’s words.

“A dolt.”

Dazedly, he excused himself. Ron followed him, but Harry paid no mind.

“You okay there, Harry?” Ron asked. He rushed Harry’s pace as they crossed the corridors.

“I stuck my wand up a troll’s nose,” Harry said. “Come on, you’re a wizard, Harry!”

“Uh, that was years ago. Your wand still kind of smells, though.”

Harry whirled at him. “I didn’t notice Voldemort’s anagram either. It was right there.”

“I don’t think anybody guessed that one, mate.”

“It’s wordplay Ron. Wordplay! Not making the Philosopher’s Stone.”

Ron rose his hands in surrender.

Harry stewed in silence. “Hey Ron,” he finally said.

“What?”

“I think we had a chance with Parvati and Padma back then.”

Ron’s eyes widened. “Hitting the bludger, quaffle through the hoop, or catching the Snitch?”

“Catching the Snitch.”

“Oh man…”

It was the start of a long, difficult day.

---

Harry escaped his friends after checkmating Ron for the third time.

“I don’t like the Diadem, Harry,” Ron had said, sullenly reorganizing the pieces.

He was beginning to agree with him and Hermione. She had apologized for insulting him, but he didn’t resent her. She was right.

Harry’s feet took him to the Astronomy Tower, far from everybody.

It was like he was suffocating, drowning in these spiraling ideas. Of failure, mistakes and death.

Harry entered the Tower, and perched himself on a railing. His gaze fell, watching the courtyard from Hogwarts's tallest peak. The Diadem was heavy on his head, and the night was cold.

“It’s a long way down to the bottom,” he mused.

Yet, it felt right there. With just one step-

“A lovely night, isn’t it?” A voice said behind him. Harry flinched. “If you take the time to look at it.”

“Professor Dumbledore!”

“I hope you won’t mind my company, Harry. An unfortunate quirk of old age is that sleep becomes a daunting task. Nightly strolls are a routine of mine.”

“It’s alright, I was just leaving.”

“Ah, I see. Before that, indulge me for a second.” Dumbledore peered at Harry. “A certain artifact I recently acquired at great pains is missing, and with your penchant for adventures, I wonder if you can offer me any insights.”

Harry’s cheeks went warm. He dispelled the invisibility on the Diadem. “Sorry Professor, I shouldn’t have taken it without asking. I was just,” he trailed off.

“Desperate for a solution.”

Dumbledore smiled. “No need to return it just yet.” He moved, standing next to Harry. “Pardon my presumptuousness, but it seems you had a difficult day.”

Harry was quiet for a second. “Yeah. I guess I know myself better now, and I didn’t like what I saw.”

“An awful thing to realize, for sure. Self-awareness can be harmful, if we don’t know how to be kind to ourselves.”

He immediately saw through it. “It’s not about that, sir. Everyone is counting on me, but I’m not good enough,” Harry said, heatedly. “I keep making mistakes, losing, not focusing on the big picture. It’s been like that my whole life, and it took me sixteen years to notice. I thought, if only I was smarter, better...”

Mistakes replayed in his mind. The impossibility of a mediocre wizard defeating Voldemort. Things that he could have done better. Cedric, Sirius…

Dumbledore hummed. “Do you know Rowena Ravenclaw’s thoughts on the Diadem, Harry? An imperfect creation, she wrote. Curious, considering the Diadem works exactly as intended.”

Harry frowned, at a loss.

“The Diadem was to be her greatest creation. It would take her intellect to heights never seen. However, she grew haunted by her own thoughts. Her potions, that could have been more stable. Spells that weren’t practical enough. A thousand little faults in Hogwarts, her and the Founders’ legacy. And those poisonous thoughts inevitably turned to her friends, family, and herself. All victories and good things in her life seemed incomplete, hollow.”

Harry was all too familiar with that feeling. “What did she do?” he asked, curiosity roused.

Dumbledore looked up at the starry sky. “As I said, she accomplished many great things, but never did break the hold these thoughts had on her. She was successful and left a great legacy, but I suspect, had a less than happy life.”

“It’s hard. I can’t find the right solutions, and nothing I can do will be enough. I feel paralyzed, I feel…”

“That if there’s no right choice, why act at all?”

Harry looked at him desperately, hopefully. “You understand it, sir?”

Dumbledore gave him a serene smile. “More than you could know, Harry. A story for another time. I decided to acknowledge my mistakes and learn from them, but also assign a fair value to my accomplishments.” Dumbledore looked at his gloved hand, eyes glinting with nostalgia. “It’s been a life well-lived, despite the difficulties. A terrible part of our nature; to give so much more weight to our faults than to our strengths.”

Harry sighed. “I haven’t accomplished anywhere as much as you, sir.”

“Truly? I seem to remember a fair number of victories on the Quidditch pitch, respectable grades, and friends that would follow you through the greatest perils,” Dumbledore said with mirth. “How is that for the boy who lived in the cupboard under the stairs?”

Different, vivid memories came to his mind. The rush of hundreds of people cheering for him. The first time he got the Patronus right. The Weasleys, Hermione, all of his friends.

A shy, tentative smile grew on his lips. “Not bad at all, is it?”

With his head lighter, Harry removed the Diadem.

“I daresay it’s not! And there's much more, if you look into it. I myself am far from perfect. I have awful caligraphy, a widely criticized fashion sense, and after decades, cannot communicate with Fawkes well.” He leaned for a conspiratory whisper. “He detests my accent, you see, and has no patience to teach me. I had to practice with chickens.”

Harry frowned, and then put back the Diadem on. “Did you really talk with chickens, Professor?”

“I did. And I am truly glad that nobody in the Prophet witnessed it. It would certainly have hurt my case after their senility accusations.”

The Diadem was made to decipher Magic and the Universe’s greatest mysteries. And Harry still couldn’t tell if Dumbledore was messing with him.

He returned the Diadem to Dumbledore, chuckling. The artifact had met its match.

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “Well Harry, my mental faculties aside, what is the smart thing to do now?

For once, Harry didn’t need help. He thanked the Professor, and walked back to the Common Room. The hallways weren't narrow and dark anymore. He caressed the ancient stone, feeling the pricks of magic. He remembered good times in Hogwarts. His home.

So many memories.

Soon, Harry was back in the Common Room. Ron and Hermione were arguing about something, but immediately stopped when Hermione caught sight of him. She nudged in his direction for Ron’s sake.

He smiled wryly. “Sorry to make you guys worry. I’m better now.”

Harry plopped himself down on the sofa, enduring their watchful eyes.

“You sure?” Ron asked.

“Yeah, I think so.”

And Harry did the smart thing.

They talked, played games, laughed. It was one of his best nights in a while.

Harry had responsibilities, a mission he didn’t know how to accomplish, people counting on him. It was a lot to take in. But he had moments like these, too. It was far from perfect, but that didn’t mean it was a bad life.

“Yeah. I’m glad to be alive.”

 

1445 words

 

Spoiler

Okay yeah, I like this one. The prose and writing itself needs a bit of an edit, since it seems... I guess I 'felt' like there were too many really short paragraphs? Even though we had a lot of dialogue and you didn't have many words to work with, it sort of stuck out to me.

But at the same time I think this is great idea for a flash piece. It's a full story that fits into the required word count and 'feels' like canon, so kudos for that. I hope to see it fleshed out a bit / edited at some point.

Really refreshing, to see the diadem and Dumbledore and Hogwarts like this.