A certain Hogwarts professor of runes

It took about twenty minutes for the diary to tell a story of a "young boy who had a chance encounter".

While he was at school, he accidentally wandered into a room on the eighth floor of the castle. It was a huge storeroom filled with treasures collected by young Hogwarts wizards over the centuries.

"I later inquired and learned that they rumored this mysterious room was called the Flying Room or the Room of Response," the diary entry read. "That's where I got that part of the information—it was probably hidden by one of my former little wizards."

Felix smirked and wrote in his diary: "So, you didn't find Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets, but another hidden room? You found Slytherin's research materials in that hidden room—the Room of Requirement?"

A few words quickly appeared in the diary: "That's it."

Felix tapped his fingers on the table, thought for a moment, and then wrote in his diary: "Are those research materials still in the Room of Requirement? You didn't take them with you?"

"I believe—these are Hogwarts property. Before I graduated, I put them behind a large, bubbly cabinet that looked like it had been splashed with acid. It was easy to find, and I remember there was a foul-smelling five-legged monster inside. Next to it was a rather ugly-looking wizard statue," the diary entry read.

Felix pursed his lips, trying his best not to laugh out loud.

That's interesting, absolutely very interesting.

The conversation between the two was like a complex game of wits, full of lies and misleading statements, a battle of wits to see who was more clever.

Before this, Felix never even dared to hope that he could get the information about the hidden room of the Chamber of Secrets from the diary; that was too unrealistic and would be tantamount to revealing his identity as the "heir to the Chamber of Secrets".

His purpose today was actually to try and find out one or two off-campus locations where research materials were hidden, which was one of the possibilities he speculated about. But the more likely scenario was that Tom Riddle had destroyed all the materials—the result he least wanted to see.

Fortunately, the diary directly told him about the room on the eighth floor.

It was worth all the effort he put in.

However, Felix had a premonition that since the diary chose to tell him, it meant that it wasn't important information—at least not to the Dark Lord.

But he still replied cheerfully in his diary, "Thank you, Tom, I will verify it. If I have misunderstood you, I will apologize."

"I hope so," the diary replied calmly.

Felix wrote with a touch of regret, "People didn't know what a glorious era Slytherin's research would usher in, which is why he has always been seen as an evil dark wizard. Tom, you did the right thing."

The diary didn't reply; the soul within it belonging to Tom Riddle was about to explode with rage.

Felix added, "Slytherin and Gryffindor are two extremes. Godric Gryffindor himself was much more positively regarded: fair, brave, and just..."

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 did more lives fall 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, treading on corpses, he achieved 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 about 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 a compound 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 preparation for getting information out of Draco Malfoy—they had always suspected that Draco Malfoy was the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets.

But things went wrong. Hermione's shapeshifting target, Milison, had a cat, and Hermione 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 did have something else going on. Around midnight last night, that house-elf named Dobby came to see me again..."

"Last night?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, you were asleep." Harry shrugged.

“Harry,” Ron said with a frown, “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.