"Wait," said Luna, "This is the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw. It makes the wearer smarter. You might want it."
Professor Quirrel took the diadem in his hands. He feinted as if to place it over his head.
"I am an Occlumens," said Professor Quirrel, "Ravenclaw's device rips the incoherence out of doublethink. If I were to place this device over my head I would be lucky if it did not shred my mind. Nice try."
Professor Quirrel tossed the diadem back to Luna. Luna kowtowed.
"I heard stories of the First Wizarding War. You never cared much for individual human beings but you were always very careful not to destroy wizardkind," said Luna, "I get the feeling you put some effort into protecting the universe."
"So?" said Professor Quirrel.
"You are bored. This plane is too small for you," said Luna.
You-Know-Who did not murder her.
"You should not be a villain," said Luna.
"If you tell me to be a hero then you will die painfully," said Professor Quirrel.
"You should be a god," said Luna.
Luna willingly bestowed the astrolabe to Professor Quirrel.
"Is that all?" said Professor Quirrel.
"Yes," said Luna.
"Avada Kedavra," said Professor Quirrel.
Luna collapsed. Professor Quirrel sheathed his wand. His slender skeleton fingers untangled the clockwork. Professor Quirrel unfolded the astrolabe around him. He ascended to a higher plane of existence.
Luna stepped out of the Forgotten Library. She held the Sword of Gryffindor in her left hand and Wanda in her right. She buried Wanda in Hagrid's pumpkin patch.
The final duel of Lockhart's tournament was that afternoon. Professor Flitwick refereed. Luna lost.
Clang. Luna dropped the Sword of Gryffindor on Professor Lockhart's empty chair. She sat down for dinner in her seat at the end of the Ravenclaw table. A student stood behind her.
"You fought well in Lockhart's dueling tournament," said Ginevra Weasley, "Why don't you try sitting with us Gryffindors for a change?"
The astrolabe displayed "7" on one dial and "0" on all the rest. A tall, slender snakelike figure stepped into Heaven's throne room where a god rested. The trespasser threw a tactical reality anchor like a javelin. It stuck into the wall behind the throne. The trespasser stabbed his second tactical reality anchor behind himself into the floor of the entrance.
You may do whatever you want with this story. You may expand it. You may abridge it. You may retcon it. You may turn it into an audiobook. You may repost it elsewhere.
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Thank you J.K. Rowling for creating Harry Potter and Eliezer Yudkowsky for creating Harry James Potter-Evans-Verres. In addition, thank you MondSemmel, Measure, ejacob, Gurkenglas, Jeff Melcher, gilch, mingyuan, Dojan and everyone else in the comments who corrected spelling and other mistakes in this story.