Seeing Quirrell faint, the face continued, "The Chamber of Secrets, the room on the 7th floor for hiding things (Room of Requirement), and the pipes in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. These are all good hiding spots."
Basil nodded, speaking in unison with the Diary: "Safe, but only safe. You and I both understand that you are allowed in Hogwarts entirely due to a tacit agreement between you and Dumbledore. One of the conditions is that you cannot cause casualties."
"What do you mean?"
"You should understand."
"Are you threatening me? You wish to hunt outside to gain a physical form?" The face, Voldemort, felt murderous intent for the first time.
In this world, there can only be one Voldemort!
Even if it meant destroying a Horcrux, he didn't care!
In fact, the Diary absorbing Life Force so slowly was a restriction he had set himself.
Basil nodded. "Yes. If you don't agree, I will randomly pick a lucky student to be the 'blood bag' for shaping my body. At that time, you won't be able to stay in Hogwarts either."
"Oh?" Voldemort sneered. "Do you really think Dumbledore would know about everything that happens in Hogwarts?"
"Of course." Basil answered decisively. "Just like that room on the 7th floor. It's not far from the Headmaster's office, yet you hid a Horcrux there too—"
"How do you know?!" Voldemort raged.
In his mind, he silently swapped the trap-filled safehouse he planned to provide the Diary with a relatively harmless one.
"Of course I know. Ravenclaw's Diadem, right? I didn't expect Helena to open her heart to me in the end."
"Hmph!" Voldemort snorted coldly. "Back when I still had that disgusting (handsome) face, no woman could say no to me."
"So, the address?"
"There is no address. There is a lineage of House-elves in the kitchens that has always belonged to Slytherin. I discovered this near graduation. Perhaps it's also related to the fact that I hadn't discarded the lowly Riddle part back then. As long as Slytherin's descendants don't harm the school, or the orders don't harm the school, they will obey." Speaking of this, Voldemort was a bit annoyed.
This lineage of elves didn't listen to his orders anymore.
Was it because of Myrtle's death?
Or perhaps because he was now opposed to Hogwarts Headmaster Dumbledore?
Anyway, now they would at most follow orders like putting salt in Dumbledore's dessert—petty pranks.
"Will they still listen to 'my' orders?"
"You issue commands through this boy using Parseltongue. They understand Snake Language. This boy is equivalent to a clean descendant of Slytherin."
"What are their names?"
"They are all called Lala. Just tell it you need to send something to Safehouse No. 7. Oh, and you don't have to go to the kitchens. At the statue in the Chamber of Secrets, call their name, and they can hear you." Voldemort suppressed his anger.
Lucius Malfoy had been thoroughly sentenced to death in his mind.
At the same time, he felt a bit of regret.
If only the boy in front of him wasn't controlled, and he himself had recovered some vitality...
He could confidently check the boy's mind and find out how he was discovered.
"Lala?" In Voldemort's eyes, Basil's gaze was empty, still 'controlled.'
Little did he know, Basil was daydreaming about how to loot the Galleons in the safehouse once Riddle secured it.
Basil suppressed his joy. "Then I'll leave first. I will leave this boy with the memory of you answering his question about what a Grand Wizard is."
"Hmph! It seems Lucius really hates this kid. You can modify memories... He probably provided a lot of Life Force when sending you over." Voldemort sneered again. But he didn't stop Basil from leaving the room. instead, he picked up the turban and began wrapping it around his head.
After walking a distance from the office, in a blind spot for portraits and ghosts, Basil vanished.
A second later, Basil reappeared in the bathroom of the empty dormitory.
"Riddle, how was my performance?"
Riddle, who had returned to the Diary holding a wand ready for battle, said, "My Lord, your last point was a bit unsatisfactory. Before I fully recover, I cannot manipulate the memories of the possessed person. The possessed person will just wake up confused, knowing nothing. Luckily, Voldemort convinced himself."
"He can't imagine there would be a second Diary Horcrux in this world."
"Besides that, with your keen insight, you coordinated well with me. Especially since he likes to refer to House-elves as 'It' rather than 'He' or 'She'."
---
Professor McGonagall was very depressed lately.
Her office was a small study off a corridor on the first floor (second floor in US terms).
It had a roaring fireplace and a hidden door leading to a bedroom with a stone floor.
But from either room, the window offered a view of the Quidditch pitch and the lawns outside the castle.
These two locations were where House team practices and Flying Lessons took place.
In Flying Class, the Malfoy boy performed no worse than Harry, after adjusting his grip.
But that wasn't much.
Gryffindor teams usually trained harder.
Slytherin teams just went through the motions.
If they weren't all huge, rich (good brooms), and fond of fouling, she couldn't imagine how Slytherin ever beat Gryffindor.
But this boy (Draco) was different.
Even when the House team wasn't training...
He was practicing diligently.
In that case, her wish—to see the Slytherin Quidditch team fail—might be in jeopardy.
That wasn't the only thing troubling her.
As Deputy Headmistress...
Teachers in her department were usually responsible for verifying castle assets.
Recently, they discovered that tables and chairs in many empty classrooms were being destroyed one by one.
Some were even missing.
They suspected Peeves.
Peeves admitted it himself (actually: It was me, so what? Nya-nya!).
Fortunately, the destruction stopped afterward.
Besides this, two students in her Transfiguration class gave her a headache.
One was Seamus Finnigan, who would blow up his spell if she looked away for a second.
The other was Basil Granger, who was too erratic.
Although he was excellent.
He always liked to ask outrageous questions.
And had ideas that were logically sound but crazy.
For example, when she said Transfiguration could transform and splice anything visible...
He asked if one could use a microscope that could see DNA to observe the DNA structure of oneself and a desired magical creature.
Then experiment with using Permanent Transfiguration to insert the latter's DNA fragments into the former.
Then use potions with the modified blood as raw material to refine a flesh shell.
After multiple experiments, once the appearance and Magic Field were harmonious, apply the result to oneself.
But today, this child was unusually quiet.
After completing today's objective—turning a quill into a spoon—he sat motionless.
Unlike before, he didn't shamelessly come up to hold her hand and ask questions.
---