Tom disappeared again after opening the door.
Draco watched this scene, took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind.
"Who is that?" he asked Morris, his voice low. "A ghost? The Heir of Slytherin?"
"You can guess; the answer will be revealed later."
Morris said this as he walked through the door.
The view suddenly opened up.
This was a rectangular hall, extremely spacious, so large that even Morris's maximum Lumos Charm could not fully illuminate it.
Many stone pillars with serpentine patterns stand on both sides, supporting the high ceiling, and the air is filled with the smell of old dust.
The two continued walking and finally stopped in front of a huge human-shaped statue.
The statue is carved from a dark-colored stone, with a clear face, sparse beard, high cheekbones, and deep-set eyes, looking down at the insignificant intruders with a cold gaze.
In Morris's eyes, he was just a lean old man.
Salazar Slytherin himself?
He wasn't quite sure, since he'd never seen it before.
"Where is the Basilisk?" Morris looked around and finally looked at the notebook.
As soon as he finished speaking, Tom's figure reappeared in the air, and a smile finally appeared on his handsome, pale face.
He scrutinized Morris and the pale-faced Draco behind him, remaining silent for a moment.
"Stop daydreaming, Tom, answer my question," Morris urged.
"An interesting reaction." A hint of doubt flashed in Tom's eyes. "Aren't you scared, Mark? Oh, sorry, I should say Black. You've never told me your real name."
Morris nodded calmly.
It's likely that Draco called out to him earlier, and the other person heard him.
Seeing that Morris seemed completely unconcerned, Tom floated closer, almost face to face with him.
Those eyes seemed to see right through people's hearts.
"You seem quite unfazed by many things, Mr. Black," Tom said to himself. "That's unusual. Well then, let me ask you a more interesting question."
He paused, a smile playing on his lips. "Do you know who I am?"
Draco suddenly looked at Morris, his heart pounding.
He was also eager to know who this "ghost" in front of him really was.
Morris met Tom's gaze and suddenly smiled. "Of course, Tom, I know who you are, a helpful Slytherin senior."
"Really?" Tom frowned slightly.
"Yes, yes," Morris said sincerely, "How could I possibly know that you were the one who started the Wizarding Wars, turned the entire Britain Wizarding World upside down, struck fear into the hearts of countless people, only to be defeated by a baby and disappear for many years, hmm, the one whose name can't even be mentioned?"
"Ah, let me catch my breath. It's tiring to talk so much all at once."
Morris blinked, curious about the other person's next reaction.
Then Tom fell silent.
Draco also fell silent.
For a moment, the hall was eerily quiet.
Tom suddenly raised his hand and drew a few lines in the air, leaving dark red trails that pieced together to form a line of text:
Tom Marvolo Riddle.
"That's my original name," he said.
Then, Tom waved his hand again, and the letters quickly began to recombine, eventually forming a new sentence:
I am Voldemort.
These words were imprinted in the air, and also in Draco's pupils.
Voldemort...?
That Dark Lord name can't even be mentioned?
Was it the person who opened the Chamber of Secrets?
How did he get here? And in such a ghostly form?
Draco's mind went blank, and he staggered back a few steps.
He covered his mouth tightly, looking at Morris for help, only to find that the other...
Morris was stroking his chin, staring intently at the words in the air, and even nodded.
"Hmm, your handwriting is good, and your magic control is very precise," he commented. "But Tom, is it really okay for you to waste your magic like this?"
Draco was convinced that Black must have hit his head in the pipe earlier.
Tom seemed pleased with Draco's reaction.
He turned to Morris and asked, "Aren't you afraid of me?"
"Why should I be afraid of you?" Morris said lightly. "Could you kill me right now?"
Tom, upon hearing this, was not angry, but simply sighed.
"You know what, Black," he said, "I hate my name. Tom Marvolo Riddle... ordinary, plain, bearing the mark of that filthy Muggle father."
So I abandoned it, and created a new name, a name that belongs to me.
"I know that one day I will become the greatest wizard in the world, and at that time, no one will dare to utter my name."
Morris shrugged. "Oh, really?"
He glanced at Draco, who was trembling beside him. "Maybe you did it. Look at this kid."
As he spoke, he nudged Draco with his elbow, but the other man didn't react at all, just staring blankly ahead.
"Tsk, you scared me half to death."
Tom's illusory figure floated back half a step.
" Black," he began slowly, "I've been observing you ever since we started talking. Every reaction, every word you utter tells me that you're different from those mediocre people. You're calm, intelligent, bold, and possess extraordinary ambition."
He paused, then spread his illusory arms. "Look here. I have created a legend, making the entire Wizarding World tremble at my name."
"Why can't we cooperate? You have potential, you're intelligent, all you lack is the right guidance."
"Perhaps one day, Black, your name will resound, inspiring awe in all and being etched in history."
Morris listened quietly, his face expressionless.
Tom's words were very persuasive—not because of the content itself, but because they contained a kind of seductive magic.
After confirming that the other person had finished speaking, Morris slowly said, "I don't need your help, Tom."
"One day, I will be remembered by everyone, and that day won't be long."
"As for you, Voldemort, in my eyes you are nothing more than an ordinary person."
"Ah, that might be a bit of an exaggeration. You are one of the most powerful dark wizards in the world, how can you be considered an ordinary person?"
"Let me put it another way, um... how to describe it? That's right, it's about pursuit. In our most fundamental pursuits, we are different."
"You pursue power hoping others will tremble and tremble at the mere mention of your name. Ha, that's too ordinary."
"What I want is power itself, or rather, knowledge itself."
"Perhaps only by incorporating everything that exists in this world into my mind can I say that this trip has not been in vain."
"Of course, that's not a reason for me not to cooperate with you. I don't like your way of doing things. Yeah, that's it."
Morris smiled at Tom. "I may have been a bit long-winded; I don't usually say things like this. Alright, enough rambling, Tom, may I see the Basilisk, please?"