Harry Potter: Magic and Guns

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Snape's bizarre "exorcism" ritual, to be honest, left Harry utterly astonished.

He had always thought that dealing with curses would involve something dramatic, like wielding a wand or a gun and firing off rapid incantations, accompanied by sparks flying everywhere and an uproar of magical chaos.

Instead, it turned out to be a matter of tossing the cursed objects into a cauldron and brewing them in a potion. Snape's potions, needless to say, were infamous—not only for their effects but also for their utterly revolting taste, color, and texture. If Harry hadn't known what was happening, any uninformed observer would have assumed that Snape was desecrating the Hogwarts Founders' relics with some unspeakably vile method.

The only consolation was that the sticky, foul-smelling potion didn't cling to the golden diadem or the gemstone ring. Once retrieved, they didn't even require rinsing, and not a trace of the stench lingered on them.

Under the light, Ravenclaw's diadem gleamed brilliantly, stealing the show. Compared to the Resurrection Stone ring beside it, the diadem's elegance remained unparalleled, even by modern standards. Once again, Harry marveled at the superior aesthetic sense of ancient wizards.

"Is it really done?"

Harry asked Snape uncertainly.

"Why don't you give it a try?"

Snape handed Ravenclaw's diadem to Harry, adding with a smirk, "Although, with a head as large as yours, wearing it might be a bit of a challenge."

"Big-headed people are the smart ones," Harry muttered, rolling his eyes at Snape. Still, he couldn't deny his growing interest in the diadem.

According to the legends of the four Founders, Ravenclaw was the wisest among them, and her diadem was a symbol of her intelligence. This wasn't just a metaphor—the diadem was said to grant extraordinary wisdom to its wearer.

However, Ravenclaw's diadem had been stolen by her daughter, Helena. Perhaps Helena had felt overwhelmed by the pressure of being compared to her exceptionally talented mother, Rowena Ravenclaw. People often spoke of Helena in terms of her mother's unparalleled brilliance.

In the shadow of such excellence, Helena inevitably seemed inadequate, unable to match her mother's accomplishments. She had stolen the diadem in hopes of becoming smarter. Ravenclaw, concealing the theft, kept it a secret until she fell gravely ill and neared the end of her life. At that point, she desperately wanted to see her daughter again and sent the Bloody Baron to find her.

The Baron tracked Helena to the forests of Albania, where an argument broke out. Refusing to return, Helena was killed by the Baron in a fit of rage. Overwhelmed with remorse, the Baron took his own life.

Until her death, Ravenclaw never got to see her daughter again.

It was a tragic story. Yet, as the centerpiece of this tale, the diadem had acquired an aura of profound mystery.

Some claimed it was Ravenclaw's intelligence alone that made her extraordinary and that the diadem had no real power. After all, if the diadem truly bestowed unparalleled wisdom, how had Helena, while wearing it, been found and killed by the Baron?

Others argued that the diadem did indeed grant incredible intelligence—otherwise, why would Helena, Ravenclaw's own daughter, have gone so far as to steal it? This suggested the diadem's power was irresistible, even to her.

Regardless of the theories, now that the diadem was in Harry's hands, all the speculation could be put to rest with a simple test.

Feeling a mixture of excitement and trepidation, Harry carefully lifted the diadem. Along its edge was engraved Ravenclaw's famous motto: Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure. 

On the inside of the diadem, however, there was another inscription—one invisible to ordinary eyes. The magical glow emanating from Ravenclaw's creation was a unique blend of bronze and deep blue, contrasting with Gryffindor's more orderly hues. Rowena Ravenclaw clearly belonged to a neutral alignment.

"My excessive intelligence alienates me from this world." 

Harry stared at the words in confusion. He couldn't begin to guess what Ravenclaw had been thinking when she left this cryptic message.

Pushing aside his thoughts, Harry carefully placed the delicate, feminine crown on his head. Snape wasn't wrong—Harry's head was, indeed, a bit too large. The crown looked slightly ridiculous perched atop his head.

The moment the diadem settled, Harry felt as though the entire world had shifted. Yet the transformation didn't feel abrupt—it was strangely seamless, as if everything were as it should be.

"Little pinwheel, come spin~!" 

"Whoo~ whooo~ whoooo~!" 

Both Dumbledore and Snape nearly dropped their jaws to the floor, their expressions frozen in a bizarre mix of shock and disbelief.

After donning the diadem, Harry's face broke into an innocent, childlike smile—an expression of pure, unadulterated naivety. His emerald-green eyes now gleamed with a foolish clarity, betraying no trace of his usual sharpness. He looked like an open book, his thoughts and emotions laid bare for all to see.

Dumbledore's desk, cluttered with peculiar silver instruments, became Harry's playground. Grabbing a windmill-shaped device, Harry started blowing into it with gusto, the spinning contraption whirring noisily as he dashed around the room.

Poor Fawkes, startled out of his perch, took to the air in panic, pursued relentlessly by Harry, who was determined to play with the bright red bird.

In an instant, feathers filled the air in the headmaster's office as chaos erupted. A mischievous Harry, behaving like an overexcited child, was jumping and bounding around with reckless abandon.

The thunderous crash that followed came from Harry leaping off the walls, propelling himself seven or eight meters into the air in an attempt to grab Fawkes, who was desperately fleeing toward the ceiling. The sound of the floor breaking, however, resulted from Harry's failed midair dive, which ended with him slamming directly into the ground, leaving a sizeable crater.

What had been a pristine, quiet office was now utterly unrecognizable—a scene of utter destruction that bore a striking resemblance to a war-torn battlefield. In under a minute, the room had been transformed into a disaster zone. Harry, who seemed to have unlocked a new level of unleashed chaos, was like a hundredfold more destructive version of an unruly puppy let loose.

"AAAAAHHH!!"

Snape clutched his head in horror, letting out a scream of both despair and terror. In that instant, he mentally prostrated himself before Lily's imagined spirit, begging for forgiveness hundreds of times.

"How could I have turned Lily's only son into—into this—"

Before he could finish his wail, a dark blur came crashing toward him. Harry, his face plastered with a foolishly happy grin, tackled Snape to the ground, nearly breaking the poor man's back. In a childlike, innocent tone, Harry chirped, "Uncle, let's play hide-and-seek! You hide, and I'll come find you!"

"Ready or not, here I come!"

Without waiting for a response, Harry grabbed Snape by the collar with one hand, lifting him as if he weighed nothing. With an alarming amount of force, Harry slammed Snape into the Pensieve that had been knocked to the floor.

"Just hide like this, and you'll be fine!"

"Grandpa!"

Harry's bright, guileless gaze turned to Dumbledore, who froze in place. The headmaster's long white beard seemed to bristle in fear as he realized that, at such close range, he had little hope of evading Harry's iron grip.

"Look!"

Thinking quickly, Dumbledore pointed upward. "There's a flying saucer up there!"

The moment Harry turned his head to look, Dumbledore moved with lightning speed, reaching out in an attempt to snatch the diadem from Harry's head.

However, his efforts were in vain.

An unrelenting iron grip caught his wrist mid-motion. Harry had sensed the movement from the sound alone and effortlessly intercepted Dumbledore's hand. "Grandpa, you're lying! There's no fly—"

Before Harry could finish his sentence, a flash of light from a spell streaked across the room.

Snape, having managed to extricate himself from the Pensieve, cast a precise spell that struck the golden diadem on Harry's head. The moment the crown fell off, the clear yet foolish expression on Harry's face vanished instantly.

"Is it too late for me to just go and die now?" Snape muttered, looking both mortified and exhausted.

Thud! 

Harry, regaining control of himself, stumbled and collided headfirst into a wooden pillar, which snapped in two on impact. Meanwhile, an enraged Fawkes, who had been driven to his limits, swooped down from the ceiling with an indignant cry.

"Coo-coo-coo!!! (That's my home!)"

(End of Chapter)