A certain Hogwarts professor of runes.

The diary poured out a line of words with a disdainful tone: "That's just an illusion." He asked a sharp question, "Felix Heap, do you think Slytherin caused more killing, or more lives fell by Gryffindor wands and swords?"

Felix's expression froze.

The diary seemed to have anticipated his reaction, and a deliberately bolded sentence appeared on the page. Just reading the words revealed his sarcasm: "Yes, yes, history has always been distorted—Gryffindor was a butcher, and more wizards died at his hands than the other three founders combined."

At the end of this conversation, the diary made no attempt to conceal its malice towards Gryffindor: "A sword in one hand, a wand in the other, stepping over corpses, he earned the title of the greatest duelist of his time—that is Godric Gryffindor!"

……

Felix closed the diary, his expression becoming inscrutable.

“Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor,” he murmured the names of the two former close friends.

Felix certainly didn't believe the diary was entirely true, but he also didn't think it was full of lies; judging from his tone and wording, it did have some credibility.

“I need a guide, preferably someone who was there at the time.” Felix suddenly thought of a name.

Ms. Gray.

This beautiful but usually very arrogant Ravenclaw ghost also has another name—Helena Ravenclaw.

She is the daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw, one of the four founders of Hogwarts—this was a secret, which Felix only learned by chance through Barrow the Blood.

The love-hate entanglement between these two could easily be written into a vulgar romance novel.

Felix pondered. Although she was a generation younger, she belonged to the same era as the four founders of Hogwarts and must know many secrets from the early days of Hogwarts.

Meanwhile, Harry tossed and turned on his bed in the dormitory.

Whether it was the information he gleaned from Malfoy or Hermione's accidental ingestion of Polyjuice Potion laced with cat hair, neither of these things kept him awake at night.

It was past midnight when Harry drifted off to sleep, but he suddenly felt something stepping on his stomach, making it hard for him to breathe.

He opened his eyes and saw a house-elf with two large, bat-like ears and protruding green eyes as big as tennis balls.

Dobby!

Harry screamed softly, glancing around to see his other roommates still sound asleep.

……

The next day, Harry and Ron arrived at the school hospital early to visit Hermione.

Just last night, they took Polyjuice Potion in an attempt to get information out of Draco Malfoy—they had always suspected that Draco Malfoy was the one who opened the secret room.

But things went wrong. Hermione's shapeshifting target, Milison, had a cat, and she mistakenly threw cat hair into the potion thinking it was Milison's hair, resulting in serious consequences.

Her face was covered in black hair, her eyes had turned yellow, and two long, pointed ears protruded from her hair.

When Harry and Ron entered the ward, she was begging Madam Pomfrey to put a curtain around her bed.

"Did you get any leads last night?" she asked in a low voice so that Mrs. Pomfrey wouldn't hear.

“No,” Harry said dejectedly.

“I’m pretty sure it was Malfoy,” Ron said. “He wasn’t telling the truth. He yelled at us when we questioned him about the Chamber of Secrets, didn’t he, Harry?”

"What happened?" Hermione asked with great interest.

Ron explained, “We pretended to admire him—which was hard, considering Crabbe and Goyle are usually pretty clueless. We asked him if he knew anything, but he jumped up and warned us to shut up or he’d give us a piece of his mind. I was actually quite curious about that.”

Hermione sighed, her long ears drooping.

Harry glanced around and whispered, "I've made a bit of a comeback. Around midnight last night, that house-elf named Dobby came looking for me again..."

"Last night?" Ron asked.

“Yeah, you were asleep.” Harry shrugged.

“Harry,” Ron said, frowning knowingly, “I must remind you, house-elves are extremely loyal servants; their obedience to their masters is almost ingrained in their very bones. I’ve never seen anything like what you’re describing, this kind—”

He couldn't think of a suitable description.

Harry said, "He was certainly eccentric, but I think he respected me, yes, respected me. He told me that danger still looms over Hogwarts."

"And then?" Ron asked, a hint of interest in his voice.

"Then he started banging his head against the railing like crazy..." Harry said, utterly speechless.

Chapter 75 The Next Legend

The next morning, Felix received the research data from the Room of Requirement.

He easily found the "big cabinet with a bubbly surface, like it had been splashed with strong acid" that Tom had mentioned. After using a levitation charm to move the cabinet, he discovered a dusty wooden box hidden behind it.

He carefully waved his wand, his body shimmering with layers of protective magic, and used a unlocking spell to open the long-sealed box, inside which was a thick stack of neatly cut parchment.

There were no curses, no black magic, and no traps.

This disappointed Felix, who was fully armed and taking the matter very seriously.

Aside from the strong stench emanating from the half-closed cabinet, which forced him to cast a head-soaking spell, the whole process was surprisingly easy.

Back in his office, Felix eagerly began to examine the document.

To be honest, the process was rather agonizing. The materials contained a large number of anatomical diagrams of magical creatures and annotations by Slytherin himself. As Felix ran his hand across the pages, he could almost hear the dying cries of these creatures.

This reminded him of his experience studying black magic; his heart seemed to be soaking in foul-smelling black water, with invisible arms desperately dragging him down.

Felix quickly used Occlumency to shut himself off, and he forced himself to read through the information on the parchment, enduring the discomfort.

About an hour later—

"Whoo~"

Felix let out a long breath; his feelings were very complicated.

It's difficult to grasp the weight of Salazar Slytherin's name from mere fragments of later accounts. To some extent, Felix even understood why Tom Riddle was so fanatical and reverent towards Slytherin at the age of sixteen or seventeen.

That was definitely not because of his status as a descendant of Slytherin.

He looked at the parchments before him. They were not merely carriers of knowledge—each parchment contained Salazar Slytherin's own thoughts and will as he wrote them. It was a kind of calm, even cold, rationality. In his eyes, all kinds of magical creatures were merely materials to be studied. You could not feel the slightest bit of sympathy or pity for them.

But it is precisely this absolute calmness that makes Slytherin's research process extremely systematic, with every line of text and every composition containing the ultimate charm of magic.

Even under the protection of Occlumency, Felix couldn't help but yearn for it and the thought of following in Slytherin's footsteps stirred within him.

This is not the influence of magic, but the powerful personal charisma exuded by a legendary wizard on his path of pursuing magic.

Felix forced himself to seal the documents away completely, "That's not my path," he told himself.

He was left with only three parchments, each containing the knowledge he had chosen that best suited him.

However, Felix did not immediately begin his study. He stood up, walked to the window, and gazed at the distant scenery of Hogwarts.

His mind was in turmoil.

"Ha! Tom, is this your plan? Even in extreme disadvantage, you can find a way to fight back," Felix muttered.

Many books in the wizarding world are potentially dangerous, and not everyone is qualified to read them. Like the restricted section at Hogwarts, which contains a large number of dangerous books—not just the knowledge they contain, but many of which come with a terrible price to pay for simply reading.

Tom Riddle's purpose was clear: to use the allure of Salazar Slytherin's own magical path to influence and assimilate Felix's thinking.

I can't beat you, and I can't influence you, but I can find someone stronger than me and have their thoughts change you.

The winter sun is warm but not glaring, the snow in the courtyard is white but not dazzling, and the cold wind blowing through the tower is sharp but not biting.

He gazed into the distance and whispered, "Salazar Slytherin..."

"...In a sense, we are all heading in the same direction, pursuing the ultimate in magic. But I have my own path, and I will not jump into your domain just because you have gone further."

"Everyone starts from weakness. Thousands of years ago, didn't you also feel lost about your path just like I do today?"

"Right now, you are a steep and treacherous mountain in my eyes, an unattainable legend, but time is on my side, the future is on my side. One day, I will walk alongside you until I surpass you."

Felix stood by the window, watching the sun rise until it reached its zenith. As its light spread to every corner of Hogwarts, his resolve was renewed.

That morning, Felix didn't think about any magical questions, but he felt that his understanding of "magic" itself had taken a big step forward. This "progress" was all-encompassing; it couldn't be reflected in any specific spell, but it gave him a feeling of clearing away the fog.

He knew that the bottleneck in his long-standing magical theory had finally loosened.

The accumulation of the past few years has now earned the right to undergo a qualitative change.

Felix waved his wand, and a milky white light emanated from him, illuminating the courtyard below, the greenhouse in the distance, the snow on the ground, and even the frozen Black Lake.

The dappled light from the swaying withered branches and the shadows of the black stones by the lake vanished in that instant.

In the headmaster's office next to the main castle building, Dumbledore, with his beard flowing, held a piece of honeydew candy. He looked up, his azure eyes reflecting a bright gaze through his half-moon spectacles.

“That’s remarkable,” he said softly. “Isn’t that right, Fox?”

A phoenix, no bigger than the palm of a hand, was preening its feathers.

At this very moment, right here at Hogwarts School, all sorts of human experiences are unfolding—

Gilderoy Lockhart was fast asleep in bed, enjoying the leisurely Christmas holidays;

Professor McGonagall made herself a cup of coffee and flipped through the students' report cards;

Professor Flitwick waved his wand and read "An Analysis of Spells" with great interest;

Professor Sprout tends to the mischievous mandrake in the warm greenhouse;

Professor Snape was fiddling with a measuring cup with a look of disgust on his face, with an illustrated booklet next to him;

Hermione Granger looked in the mirror and tugged at the cat ears on her head in distress;

Luna Lovegood sat in the Ravenclaw lounge, nodding her head as she read a joke book;

……

On the snow, two young wizards trudged through the snow.

Harry suddenly felt a flash of white light before his eyes. He looked around but found nothing.

“Did you notice?” he said to his companion.

"What?" Ron looked up and said absentmindedly.

"I think there was a flash of light just now..."

"Where?" Ron looked around, but found nothing.

The two continued walking through the snow in the courtyard toward Professor McGonagall's office.

A gust of wind blew, carrying a few fallen leaves, and their faint voices drifted over—