Charon finally decided to take the plunge. He wasn't curious to look at the illusions that Voldemort had tricked thirty years ago, and he didn't care about the so-called secret room heirs.

Charon was just curious about the journal's approach. How can you stuff a soul into something inanimate?

This time he went to the East, and Charon saw the power of zombies. The biggest difference between skeletons and zombies is that skeletons are just a thing, puppets that need to be manipulated wholeheartedly by necromancers. Whereas, the zombie has its own consciousness, it is a magical magical creature that defends or attacks itself with a simple command.

Charon then wondered if he could put a ghost or spirit into the skeleton and let it control the skeleton on its own. Wouldn't that be a lot easier? Necromancers also don't have the problem of controlling the upper limit of the number of skeletons, as many skeletons there are.

How do you put a ghost or spirit into a skeleton? There is a great example in front of me, Voldemort himself cut a piece of his soul and stuffed it into an ordinary notebook. What a good guy!

Charon made arrangements, as long as he had signs of entering the demon, there would be a talisman to exorcise evil spirits immediately, and he didn't believe in his heart that a mere diary could suppress him, and his spiritual power was nearly a hundred.

In this way, Charon made all the preparations, stretched out his hand and wrote two words: "Okay! ”

The diary seemed to be blown by a strong wind, and the pages clattered to a certain page in mid-June. Charon looked at the small square on June 13 and seemed to have turned into a miniature television screen. He leaned his face in, and the window seemed to suddenly start to widen.

At this time, a memory passed from the diary like a torrent, and ordinary people would have been completely lost in it, as if they had traveled to the past moment. Of course, Charon would not be like this, and it was very dangerous to let a stream of memories enter his sea of consciousness at will.

He carefully operated the Golden Guan Yu Lock Twenty-Four Decisions, used his strong spiritual power to protect his consciousness, and then isolated this memory in an area, and then slowly checked it little by little.

The memory began as a room, a circular room with sleeping portraits on the wall, as if it were Dumbledore's office - but instead of Dumbledore sitting behind a desk, it was a frail, shriveled wizard with only a few strands of white hair on his bald head, reading a letter by candlelight. Charon had never seen this man before.

After a while, the wizard sighed, folded the letter, stood up, and opened the curtains. The sky outside the window is full of red glow; It seems like it's sunset. The wizard returned to the table, sat down, absentmindedly playing with his two thumbs, and looked at the door.

Charon looked around the office. There's no Phoenix Fox, and there's no buzzing silver gadgets. This was the Hogwarts that Riddle knew, that is, the wizard he didn't know was the headmaster at the time.

There was a knock on the door outside the office.

"Come in." The old wizard said in a feeble voice.

A boy of about sixteen walked in and took off his pointed hat. A silver badge of rank glittered on his chest. He was much taller than Harry, but also had jet-black shiny hair.

"Ah, Riddle." The principal said.

"You want to see me, Professor Dippert?" Riddle said, looking a little nervous.

"Sit down," said Dippert, "I've been reading that letter you gave me. ”

"Oh." Riddle said. He sat down, his hands clasped tightly together.

"My dear child," Dippet said kindly, "I can't let you stay at school for the summer. You'd love to go home for the holidays, right?"

"No," Riddle said immediately, "I'd rather stay at Hogwarts than go to that—that—"

"You live in a Muggle orphanage on vacation, don't you?" Dippet said curiously. "Yes, sir." Riddle said, blushing slightly.

"Are you Muggle-born?"

"It's a half-blood, sir," said Riddle, "and my father is a Muggle and my mother is a witch." ”

"Your parents are—"

"My mother died just after she gave birth, sir. They told me in the orphanage that she had only time to name me: Tom, with my father. ”

Dippert smacked his tongue sympathetically. "Here's the thing, Tom," he sighed, "we would have liked to make some special arrangements for you, but in the present circumstances ......"

"Are you referring to all these attacks, sir?" Riddle asked.

Charon drew his attention, and it was time to talk about the Chamber of Secrets.

"Not badly at all," said the headmaster, "my dear child, you must see how foolish it would be if I allowed you to remain in the castle after the term was over. Especially after the recent tragedy...... The poor little girl died...... It's much safer for you to stay in an orphanage. I'll tell you the truth, the Ministry of Magic is even talking about closing schools. We don't have a ...... clue about the root causes of all these misadventures."

Riddle's eyes widened.

"Sir—if that person is caught...... If everything stops......"

"What do you mean?" Dippet said, his voice a little harsh, as he stood up from his chair. "Riddle, are you saying you know anything about these attacks?"

"No, sir." Riddle said quickly.

Diper sat back down, slightly disappointed.

"You can go, Tom ......"

Riddle slipped out of his chair and shuffled out of the room with heavy steps. He descended the spiral staircase, then emerged from the monster-shaped dripping spout in the darkening hallway.

Riddle paused, as if in serious thought. I saw him biting his lip and wrinkles on his forehead. Then, as if suddenly he had made up his mind, he hurried away.

Along the way, they saw no one, and finally they came to the foyer, where a tall wizard with long flowing hair and beard of russet greeted Riddle on the marble staircase. "What are you doing, Tom, still messing around so late?"

He was none other than Dumbledore, who was fifty years younger.

"I was going to see the Headmaster, sir." Riddle said.

"Alright, let's go to bed." Dumbledore said, staring at Riddle with that penetrating gaze. "It's best not to wander the hallways these days. Now that it's been ......"

He sighed heavily, said goodnight to Riddle, and strode away. Riddle watched him out of sight, then quickly stepped down the stone steps that led to the underground classroom.

Riddle made his way to the underground classroom where Potions class was held. He pushed the door almost shut, and then stood motionless in the doorway, staring out into the passageway, and he peeked out through the crack in the door, waiting like a statue. Until there was movement outside the door.

Someone quietly walked through the passageway, and the man walked past the underground classroom where Riddle was hiding. Riddle was silent like a shadow, leaning sideways through the crack in the door and following.

For about five minutes, he followed that footsteps. Finally Riddle stopped abruptly and tilted his head to listen to the voice that had just appeared. A door creaked open, and someone whispered in a hoarse voice.

"Come here...... Come out, come up here...... Come here...... Come into the box......" The man's voice seemed familiar.

Riddle jumped and turned the corner. Charon saw the dark figure of a large boy crouched in front of an open door with a large chest beside it.

"Good evening, Rubeus." Riddle said sternly.

The boy slammed the door shut and stood up. "What are you doing here, Tom?"

Riddle took a few steps closer. "It's over," he said, "and I have to tell you, Rubeus. They are discussing the closure of Hogwarts if the attacks don't stop. ”

"What are you talking about—"

"I know you didn't mean to kill. But monsters aren't ideal pets. I guess you're just letting it out and move, knot-"

"It didn't kill anyone!" The big boy said, taking a few steps back and leaning back against the closed door.

Charon could hear a strange ———— and clattering sound coming from behind him.

"Come on, Rubeus," said Riddle, drawing a little closer, "the dead girl's parents will be here tomorrow. Hogwarts is at least guaranteed to kill the guy who killed their daughter......"

"It's not it!" The boy yelled, his voice echoing through the dimly lit passage, "It won't! Never!"

"Get out of the way." Riddle said, drawing his wand.

His spell lit up the hallway with a sudden burst of fire. The door behind the big boy slammed open, and the force slammed him against the opposite wall. Out of the door came something a large, low, hairy body, clumped black legs, many shining eyes, two knife-sharp pincers—Riddle raised his wand again, but it was too late.

The monster scurried away, knocking him to the ground, then darted across the hallway and vanished. Riddle stumbled to his feet and looked at its back; He raised his wand, but the big boy lunged at him, grabbed it, and knocked him to the ground, shouting, "No——!"

Then it was pitch black and the memory was over.

Charon straightened up and looked at the journal, and he recognized the big boy as Hagrid! That's why Hagrid can't have a wand, why he can only be a forest keeper and not a professor!

"I see!" Charon looked at the journal with a smile on his lips.