Leonard was startled by how bold his own speculation had gotten.
Those over-the-top fantasy sayings from his previous life, space reigns supreme, time is sovereign, had clearly left quite an impression on him.
He had thought the existence of a Time-Turner was already outrageous enough. He had not expected to run into something that looked suspiciously like time magic right in front of him.
"Calm down first. It's not certain yet. It just looks a little similar. It might just be a permanently fixed Scouring Charm."
Leonard ran a hand over the notebook, which seemed fused to the desk as though they were one single object. Silver light flickered in his eyes as he analyzed the nature of this strange thing.
This was definitely not ordinary magic fixed in place.
No magic could leave any trace on this desk. It was like an insulator, ignoring all magical influence.
If it were simply a fixed spell, then no matter how powerful the caster had been, it would still show at least some reaction under the influence of magic.
And more importantly, under magical sight, the desk looked like amber.
It was not that it lacked magic. Rather, the magic that should have been flowing inside it had been pushed to the outside and frozen there, forming a peculiar shell.
That shell was what prevented the desk from interacting with magic. It really did look almost as if time itself had been frozen.
But...
"This isn't time-based power. The congealed magic on the outer layer is showing slight signs of dispersal. Without outside interference, it should probably hold for a few hundred more years."
Leonard felt slightly disappointed, but also relieved.
If Salazar Slytherin, one of Hogwarts' four founders, had possessed something that terrifying, then Leonard would not only have to be wary of dangers in the present, but also threats from the past and the future.
With the things he had done and the power he possessed, if any of it were exposed, there would definitely be no shortage of self-righteous wizards trying to crusade against him.
Including the kind from the future.
Just thinking about it was exhausting.
Fortunately, it had only been a false alarm. The desk in front of him merely held a kind of ancient and unusual magic Leonard had never encountered before.
Its power might not necessarily be that great, and the way it was cast, along with the whole process behind it, was probably so complicated that it could not be used in an ordinary magical duel. But its effect was undeniably fascinating.
Leonard would need to study its principles in detail later. Originally, he had planned to toss the whole thing into the miniature man-eating flower's internal space, carry it with him, and study it when he had time. But he soon discovered that the desk was fused to the floor and could not be moved at all.
Thinking about it, that made sense. If this thing could be moved, Voldemort would never have left it behind for anyone else. He would have packed it up and taken it with him long ago, whether he could figure anything out from it or not. Better for it to rot in his own pot than someone else's.
Since it could not be taken away, the only option was to study it here. Once the outer Chamber was overgrown with Devil's Snare, this place would belong entirely to Leonard, so there was no need to rush.
Still, Leonard could not help casting another curious glance at the notebook.
The notebook was not closed and set on the desk. It lay open and flat, as though its owner had merely stepped away for a moment and would return at any time.
That meant the contents were not completely hidden from view.
And the page currently displayed was something rather interesting.
It described a curse, an intriguing piece of curse magic that targeted a specific thing and brought misfortune upon its holder.
"A curse..."
Leonard narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. He thought he finally understood where the curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, the one that had plagued Hogwarts for decades, had come from.
Voldemort had definitely failed to break the special magic on this desk, but he had learned a curse targeting specific objects from the page the notebook had been opened to.
Treat the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor as an object, curse its ownership, and anyone who obtained it would be cursed in turn.
Leonard skimmed it briefly. The curse was rather complex and not something he could learn in a short time, so he set the thought aside for now.
He had already stayed here long enough. Harris Raymons, after catching a look from the Basilisk's eyes, had probably already been discovered by now.
Dead, definitely not. The Black Lake was giant squid territory. Harris Raymons would only need to appear there for a little while before the giant squid noticed him, so there was no way he would actually drown in the Black Lake.
At this point, he was probably either having a delightful time playing with the giant squid, or had already been dumped on shore.
Leonard left the inner Chamber and watched Salazar Slytherin's statue slowly close its mouth again. Once more, he found himself marveling at just how narcissistic this dark wizard had been. Then he turned to look at the Blood Grape, which was slowly withering away.
No matter how powerful the Blood Grape's abilities were, under the effects of rapid accelerated growth, it would still meet death in a very short time.
But before it completely withered, one vine bearing several blood-red grapes stretched itself toward Leonard, and three of those luscious-looking grapes dropped into his hand.
The Blood Grape might be withering, but the records it had devoured and preserved would not go to waste.
These three grapes each contained the information of the shadow serpent, Voldemort, and the Basilisk. As long as Leonard incorporated them into the cultivation of an enhanced Blood Grape in the future, those abilities, shadow serpent, Voldemort, and Basilisk, could all be permanently retained.
The shadow serpent and the Basilisk were one thing. The most important was still Voldemort.
He was Leonard's key to opening the Chamber.
...
Meanwhile, inside Hogwarts Castle.
The Hospital Wing, dressed up in its special Halloween limited-edition decor, welcomed its second faculty guest.
Amid a flurry of commotion, Harris Raymons was brought in by several students who had been playing by the Black Lake.
Lying in his hospital bed, Filch looked at the stiff, unconscious Harris Raymons and felt a strange sense of satisfaction. After all, this so-called genius wizard looked even more miserable than he did.
Sharing something like this with a wizard gave Filch a strangely satisfying sense of comparison. In some odd way, the Harris Raymons lying over there on the bed did not seem all that different from him.
Madam Pomfrey gave the unconscious, soaking-wet Harris Raymons a full examination, while Dumbledore and several professors hurried anxiously to the scene.
A professor being attacked was no small matter. Every professor at Hogwarts who could still be counted as combat-capable had rushed over, including Madam Hooch, who normally only taught flying lessons and served as Quidditch referee.
Naturally, that excluded professors from more research-oriented subjects like Muggle Studies, Arithmancy, and Astronomy, as well as classes like Divination, which was generally considered not much use at all.