Room of Requirement

Hermione arrived at the library early, but she didn't see Professor Quirrell until closing time.

"He does come every day, but he took out a lot of books yesterday, so he probably won't be back anytime soon."

Madam Pince answered Hermione, adding, "If you need him, you can go to his office. It's on the third floor, easy to find."

Hermione thanked her and left, looking disappointed.

She didn't go to the third floor because she couldn't find a reason to have Professor Quirrell check her essay—she had only intended to "accidentally" run into him before, but that clearly didn't work out.

Voldemort, of course, didn't have time for the library; he was busy researching the Repairing Charm.

Trying the spell in different languages gave him a deeper understanding of its rhythm, but learning those languages was too much of a headache.

Struggling late into the night, Voldemort finally stopped and unrolled the parchment confiscated from the Weasley twins.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

His Purple Sandalwood Wand pointed at the parchment, and ink began to spread from the tip, slowly covering the entire surface until a map of Hogwarts appeared.

Voldemort leaned down and first glanced at the Headmaster's Office. It was empty, with no names—neither Dumbledore nor Fawkes.

"Is the Old Bee not at school?"

Voldemort was somewhat excited but didn't dare act rashly. He continued to stare intently at the map, meticulously examining every visible area.

It was a bit like a "spot the difference" game, incredibly draining on his energy and eyes, but Voldemort had to do it. The Old Bee put too much pressure on him.

"He's really not here. In that case, let's go for a walk."

Voldemort said excitedly, then tidied his clothes and left his office.

He first went down to the second floor and came to a corner where a familiar large black cabinet stood—he hadn't dared to look at it directly in the more than a month he'd been at Hogwarts.

"The time is not right, the time is not right yet."

He muttered to himself, gazing at it from a distance for a long time before finally turning away.

He didn't have the opportunity to move the cabinet yet, and until then, he wouldn't do anything else, lest he alert them.

After looking at the cabinet, Voldemort followed the stairs all the way up to the eighth floor of the castle, stopping before a tapestry depicting a troll bludgeoning Barnaby the Barmy.

"A place to hide things... a place to hide things... a place to hide things..."

Voldemort paced back and forth three times, repeating the same thought in his mind. Then, a smooth door appeared—the Room of Requirement he was looking for.

"Room of Requirement, how does it work?"

Like a child eager to take apart a toy, Voldemort wanted to dismantle the Room of Requirement.

But he only dared to think about it. Dumbledore's office was right next door, and he didn't dare to act rashly, even if the owner wasn't present.

He pulled open the door and entered. The first thing that greeted him was a large classroom. Moonlight streamed through the tall windows, illuminating the various discarded items hidden there by generations of Hogwarts inhabitants.

Following his memory, Voldemort began to navigate through the piles of junk, but soon he became lost—too much time had passed, and the path in Voldemort's hazy memory was long gone.

"Show me the way."

He threw out his Purple Sandalwood Wand, and as the spell took effect, it hovered in the air, beginning to guide Voldemort.

Following the floating wand, he wound his way past mountains of stacked books and through walls of piled-up slingshots and frisbees, arriving before a chest.

On top of the chest, a wisp of grayish hair and a piece of rusty metal were visible—if Voldemort kicked the chest, they might fall.

Voldemort knew that the rusty metal was a corner of Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem, which was not only an antique but also capable of bestowing wisdom.

At the same time, a part of his own soul was within it.

"A remnant soul that hasn't gone mad... I wish I could get it immediately."

He thought this but ultimately took no action.

"Everything that should be here is here. Next, I need to wait patiently."

He told himself this, then reached out and touched the Diadem from a distance—his gleaming eyes were filled with a craving for knowledge, talent, and power.

Lowering his hand, Voldemort turned and left without hesitation.

"I wonder if there are any secrets here."

Moving away from the Diadem, Voldemort's excited heart calmed down, and he immediately became curious about the other items stored there.

"Perhaps there are good things too."

He thought this and began searching the room, but after a long while, he found nothing of value.

"This place is too big, but perhaps in the future, we can form a treasure-hunting group to come here. There must be good things."

With limited time and energy, Voldemort soon gave up his treasure hunt, but the thought still lingered in his mind.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

He opened the Marauder's Map again, confirmed that Dumbledore was still not in the castle, and then left his office, heading downstairs.

"Professor Quirrell, what are you doing so late?"

At the staircase on the fourth floor, Voldemort ran into Argus Filch, the Hogwarts caretaker. He wasn't surprised by this, as he hadn't intended to hide his movements at all.

Using the Disillusionment Charm or other methods, if he were accidentally discovered, it would be harder to explain. Walking out so openly, however, provided many excuses.

"Studying spells is too tiring, Filch. I just came out for a stroll."

As he mentioned spells, Voldemort noticed Filch's eyes light up. "Is Mrs. Norris around? I haven't seen her much these past few days."

"Oh, she's patrolling elsewhere. She'll notify me if she encounters any naughty children," Filch said enthusiastically.

"I hope you have some good catches," Voldemort said with a smile, then brushed past him and left.

Filch stood on the stairs, watching his retreating figure, and muttered, "If only all the students were like Ravenclaw."

Voldemort, not far away, couldn't help but chuckle at the remark. The entire school, even Hufflepuff, isn't as well-behaved as Ravenclaw, right?

Indeed, children who love to study don't cause trouble.

He descended with light steps, his gaze constantly sweeping left and right. He never dared to observe everything so freely in broad daylight. This rare freedom made him feel very comfortable.

At the same time, he was planning some future endeavors:

"A Christmas tree could be placed here. That would give me an excuse to move around, but it's still difficult to go all the way up from the second floor. I need to make a more detailed plan..."

Muttering to himself, Voldemort walked all the way to the Great Hall, then proceeded from the Great Hall to the third floor, returning to his office.

"Hogwarts without Old Bee is truly beautiful."

He sighed, then plunged back into his spell studies. Only when the night grew deeper did he close his book and go to sleep.