Old Dumbledore, Sit Down and Listen to Your Senior Speak From the Heart

After leaving the Map Chamber, Harry went straight to the Headmaster's Office on the Seventh Floor without any hesitation.

The entrance to the Headmaster's Office was guarded by an incredibly ugly Waterspout Gargoyle. When it saw Harry approaching, it mechanically turned its head to look at Harry.

"Password," it said.

Harry answered without hesitation, "Honeydukes."

The Waterspout Gargoyle didn't react, and Harry knew that the password was wrong.

"Lemon Sherbet," he said again.

The Waterspout Gargoyle remained unresponsive.

Harry rattled off the names of every candy he knew from the magical world, even including Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, but the Waterspout Gargoyle still didn't react.

"You know what? Maybe I should try a different password." Harry lost his patience, reached out and patted the Waterspout Gargoyle's head, whispering, "Fiendfyre."

"Incorrect password," the Waterspout Gargoyle said impatiently.

Harry didn't speak, but a black flame ignited at the fingertips of his other hand, which he brought close to the face of the Waterspout Gargoyle.

"This is not the correct password." The Waterspout Gargoyle uttered so many words for the first time ever.

Just when Harry thought it was very principled and unyielding, it spoke again.

"The correct password is Honeydukes's major shareholder, sir."

"Okay, Honeydukes major shareholder." Harry withdrew the small wisp of Fiendfyre.

"Password correct!" The Waterspout Gargoyle jumped aside, as if it had been eager to do so for a long time.

A passageway leading to the Headmaster's Office appeared before Harry, Harry followed it and entered the Headmaster's Office.

The Headmaster were still dozing off, as was Dumbledore's Phoenix; only the old hat was still wriggling around.

Seeing Harry walk in, the old hat greeted him in a low voice, "Hey, Harry —what brings you in?"

Harry walked over and answered in a low voice, "I need to speak with Professor Dumbledore about something..."

"Oh, missing your old junior, is that it?" the old man teased in a low voice. "Albus your little secret. But Dumbledore isn't in the Headmaster's Office right now, so I suggest you wait here for a while."

"OK."

After Harry finished speaking, he was about to turn around and find a place to sit for a while when he noticed that the old hat was twisting his body again.

"What's wrong with you, you old hag?" Harry asked with concern.

"I'm a little itchy, you know, it's always sitting on this cabinet, and sometimes bugs crawl on me," the old man said. "So could you do my old friend a favor? Help him scratch his itch?"

"Okay." Harry reached out and grabbed the tip of the hat, Sorting Hat it up.

He had originally planned to use his wand to Clean-up the hat, but after thinking about it, he decided against it and instead patted the old hat instead.

Contrary to his expectations, the slap didn't stir up much dust—the old hat only looked dirty, but that was just due to the erosion of time; in reality, it still had a dust-proof Charms on it.

"Oh! That's it!" the old man said comfortably. "A little more effort, my goodness, this doesn't relieve the itch at all..."

Harry slapped him twice more, then put him back on the cabinet.

"It felt really good to get a little cleaned up, Harry," the old hat said with a chuckle. "Thank you, my old friend."

"Have a nice day," Harry said, noticing something unusually quiet in the Headmaster's Office. He asked, "Where's Headmaster Black? I haven't seen him in ages, I miss him."

Old Hat yawned and said, "You mean Phineas? He's gone back to 12 Grimmauld Place, that's their old Black mansion. He goes back to sleep there occasionally at night."

"I see." Harry said, turning around and walking to the opposite side of Professor Dumbledore's desk, where he sat down obediently.

The Headmaster's Office was not quiet; Dumbledore had placed a bunch of whirring silver trinkets inside, and no one knew what their purpose was.

Harry waited and waited, but Dumbledore still didn't return.

He felt a little anxious, stood up and paced back and forth, when he suddenly saw a Pensieve not far away.

"What is this?" Harry asked curiously, and driven by curiosity, he buried his head in the Pensieve.

Harry felt as if he were spinning in darkness, constantly falling downwards.

A moment later, I felt myself back on the ground, standing at the door of the Headmaster's Office.

"What are you doing, Tom? Why are you wandering around so late?"

A voice rang out, Harry followed the direction of the voice to see a tall wizard with flowing reddish-brown hair and a long beard, greeting him from the Marble Staircase.

It was a younger Albus Dumbledore.

However... the middle-aged version of Professor Dumbledore in front of me looks serious and is much more imposing than the current Professor Dumbledore.

Say hello to me? Harry thought.

Harry, who was well aware of the properties of the Pensieve, knew that this was impossible; he was currently only in Professor Dumbledore's memories.

He turned his head in the direction Dumbledore had greeted and saw a handsome young man.

The young man looked to be only sixteen or seventeen years old. He had black hair and black eyes, but his face was somewhat pale.

However, the young man appeared very proper, with no arrogance or aggression in his appearance, and his expression was very humble.

He was wearing a Slytherin school robe, and a Prefect's silver badge Winky on his chest.

His name is Tom?

"I was just about to see the Headmaster, sir."

Tom said he looked a little reserved, keeping his head down and avoiding eye contact with Dumbledore.

Harry was actually quite understanding of Tom's behavior—after all, the current Dumbledore was Dumbledore more imposing than the Christmas Dumbledore version.

Any student at Hogwarts would probably not have dared to look him in the eye, let alone the penetrating gaze that Dumbledore Harry familiar with.

"Alright, go to bed now." Dumbledore gazed at Riddle. "It's best not to wander around the corridors these days, since you've already..."

He sighed heavily as he finished speaking.

"Good night, Tom," Professor Dumbledore said to Riddle and strode away.

Harry wasn't interested in the young man named Tom and chose to leave with Professor Dumbledore.

A short while later, Harry followed Professor Dumbledore to the Transfiguration Class office.

A knocking sound suddenly rang out.

"Please come in." Dumbledore sighed, rubbing his forehead.

The door opened, and a red-haired beauty walked in.

(The young Professor McGonagall)

Harry was somewhat shocked. If it weren't for the striking resemblance in appearance and demeanor, he simply couldn't connect the beautiful woman in front of him with Professor McGonagall, that old-fashioned woman.

Albus.

Professor McGonagall walked to Professor Dumbledore's desk and sat down opposite him.

"So—it's true? We're going to close Hogwarts?"

"Perhaps, Minerva." Professor Dumbledore rubbed the Jingming Acupoint between his eyes, as if to relieve fatigue. "You know, students have died in the school, and we haven't caught the culprit— the Board of Governors reported it to the Daily Prophet, and now the Ministry of Magic has to take this matter seriously."

Professor McGonagall clutched her collar, wiping away tears from the corners of her eyes. "Oh God, alas... poor Myrtle..."

"Yes, poor child," Professor Dumbledore sighed. "I remember this girl; I was the one who went to guide her into Hogwarts... I can't imagine how heartbroken her parents will be when they find out."

Professor McGonagall cried for a while, then wiped away her tears and asked, "Do you know who the murderer might be? Albus?"

"I don't know," said Professor Dumbledore.

But there was a flicker in his eyes, as if he was hiding some guess.

Professor McGonagall did not notice the change in Dumbledore's expression. She had just stood up when there was another knock on the door.

"Albus." An aged voice sounded from outside the door, sounding weak and feeble.

"Please come in, Headmaster Dippet," said Professor Dumbledore.

Headmaster Dippet opened the door but didn't come in. Instead, he said, "Albus, Mr. Riddle has found the murderer—he has identified the Acromantula kept by Rubeus Hagrid of Gryffindor as the real culprit who harmed Elizabeth Warren..."

"Impossible!" Professor McGonagall immediately retorted. "How could that be? I can assure you, Mr. Hagrid is absolutely not that kind of person!"

"I think so too, Headmaster Dippet," Dumbledore said earnestly. "If Myrtle was bitten to death by the Acromantula, then she would have shown signs of poisoning—and I think we all know what it looks like to be poisoned by Acromantula venom."

"But Mr. Riddle has already written to the Ministry of Magic, formally accusing Mr. Hagrid." Headmaster Dippet sighed. "You should know that the Ministry of Magic has always believed in avoiding trouble. According to their usual style, what they want to do now is not to find out the truth, but to solidify this matter and pin the blame on Mr. Hagrid —that way, they won't have to worry about the consequences of closing Hogwarts, nor will they have to worry about the parents' anxiety—because the real culprit has already been confirmed."

Harry clenched his fists.

He felt that even if he didn't know about the Basilisk beforehand, he wouldn't believe that Hagrid was responsible for it.

My God, Hagrid is so kind, so... kind.

He initially thought Tom was a pretty good guy...

However, to be fair, the Acromantula that Hagrid kept at the school was indeed a bit abstract.

They're really bold to keep this thing at school.

Fortunately, he's not Gryffindor student now, otherwise, he might have been assassinated by Ron one night while he was sleeping.

"Then what should we do?" Professor McGonagall sobbed. "No, I can't just stand by and watch Mr. Hagrid get arrested like this. I should..."

"Minerva!" Professor Dumbledore sighed. "In any case, we have no way to prove Hagrid's innocence—you must know that the Acromantula can also be deadly. All we can do now is try our best to ensure that Mr. Hagrid is not sent to Azkaban."

"Oh my God, oh my God..." Professor McGonagall slumped back in her chair, sobbing softly.

"However," Headmaster Dippet continued, "Mr. Riddle came to me before, asking if he could stay at school during the holidays because he didn't want to go back to that orphanage—he told me that his father was Muggle and his mother was a witch, but she died after giving birth to him."

"Yes," Professor Dumbledore said, seemingly reminiscing. "That's right. I remember when I went to pick up Tom, he told me that his name was taken from his father's."

"Mr. Riddle— " Professor McGonagall sighed, "How could he do this? I really don't know why he would slander Mr. Hagrid ..."

"Who knows?" Professor Dumbledore tapped the table.

Harry's memories abruptly ended there, and he was plunged back into endless darkness.

He pulled his head out of the Pensieve and met Dumbledore's calm and collected eyes.

Harry was a little embarrassed, after all, he'd been caught red-handed peeking into someone's memories...

"Professor Dumbledore, I..."

Harry opened his mouth, but the words that came out were. "I looked on purpose..."

"Of course I know, a young wizard your age, especially a Gryffindor," Professor Dumbledore smiled kindly. "Gryffindor are never short of courage and curiosity, are they?"

After he finished speaking, he walked to his seat and sat down.

Harry walked over to Dumbledore and sat down next to him.

"So, you've read it all?" Professor Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, that's right," Harry nodded.

"What do you think—what do you think?" Professor Dumbledore said, his gaze toward Harry once again carrying that penetrating quality.

Harry wasn't guilty at all and said directly to Professor Dumbledore, "I think Riddle is definitely covering something up—I don't think Hagrid is the kind of person who can't control his pets, even though that Acromantula was indeed quite dangerous."

Hearing Harry's answer, Dumbledore smiled kindly again.

"Very perceptive, but—" Professor Dumbledore looked up at Harry, "Why do you think that? Is it simply because you're good friends with Hagrid?"

"Of course not. People killed by the Acromantula venom are easy to identify, Professor," Harry replied. "Besides, I know exactly what that thing that killed Myrtle... Elizabeth Warren was."

Dumbledore had been smiling kindly, changed his expression slightly, raising an eyebrow as he asked, "Oh? You know?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry answered confidently, "It's Basilisk, a Basilisk —it's recently resurfaced, it's the culprit behind the petrification of Filch's cat, and it's also the mastermind behind the petrification of Colin!"

"Why do you think that?" Professor Dumbledore asked noncommittally, a hint of inquiry in his eyes.

"Professor Rackham just told me," Harry said to Professor Dumbledore, "That if you look into the eyes of Basilisk, it will cause the person who looks into them to die—but if you see the eyes of Basilisk through another medium, you will not die immediately, but will enter a rather deep state of petrification."

"For example, Filch's cat was petrified because it saw the Basilisk's eyes reflected in the water on the ground; while Colin was petrified because he made eye contact with the Basilisk through the camera's aperture!"

"I understand, you mean—there's a Basilisk in Hogwarts?" Professor Dumbledore asked. "You mean Professor Rackham? Where did you see him?"

"You know him?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

Professor Dumbledore smiled and said to Harry, "Of course I know Professor Rackham. There are three professors in the Map Chamber, aren't there?"

As he spoke, Professor Dumbledore winked slyly at Harry.

Three?

Harry paused for a moment.

However, he didn't correct him, but instead asked, "How did you know?"

"Because it was your mother who told me," Professor Dumbledore sighed softly. "Your mother, Lily Potter, awakened Ancient Magic talent at the age of fifteen and stumbled into the Map Chamber beneath Hogwarts."

"That Chamber of Secrets seems to have been reinforced by some kind of Ancient Magic. I tried to go in and take a look, but I couldn't figure out how." Professor Dumbledore looked at Harry. "What I didn't expect was that you are also an inheritor of Ancient Magic, Harry."

Harry then realized that Professor Dumbledore knew about the Map Chamber because his mother had told him.

It seems... Mom didn't leak Veratia's information either—but then again, that's to be expected, since Veratia is Gellert Grindelwald's sister.

As a man with Chocolate Frog Card, it goes without saying how dark Grindelwald is. It's normal for his mother not to reveal everything about Professor Dumbledore in order to protect Veratia.

"It should be said that the Charms of love is at work," Harry said. "You know, my mother learned about an ancient Charms from the professors in the Map Chamber... I saw my mother's memories in the Pensieve in the Map Chamber, and learned the whole story... It was she who willingly let Voldemort kill her to activate this Ancient Charm, thus passing on the legacy of Ancient Magic to me, and even... giving me immunity to and the ability to reflect the Killing Curse..."

Professor Dumbledore was moved. He stared at Harry in a daze, and after a moment he sighed.

"Lily..."

"Your mother was the most talented witch I've ever met, and also the most righteous... If she had been able to let go of her prejudice against Dark Arts and learn a few Dark Arts of it, perhaps things would have turned out differently."

"You..." Harry hesitated, looking at Dumbledore. "You're actually encouraging others to learn Dark Arts?"

"Oh, generally not," Professor Dumbledore said. "But to fight ruthless Dark Wizard, just knowing white magic isn't enough—you don't think the Auror wouldn't use some Harmless Minor Curses when capturing Death Eater, do you?"

"Harmless Minor Curses?" Harry was stunned.

"Oh, that's what the Gaunt family says." Professor Dumbledore smiled slyly and poured Harry a glass of lemonade. "I once saw a book in the Gaunt family's collection somewhere, and the title on the cover was ' Harmless Minor Curses.' I should thank that book for giving me a few Minor Curses to keep me safe."

"I've always believed that learning shouldn't be too rigid, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said again. "However, your mother... there's an explanation. She was so resistant to the Dark Arts for some very complicated reasons."

"Because of Professor Snape?" Harry asked.

Professor Dumbledore looked at Harry in surprise, seemingly not expecting that Harry knew so much.

After a long pause, he nodded.

"Yes, because of Severus —since you asked this question, it means you should know the cause and effect of these things. It's a pity that Severus was only focused on following Voldemort back then and ignored the feelings of his friends."

"Speaking of which, in your memory just now, you also saw Voldemort," Professor Dumbledore chuckled. "Guess—who is he? You'd never guess!"

"Could it be..." Harry thought for a moment, then tentatively asked, "Headmaster Dippet?"

"Hey! Kid!" A familiar, weak voice came from the wall, "Don't think I can't hear you talking about me behind my back!"

Harry turned around and saw a portrait of Headmaster Dippet.

He smiled and said to Headmaster Dippet, "I'm sorry, Headmaster Dippet, Professor Dumbledore asked me to guess someone I can't guess..."

"It's Tom, Tom Riddle," Headmaster Dippet said irritably. "Who else did you think it could be?"

Harry really didn't expect this result.

He never imagined that the gentle and refined Slytherin Prefect would be the ruthless Voldemort.

"But him?" Harry couldn't connect the two images at all. "Tom? Voldemort?"

"Yes."

Professor Dumbledore reached out and wrote hissing flames in the air.

It's the familiar circle-within-a-circle font that Harry knows.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle"

Harry repeated the name; he felt like he'd heard the name "Marvolo" somewhere before.

Professor Dumbledore moved his finger, and the words in the air were rearranged and rearranged.

"I am Lord Voldemort"

Harry gave a disgusted look.

This is a typical outward manifestation of excessive self-awareness during adolescent rebellion.

"So that's how it is..." Harry said emotionlessly, "So it was by rearranging the letters that Voldemort was formed?"

"Yes, Harry." Dumbledore smiled at Harry. "He abandoned his original name. He hated that his father was a Muggle, so he abandoned that name and changed it to one that was more... in line with his character."

"I don't think Tom's voice is as good," Harry commented. "It's ironic, really. I never expected that a fanatical supporter of Pure-blood values would be a Half-blood person. My God, how ironic."

"Who says otherwise?" Dumbledore smiled kindly.

"So, his Death Eater don't know?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore shook his head and said, "No, the Death Eater don't know that Voldemort is a Half-blood —in fact, apart from me and a very few others, no one knows that."

As soon as he finished speaking, he sensed a change in Harry's expression.

First came disbelief, then doubt, then disgust, and finally, speechlessness.

"What's wrong with you?" Dumbledore asked, puzzled. He didn't know why the child in front of him had changed so many expressions in such a short time.

"I should be saying, Professor Dumbledore," Harry said to him, "If I were you, I would definitely publish an ad about Voldemort's Half-blood identity—good heavens, it's the most effective weapon, why don't you use it? I really don't understand..."

"You don't think those Death Eater will leave Voldemort once they know he's Half-blood- blood, do you?" Dumbledore chuckled and shook his head. "Harry, you're a child; you shouldn't know Voldemort's nature—he maintains his reign of terror through violence..."

"But at least it will disgust him, Professor Dumbledore," Harry interrupted Dumbledore. "Even if it doesn't cause him any real harm, it'll be enough to disgust him."

Dumbledore sat up straight and began to scrutinize his good student again.

Oh my god, this idea...

That seems interesting.

Harry leaned back strategically and looked at Dumbledore.

Thinking to myself, a senior is still a senior, and you still have to learn from him...

Why must we inflict any substantial damage on Voldemort's rule?

We're Britain, after all!

What is the consistent principle of the Britain?

Even if there's no benefit to it, I'm still going to take this little stick and stir up some shit to disgust you...

Of course, this was something he learned from Cassandra's brother, Mr. Malfoy. Ignatius Malfoy— Ignatius, by seniority, should be Lucius's grandfather.

"If you look at it that way, it is indeed a very constructive suggestion."

Dumbledore nodded and said that he always felt that this good student would be a good politician.

He would at least be better than the current Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge.

"But I have another question, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said, placing his hands on the table. "I remember your mother once said that the talent for Ancient Magic doesn't awaken until after the age of fifteen, and you're only twelve..."

"Because of the Philosopher's Stone, Professor," Harry said. "You should remember that I accidentally absorbed the power of the Philosopher's Stone, which gave me a sense of guidance."

"After absorbing the Philosopher's Stone, a voice kept guiding me to the Map Chamber, where I met Professor Rackham and a few others, as well as the Pensieve that stored my mother's memories."

"I see," Professor Dumbledore said with a sigh. "Professor Rackham... alas, what a pity for Professor Rackham. His descendants... have truly tarnished the reputation of the Luke Wood family."

"There's nothing we can do about it," Harry said with a touch of melancholy. "As everyone often says, back in the day, when Septimus Mr. Malfoy the Minister of Darkness in the Magical World, the Malfoy family was incredibly powerful... But look at the Malfoy family now."

"Indeed." Professor Dumbledore nodded in agreement. Clearly, he also thought that the current Malfoy family was worthless, like Fire Dragon giving birth to a fire lizard, each generation worse than the last.

"So, Professor Dumbledore," Harry continued, "I think the school should take appropriate measures to catch that Basilisk as soon as possible—after all, it concerns the safety of the students... Filch's damn cat, and Colin, they were both lucky enough—but I don't think that luck will last forever. What if the next student is killed by the Basilisk's gaze like Myrtle was? Then the Ministry of Magic might have to put Hagrid down as a scapegoat again."

"I think Hagrid's fate might not be good this time; he might end up in Azkaban," Harry added.

"Alright." Professor Dumbledore nodded, then asked, "Is there anything else to add, Harry?"

"Let me think..." Harry thought for a moment, then said again, "The professors in the Map Chamber told me that Slytherin left a letter in his study."

"Slytherin?" Professor Dumbledore didn't react.

"Salazar Slytherin," Harry explained, "One of the Founders of our school."

"Go on," Dumbledore nodded.

Harry recounted the contents of the letter to him.

"Next, I will put that creature into a state of slumber until someone who shares my views Awakening it—that chosen offspring will reverse the sins committed by others unintentionally. Those who are not worthy will only tarnish my legacy, while my offspring will take on the responsibility of Purification Hogwarts."

After saying that, Harry added, "But Slytherin didn't say in the letter where he kept the Basilisk— "

Professor Dumbledore pondered for a moment, then said, "Perhaps you should ask Professor Binns about this. As you should know, Professor Binns has been the Professor of History of Magic since the founding of Hogwarts. His quick wit and clear thinking have been praised by Slytherin, which is why he was invited and rightfully became the Professor of History of Magic at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"So, he was friends with Mr. Slytherin?" Harry asked.

"Perhaps, I'm not sure either," Professor Dumbledore said, shaking his head. "But what we do know is that Professor Binns was older than Hogwarts —that is, his age in life and his age at the afterlife combined."

He even made a small joke at the end.

"I understand, Professor." Harry nodded knowingly. "I'll ask him about it after the History of Magic class the day after tomorrow... Also, I should add that the Basilisk doesn't appear alone. The person who can control the Basilisk must be a descendant of Salazar Slytherin ... You see, he said that his offspring will shoulder this responsibility."

"A descendant of Slytherin?" Dumbledore seemed to have been struck by a heavy blow.

He instantly recalled something that happened fifty years ago, when a similar incident occurred at the school, and the Basilisk was released... Now it seems that the person who released the Basilisk... was a descendant of Slytherin?

Could it be from the Gaunt family...?

No, that's impossible.

Professor Dumbledore recalled that the youngest member of the Gaunt family at the time was Morfin Gaunt, but he had graduated many years ago and had never returned to Hogwarts.

Who could it be?

Could it be...

He focused his suspicions on Tom Riddle, who was then known as the young Voldemort.

But Voldemort's surname is Riddle, not Gaunt...

Wait a minute, Tom once told him and Headmaster Dippet that his mother was a witch and his father was Muggle... Could it be that his mother was a member of the Gaunt family?

Thinking about this, he murmured, "This... perhaps... is this the truth?"

"What's it like?" Harry asked curiously.

Dumbledore didn't try to hide anything and told Harry the truth, "Perhaps I should go and investigate the area around Voldemort's... Tom Riddle's orphanage. I suspect his mother may very well be a member of the Gaunt family."

"Why do you say that?" Harry asked, puzzled.

Professor Dumbledore said, "You've seen that memory, so you should know that Tom was eager to frame Hagrid for Myrtle's death... Professor McGonagall and I suspected it at the time, but now it seems he had a good enough motive—"

"And as you know, if his mother is from the Gaunt family, then he may have inherited Parseltongue, which is a manifestation of the Slytherin bloodline, a natural Parseltongue..."

"So you mean the person who controlled the Basilisk to kill Myrtle at the school fifty years ago was Tom?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

He no longer intended to call Voldemort "Voldemort," but instead simply referred to him as Tom.

That's right, the name Voldemort doesn't sound as good as Tom.

But... the Gaunt family?

Harry immediately remembered, Gaunt...

I knew it! Why did the name Marvolo sound so familiar?

Isn't Ominis Gaunt's brother named Marvolo Gaunt?

Therefore, Tom Marvolo Riddle's mother must have been a member of the Gaunt family, and must have been closely related to Marvolo Gaunt.

If we follow the rule of choosing a middle name, then this Marvolo would be either her husband or her father.

Her husband's name was clearly placed first, so... this middle name must have come from Miss Gaunt's father!

Harry snorted. So... Voldemort was Ominis's grand-nephew?

"Based on the current analysis, it can be basically confirmed that it is Tom."

A sharp glint flashed in Professor Dumbledore's eyes.

"Understood, Professor." Harry nodded and said, "In that case, I won't disturb your rest any longer. I'll remember to ask Professor Binns during class the day after tomorrow."

"Yes, you should be careful," Professor Dumbledore said. "However, given the presence of Basilisk at Hogwarts, I think it would be best if I escorted you back to your dormitory for your safety."

"Thank you, Professor." Harry politely stood up to express his gratitude, not refusing Professor Dumbledore's kindness.

The two left the Headmaster's Office together, and Professor Dumbledore even gave him a handful of Honeydukes.

"Don't worry, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said with a chuckle, "I'm a major shareholder in Honeydukes now, so I can afford these sugars."

"Thank you, Professor." Harry thanked him sincerely. After all Honeydukes weren't cheap, and it would be nice to give them to his roommates when he got back.

After being escorted back to the Gryffindor Common Room by Dumbledore, Harry was already planning his next move.

Ask Professor Binns for information about the Basilisk, and... also, the students in the Dueling Club for their practical training.

Since the Basilisk only roams within Hogwarts Castle, Harry plans to have the Dueling Club friends go to the edge of the Forbidden Forest for this practical exercise.

"Harry?"

Hearing Harry walk in, Neville turned over and asked.

"It's me."

Harry came in and put all the Honeydukes he had in his pocket on the table.

"What's that sound?" Ron asked groggily.

"Honeydukes, a gift from Professor Dumbledore," Harry said truthfully. "I just came from his office."

"Cool." Seamus whistled. "You're one of the few people who dare to steal candy from Headmaster Dumbledore's office. I bet even those Weasley clones wouldn't have the guts."

"Hey!" Ron warned, "You're talking about my brother!"

"Oh, sorry Ron," Seamus said, "But I must remind you, you're the one who gave me that nickname."

"Haha..." Ron sprawled on the bed a couple of times. "But did you really go to steal candy? What if the Headmaster found out?"

"I was just talking to him about my mother, and he gave me some candy," Harry said, half-jokingly.

"Oh, sorry, Harry," Ron apologized. "I didn't know you were talking about... well."

"It's okay, I'm not that fragile," Harry chuckled. "Alright, I think we should go to sleep—it's already past ten o'clock, and we have class tomorrow."

"Alright then." Ron yawned, rolled over, and fell asleep almost instantly.

The next morning, Professor Dumbledore appeared in the Great Hall.

Once all the students had arrived, Professor Dumbledore began to announce the new temporary regulations.

Students on campus are not allowed to travel alone. When going to or from class, they must travel together as a dormitory unit to the classroom or Great Hall.

After finishing their meals in the Great Hall, the Prefect would lead them in lines back to their dormitories.

"What on earth is going on?" Draco said indignantly. "I think Dumbledore has really gone senile. If my father knew about this, he would definitely join the Board of Governors in impeaching him!"

Of course, he was just making a few complaints—it wouldn't really matter if he told his dad.

"Don't be like that, Draco," Pansy pleaded, though her expression was somewhat sinister. "Just watch, he definitely won't become Headmaster, he definitely will—"

"You're right, Pansy!" Draco snorted. "That senile, insane Dumbledore..."

"He's so annoying, isn't he?" Ron muttered to himself, joining his classmates in their complaints.

Hermione rolled her eyes and said, "Forget it, Ron. At least he's not bothering you. Don't get this... well, don't get his attention on you."

The temporary school rules were thus established, and students had to walk together in groups of three or five, whether going to school, leaving class, or going to the Great Hall; they always had to be together.

"I feel like we're rabbits," the Weasley twins quipped. "huddled together like rabbits, waiting for that petrifying monster to wipe us out."

"Try to look on the bright side, George, Fred," Ron said. "At least you have people with you, unlike Colin who only has his camera with him."

"I think Colin has his camera with him, that's enough," Fred said. "Look at that kid, he's always with his camera. If you didn't tell me, I would have thought it was his girlfriend."

Everyone laughed when they heard Fred's words.

Although Colin was only lively and energetic for a week, the trauma he left on them during that week was enough...

He not only harassed Harry, but he also took pictures of every classmate, claiming he wanted to show them to his father.

The following afternoon in History of Magic class, Harry yawned a few times, as was his habit, and wanted to sleep.

But then he suddenly remembered the Basilisk and raised his hand.

"Mr. Potter? Is there a problem?"

Professor Binns looked up, seemingly puzzled as to why Harry had raised his hand to ask a question.

"Professor Binns, I'd like to ask you a question—I've come across some legends somewhere..."

Harry was interrupted by Professor Binns before he could finish speaking.

"Since you know it's a legend, you shouldn't ask that question—this is a serious history class, Mr. Potter."

Professor Binns seemed unimpressed by the "legend." He observed Harry closely and suddenly frowned.

"Wait a minute, why do you look so familiar?"

"Because I am your student, Professor." Harry was a little speechless. I've been studying in your class for almost seven years.

Professor Binns responded with an "Oh".

"I saw a letter, a handwritten letter left by Salazar Slytherin," Harry said.

Upon hearing this, Professor Binns fell silent.

"What letter? Tell me about it," he said.

Harry recounted the contents of the letter from beginning to end.

Professor Binns remained silent, and just when everyone thought he was going to stay silent, he suddenly spoke.

"This is not a legend, Mr. Potter," said Professor Binns. "I have seen this letter before; it is indeed a letter from Slytherin himself."

Upon hearing this, the whole class erupted in an uproar.

A handwritten letter from Salazar Slytherin?!

Ron's eyes were red. He tugged at Harry's sleeve and said unwillingly, "Why didn't you invite me when something like this happened... Harry..."

"I thought it was fake," Harry said to Ron, looking down at him.

Ron said "Oh," and believed Harry.

"But there's also a legend circulating in the school, just like the one in the letter," Professor Binns said. "Salazar Slytherin had a disagreement with the other three Founders, and the legend says he built a Chamber of Secrets in the school containing his monstrous creature, but I think that's utter nonsense."

He then recounted some of his personal experiences and spoke attentively about Salazar Slytherin himself, and the whole class listened intently.

The students were also surprised, surprised that it was the first time they had listened to a History of Magic course so attentively.

"However, this legend isn't entirely unfounded, as evidenced by that letter," Professor Binns continued. "According to this legend, Slytherin sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that no one could open it until his true successor came to the school—only that successor could open the Chamber of Secrets, release the horrors inside, Purification the school, and eliminate all those unworthy to learn magic."

"Then, Professor..." Hermione awkwardly raised her hand and asked, "Who is someone Slytherin considers unworthy to study magic?"

"Yes, that's correct, Miss Grant. You may put your hand down now," said Professor Binns, who still couldn't remember Hermione's last name.

Hermione lowered her hand in confusion, then she realized what Professor Binns meant...

Oh, so I'm someone Slytherin considers unworthy of learning magic?

She felt very angry, and a chill ran through her heart.

"However, I need to tell you that thing doesn't exist at all," Professor Binns said again, his tone somewhat impatient. "There's no Chamber of Secrets, and no monster—you know, a full thousand years have passed. If there were any Chamber of Secrets, it would have been discovered by the Headmaster of each generation long ago."

"This legend has been circulating in Hogwarts ever since the Four Founders passed away. Many Headmaster have tried to find the legendary Chamber of Secrets of Secrets and even invited various powerful wizards to the school, but to no avail."

"But Professor," Seamus suddenly said, "You can't deny the existence of this Chamber of Secrets just because previous Headmaster couldn't find it!"

"So what?" Professor Binns retorted, showing no sign of dullness or blankness. "So we can't find that monster in Hogwarts, but tomorrow it'll just jump out and petrify me? Ridiculous!"

"So, all that blank look you had when you were lecturing us was just an act?" Harry suddenly asked.

Professor Binns choked for a moment, finding it hard to imagine that a ghost could choke on something.

"If you can maintain this passion in your lectures, I think the students will really enjoy the History of Magic course, and they'll really like you too," Harry said sincerely, his sincerity so genuine that he believed it himself. "If I remember correctly, ' Hogwarts, Hogwarts, A History ' records that, 'As lunchtime approached, the students reluctantly left Professor Binns ' classroom, everyone looking very excited. Species transformation had given them their first glimpse of the wonders of magic, and Professor Binns ' History of Magic filled the children with endless imagination about magic.'"

"If I hadn't just witnessed your passionate reaction, I probably would have thought that the book was just embellishing your image," Harry added at the end.

Professor Binns took a deep breath.

He lowered his head and continued lecturing.

Within five minutes, the students were back to their drowsy state.

Harry thought about it and decided to give up on trying to persuade Professor Binns again.

He thought it was nice to have a class that allowed him to sleep.

Thinking this, he gently closed his eyelids and, accompanied by Professor Binns's lullaby-like tone, drifted off to sleep contentedly.

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