Dumbledore and Morris entered the girls' sanctuary.
Moaning Myrtle was originally floating in the air, pouting, but when she saw that it was the headmaster who came in, she pouted and shrank back into the cubicle.
Morris took the initiative to explain to Dumbledore what had just happened.
After all, this could be considered as helping the other party eliminate a major hidden danger, so he had no reason to hide it.
Moreover, Dumbledore probably knows the approximate location of the Chamber of Secrets.
Otherwise, they wouldn't have come here to check the women's restroom after finding Lockhart unconscious.
"I just came out of the Chamber of Secrets. I've already dealt with the Basilisk. That thing was really powerful; it was very fast and had a lot of attack power..."
Morris carefully chose his words, omitting certain details that were best left unsaid.
Things like enslaving Voldemort's soul are absolutely off-limits.
If word got out that such a thing, Azkaban would probably reserve a luxury private room for him.
After hearing Morris's description, Dumbledore remained calm.
A second-year student solving Basilisk sounds incredible, but when it happens to Morris...
That makes perfect sense.
After all, the other side had the help of the Bone Dragon, which was no less formidable than the Basilisk.
"Where is the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets of Secrets?" Dumbledore asked.
"Here," Morris said, pointing to the brass faucet, "But entering the Chamber of Secrets requires Parseltongue."
Dumbledore leaned down, his gaze falling on the intricate serpentine relief on the side of the faucet.
" Parseltongue," he reached out and touched it thoughtfully, " Salazar Slytherin's special talent, which is also the key to opening his Chamber of Secrets of Secrets. A very ingenious design; no wonder I haven't been able to find it."
Morris suddenly asked, "Professor, are you still the headmaster of Hogwarts?"
"As long as this castle needs me, then I will be," Dumbledore glanced at him and explained gently, "The removal order has been rescinded; it was just a petty trick against me. Someone used some underhanded methods to mislead the board members."
"I guess it was Malfoy who did it, uh... the old one."
"Hmm," Dumbledore didn't deny it, changing the subject, "So, Morris, how did you open the Chamber of Secrets of Secrets?"
Morris shook his head. "It wasn't me. I don't Parseltongue."
As he spoke, he took out the tattered notebook and handed it to Dumbledore.
"This is..." Dumbledore's expression suddenly became a little serious.
" Voldemort's Horcrux," Morris shrugged, saying casually, "But as you can see, I've destroyed it."
Dumbledore took the notebook, looked at the charred cover, and slowly nodded. "I understand."
Morris raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you going to ask a few more questions?"
Dumbledore unchanged. "You may speak your part, Morris."
Morris curled his lip.
Principal, this is pointless.
Please give some kind of response.
Morris did not hide anything and simply explained the situation.
"The diary was originally with Ginny Weasley, then my cat found it. Last night, Tom Riddle lured me into the Chamber of Secrets, and I managed to get rid of him and the Basilisk."
He spoke concisely, while secretly observing Dumbledore's reaction.
After listening, the other person simply nodded. "Fear, confusion... Tom knows best how to use these. You did very well."
A boring answer.
Morris cautioned, "Perhaps you should check on Ginny Weasley. Voldemort has drained a lot of her life force; she might be in danger."
"Don't worry, I'll handle it," Dumbledore replied.
Morris was speechless.
He suddenly felt tired and couldn't help but yawn. "Can I go back now? I'm a little tired."
"Of course," Dumbledore's voice softened, "You've done enough tonight. Goodnight, Morris."
Goodnight, Professor.
As Morris reached the door, he glanced back one last time.
Dumbledore had no intention of leaving; he remained standing in front of the pool, carefully examining the faucet.
This is, after all, a mechanism left behind by Slytherin; it shouldn't be so easily deciphered.
Regardless, the Basilisk's corpse must be disposed of as soon as possible.
Back in his dorm, it was already past midnight, and Morris went straight to sleep.
He's not Superman; the night's events left him exhausted.
The next morning, the first thing Morris did upon opening his eyes was to summon the Skeleton Wolf.
" Tom," he said, "I need to know everything about Horcrux."
He had already learned of the existence of Horcrux yesterday.
He was very interested.
Who wouldn't want to live forever?
Of course, he wouldn't do something like splitting one's soul.
He knew a little about the soul, and any magic targeting the soul required utmost caution.
"As you wish, master."
Tom began to narrate in an orderly manner.
The principles, manufacturing methods, precautions, and potential side effects are all explained without reservation.
"... Once the soul is split, it can never Reparo, and it may make your mind very unstable."
After Tom finished his summary, he fell silent.
Morris increasingly felt that Horcrux were a terrible form of magic.
"Then, Tom," he asked, puzzled, "Since Horcrux have such serious side effects, why did you even bother making them?"
The red light in the Skeleton Dog's eyes flickered.
"Because I don't care, Master," Tom replied without hesitation. "For me, immortality is a goal I must achieve. There's always a price to pay for power, especially the power to fight death."
No wonder he's Voldemort.
"It seems you have a high level of awareness," Morris remarked. "Unfortunately, you're a bit foolish."
"You're right, master." Tom lowered his head.
Morris smiled and said nothing more.
To be honest, he also longed for an endless lifespan.
But let's forget about Horcrux.
If he had a choice, he would rather die of old age than have his soul torn into pieces.
That's terrifying.
Instead of Meditation as usual, Morris planned to go to the Chamber of Secrets to deal with the Basilisk's corpse.
As he walked up the spiral staircase, a dazzling flame suddenly ignited before his eyes, accompanied by a melodious cry.
A red bird gracefully landed on the armrest beside him.
It is Dumbledore's Phoenix, Fawkes.
Fawkes called out to him a few times.
Morris paused, "You want me to grab you?"
Fawkes nodded humanely.
Morris reached out and grabbed the other's beautiful tail.
Then I got pecked.
"Ouch—" Morris winced in pain, putting the tail hair he had accidentally plucked into his pocket.