[Ravenclaw's Diadem] Acquired!

Aragog's body, massive as an elephant, trembled as his eight blind eyes, clouded with white film, rolled.

"The darkest east belongs to the werewolves, the south by the lake belongs to the centaurs and unicorns—only the north here is ours..."

"The one who disappeared was my great-great-grandson's great-great-grandson. He was clever, knew over a hundred words..."

"That day... he was going to catch a Red Cap to eat, to celebrate his birthday..."

"He died in the Red Caps' territory?" Harry squinted his eyes, which had returned to their emerald green.

"No, that was our territory," Aragog instinctively retorted, but he seemed to sense the displeasure in Harry's gaze. "Once... it was once the Red Caps' territory."

"They relied on their small size, hiding in burrows, ambushing every animal that passed by. My descendants and I had no choice but to bring justice."

"The location... is five hundred feet from here, cross a gully, then head west."

"West, one hundred fifty meters."

The moment Harry's voice fell, his figure vanished from the spot. Aragog relaxed, and the clicking of his massive chelicerae resumed on the web.

Ripples stirred on the branches of the twisted, limb-like ancient tree that seemed to rise from the black soil like a muddy swamp, and Harry's figure materialized.

"Is it here?"

A silver thread flew from his chest and plunged into the pitch-black mud.

The true form of a [Dark Killer] could be said to be their corresponding weapon, so the names given to them by the Blade Dragon were Gan, Wen, and Cui (Pole, Blade, Hammer).

Now that the Sith Sword Hilt, which served as Harry's [Horcrux], had been refined by the magical knowledge of the Dark Killer Transformation Ritual, it could naturally also use his [Horklump]'s earth-diving magic.

In just a single breath, the Sith Sword Hilt had already sunk a hundred meters into the ground.

Harry closed his eyes, letting the craving for consumption transmitted by the [Horcrux] dominate his mind.

Closer, closer!

Right here!

Right nearby!

Ding—!

A crisp metallic clash seemed to ring in Harry's ears, and a flash of delight bloomed in his emerald eyes.

Whoosh—!

The silver-white Venom Dragon opened its scarlet eyes, spread its gaping maw, and lunged at the crown, which had once again become covered in rust.

Satisfaction.

The magical runes of the Ravenclaw diadem that enhanced wisdom, the soul energy of Voldemort seemed to pulse in its mouth, traveling down the esophagus into its stomach.

"No!"

Inside the Defense Against the Dark Arts office, a black cloud burst from Quirrell's turban, forming an exposed human face.

"My [Horcrux]! Albus Dumbledore!"

Dumbledore, who had been solemnly listening to Lucius Malfoy's words, suddenly looked up, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. "Tom is very angry now... Did he discover that you've broken free of the [Imperius Curse]?"

"You've grown stronger."

Delight flickered in Harry's eyes as he gripped the silver-white hilt.

Whoosh—!

The scarlet blade illuminated Harry's ecstatic face.

Voldemort's furious face flickered with calm. "The dragon egg hasn't hatched yet. Something must have gone wrong on Malfoy's end as well. My failure lies in being too merciful—I didn't prepare to use Lucius's life as a sacrifice. Choosing the Acromantula instead exposed my [Horcrux]."

"This also reveals one thing: Dumbledore is truly hypocritical. He knows a great deal about [Horcruxes]. Someone who understands the secrets of the soul as he does must have experimented plenty himself, mastering magic to sense [Horcruxes]. Even the dark magic of the Forbidden Forest can't interfere."

"Quirinus."

"Please, Master, command me." Quirrell, who had barely dared to breathe until now, quickly responded.

"Go to [Gringotts]. No—go to Little Hangleton."

The face collapsed into black smoke and re-entered Quirrell's turban.

"You are fortunate. You will witness Slytherin's legacy—the origin of my immortality."

[[Voldemort's Vigilance Continued] (100 EXP, Gold Talent Word 1), the loss of another Horcrux has made Voldemort vigilant. Find the [Resurrection Stone] before the end of the second year.]

—Again?

Harry's smile cooled.

The silver talent draw opportunity he'd just received, the enhanced magic power, the joy brought by Ravenclaw's wisdom runes—all turned to stone.

—Voldemort can sense when a [Horcrux] is destroyed?

—How is that possible!

Harry remembered that in the original timeline, Voldemort hadn't sensed the destruction of any Horcrux.

Even during the final battle, when Voldemort was right there in the Forbidden Forest—the diadem destroyed by Crabbe's Fiendfyre, Hufflepuff's cup pierced by a basilisk fang—he still hadn't sensed a thing.

—What was going on?

—Could it be that when Voldemort moved the diadem, it briefly merged with him, strengthening the connection?

Back in the castle, Harry was still mulling over the reason.

The joyful atmosphere in the Great Hall, the oddly costumed students, the sky painted with shimmering words, the cloying scent of pumpkin... none of it caught his attention, not even Marcus Flint, who was dozing off like a real troll.

"Harry, Harry, look at me!" Draco had truly become a little dragon-man, pearl-like scales plastered all over his body, a glittering, multicolored, pupil-less eye on his forehead, plus a chubby long tail and a big belly.

"Australian Opaleye, the most beautiful kind of dragon," Harry said.

"So I'm definitely going to win first place?" "What are you on about, Malfoy?" Draco's words were cut off by Ron.

Ron the goblin shook his potato head, "Flint the troll has a better chance of winning than you do—he looks exactly like a real troll!"

"Who would like a troll!" Hermione appeared, drawing a chorus of gasps.

"You... you're Hermione?" "No way!" Ron and Draco both stammered.

Seamus, dressed as a Niffler, rubbed his eyes, and Neville, as a ghoul, was left speechless.

Right now, Hermione's bushy brown hair had become sleek and smooth. Though she still sported cute rabbit-like front teeth, dressed as a Fairy, she shimmered with a gorgeous, almost real fairy light.

It was exactly the same glow as the beautiful little creatures on the decorated trees, those holding tiny wands and called fairies, and her transparent wings seemed to have been scaled up proportionally.

Marcus Flint, wrapped up tight and dressed as a potato, was stunned for a moment too, but the next second he was staring at "himself" and starting a mental rant.

—Sleep, sleep, wake up! You idiot, you lazy pig!

—Wait, what are you doing!

—You're supposed to be me!

The troll finally woke up. He started eating his own gray, nose-like growth, giggling foolishly.

The surrounding Slytherins immediately moved away, leaving an empty space around him.

"Flint, you really want that first place, huh? Going all out like that~" Draco conceded in admiration.

"In terms of imitation completion, I admit defeat," the competitive Hermione turned her head.

Tonks, dressed as a Hinkypunk—minus the fangs, black fur, and extra limbs, but keeping the pointed ears, black skin, red eyes, and a curvy figure like a dark elf from a fantasy novel—backed out of the Hall, hesitating over whether to keep a bit of black fur.

Dragging a horse's lower body, wrapped in bandages, carrying a shoulder strap and a wooden bow, the Centaur Gemma, radiating a certain boldness, let out a cold laugh and, with the clatter of hooves, strode confidently into the Hall.