After Dumbledore was dismissed, the position of acting headmaster naturally fell to Professor McGonagall, who was already the vice-headmaster.
This had no impact on the daily operations of Hogwarts.
Everyone should attend classes or have holidays as usual.
The only change was the resurgence of panic.
Without Dumbledore, the students' sense of security decreased significantly.
In addition, a rumor suddenly began to circulate that Snape was about to become the next headmaster.
I don't know who started this rumor.
Once, when Morris and Snape were discussing a matter, Maurice casually asked, "Professor, would you replace Dumbledore as the Headmaster of Hogwarts?"
Snape gave a barely perceptible smile. "Do your job, Black, and stop worrying about those boring rumors."
Morris immediately declared that if his Potions Class professor were to rebel... no, I mean, seize the headmaster's position, he would be the first to support him.
Snape simply smiled and stared at him.
The Easter holidays arrived in this delicate atmosphere.
At Hogwarts, this is also a relatively long holiday, lasting almost two weeks.
On the second day of the holiday, while Morris was asking Tom questions, the latter again demanded magic from him—in the form of blood, of course.
So Morris gave the other party another Gap Energy Crystal.
I don't know if I can still appease them.
He had a feeling that Tom's patience was almost worn off.
Sure enough, after that day, Tom's replies to his questions became perfunctory, and the deliberate friendliness of the past was gone.
One evening at the end of the holidays, Tom finally brought up the Chamber of Secrets of Secrets, " Mark, have you heard of Chamber of Secrets?"
Morris smiled. "Never heard of it, and I'm not interested."
The laptop remained silent for a long time.
After a long time, so long that Morris almost thought Tom had given up on the exchange, new words slowly appeared on the paper.
"Don't lie to me, Mark. I'm not unaware of what's happening outside. You're a Muggle-born wizard, aren't you afraid of becoming the next target for the heir? I'm worried about you. After all, it's not easy to find someone as good as me to talk to, and I don't want anything to happen to you."
Looking at this long string of text, only one thought came to Morris's mind:
I'm in a hurry.
He sat in his chair, propping his chin up, and wrote with great interest, "Don't worry, I'm not afraid."
Tom, who was in the notebook, was unsure how to reply.
Why is this person replying so unexpectedly?
Tom: "Okay, good luck. I'm a little tired and need to rest."
And so, the diary fell completely silent for the rest of the time.
No matter what Morris wrote, there was no response.
Well, it seems his time as a free tutor has come to an end.
It's the kind of subscription that can't be renewed.
pity.
It's time to think of a way to get the exact location of the Chamber of Secrets out of Tom.
He was still very interested in the Chamber of Secrets and the Basilisk.
However, right now, the most important thing is to ensure sufficient sleep.
Morris closed the notebook, shoved it back into the drawer, climbed into bed, and quickly drifted off to sleep.
Tom, however, did not rest.
About an hour after Morris collapsed, a nearly transparent white phantom emerged from the crack in the drawer, glowing Silencio in the darkness.
He was about seventeen or eighteen years old, tall and extremely handsome, but his eyes were extremely cold and seemed devoid of warmth.
Voldemort.
Or rather, it's Tom Riddle.
He hovered a few inches above the ground, turned his gaze to the sleeping Morris, and slowly reached out his hand.
However, a few seconds later, he frowned and withdrew his hand.
For some reason, looking at the unsuspecting boy in front of him, he always felt a sense of unease.
Is it just my imagination?
Tom shook his head slightly, shifting his gaze from Morris to the drawer where the diary was kept.
He gestured towards the drawer.
The drawer slid open silently, and the notebook containing his soul floated out, hovering in mid-air, and stopped right in front of him.
Now, it's time to leave.
In this state, his magic power is consumed very quickly.
It won't last long.
Tom floated expressionlessly toward the dormitory door, passing straight through like a ghost, while the diary, which had been floating in mid-air, suddenly shrank and slipped out through the crack in the door.
The dormitory has been restored to its original state.
Approximately thirty seconds later.
Morris, lying on the bed, and the Guantou beside him, opened their eyes at the same time.
"Alright, Guantou, come here. Something interesting might happen tonight."
Morris smirked, got out of bed, and the Guantou Silencio jumped to the floor.
In fact, everything that had just happened was within his observation.
Tom probably managed to do what he just did by relying on his two Gap Energy Crystal.
It must be said, Voldemort did have some tricks up his sleeve.
If he hadn't sensed the unusual flow of magic in the notebook, he really wouldn't have noticed.
Morris, clutching the Guantou, used his Shadow Concealment to disappear into the shadows.
Leave the dormitory and walk out of the Ravenclaw common room.
He could clearly sense that the notebook was floating in the air, moving rapidly down the corridor.
The notebook flew all the way, and Morris followed along.
Finally, in a corridor connecting the main castle and the North Tower, the notebook seemed to lose power and fell to the ground.
At the same time, a figure was slowly walking towards them.
Morris stopped immediately and observed what would happen next.
Based on the perceived body shape, he judged that the person who came should be Gilderoy Lockhart.
Yes, Lockhart.
I wonder what the other person is doing in the hallway so late at night.
Lockhart seemed completely oblivious to the notebook on the ground and stepped on it.
He slipped and almost fell to the ground, staggering a few steps before regaining his balance.
Morris was somewhat speechless.
That poor guy.
After Lockhart realized what was happening, he bent down, picked up the notebook, and began flipping through it, shaking his head as he did so.
At this point, Morris had a general idea of the notebook's purpose—it probably felt it couldn't gain his trust and wanted to find a new host.
But why Lockhart of all people?
Is there something special about Lockhart?
In fact, Morris had misunderstood Tom.
Tom was also somewhat helpless.
Who knew someone would still be loitering in the hallway so late?
But it doesn't matter.
As long as his conditions are met, it doesn't matter who the host is.
Even a pig would be fine.