Chapter 96: The Correct Use of a Horcrux, A Pink Speech
September 1st, late at night.
Deep within the Slytherin dungeons of Hogwarts, Morrin's private Alchemy Laboratory.
This place was under the highest level of Silencing and Anti-detection Charms.
In the center of the room, on an obsidian table engraved with complex Alchemy Arrays, lay the slytherins locketquietly.
It was vibrating.
A visible black mist was trying to seep out from the cracks of the locket; it was the malice of Lord Voldemort's soul fragment.
It felt the threat and was trying to bewitch the boy before it.
"Put me on... I can give you power... I can make you a king..."
Whispers echoed in Morrin's mind.
If it were Ron, he might have lost his composure by now; even Harry would feel a splitting headache.
But Morrin White only looked at it coldly, as if watching a fly bumping around in a glass jar.
"Save it, Tom."
Morrin sat in a high-backed chair, not holding a wand, but wearing those specially made "Spirit-Binding Gloves" embedded with the essence of Dementor slices.
"I've even beaten your main body. Do you, a mere fraction of a soul, really think you can brainwash me?"
He reached out and pressed down on the restless locket.
[System Notification]
[High-risk Horcrux detected: slytherins locket]
[Soul Strength: Extremely High (Fragmented Soul)]
[Warning: This item carries a powerful curse; direct contact with the soul may lead to exhaustion.]
"Curse?" Morrin's lips curled slightly. "That's a definition for the weak."
The [Pure Blood (Red · Cursed)] within his body began to boil.
As a type of Unicorn blood that was older and more fundamental than Lord Voldemort's curse, it was naturally immune to most Dark Arts erosion.
Morrin's pupils turned gold.
[Gate of Truth (Gold)] — Soul Stripping · Energy Conversion.
"Lockdown."
With his low shout, the Alchemy Array on the obsidian table instantly lit up with a blinding golden light.
Those lights turned into countless tiny chains, tightly binding the locket and forcibly suppressing the black mist that tried to overflow.
Then, Morrin did not use a Basilisk fang to destroy it like Harry did.
Destruction was too wasteful.
He took out several extremely fine Mithril Probes and carefully inserted them into the gaps of the locket.
"In this world, energy is expensive."
Morrin watched the black liquid energy beginning to flow through the tubes:
"Lord Voldemort created you for immortality, but I am keeping you to provide fuel for my Magic Power Furnace."
Sizzle—
The Horcrux let out a piercing scream, but under the suppression of the Alchemy Array, not a sound could escape.
Morrin was extracting the pure magic from the Horcrux and filtering out the personal consciousness within.
[Extracting: the Dark Lord's Magic Source]
[Extraction Progress: 1%...]
[Congratulations on obtaining Trait Fragment]: Parseltongue (Complete form - obtained through analysis, no system charges required)
[Congratulations on obtaining Trait Fragment]: Dark Arts Intuition (Greatly improved ability to predict jinxes)
Morrin felt a cold but massive power flow into his body, strengthening his magic source.
"Take it slow." Morrin pulled out the probes, looking satisfied at the locket that was no longer restless, as if it had been "drained of its strength." "This battery will last me a long time."
As for the Resurrection Stone Ring that might cost Dumbledore his life...
Morrin narrowed his eyes.
"Once I've dealt with this, you're next. That old man might be stubborn, but he's worthless if he's dead. I have to intercept that thing before he puts the ring on."
...The next day, in the Great Hall.
At last night's Start-of-term Feast, Umbridge had given a long-winded speech.
Hermione summarized it perfectly: "Though it was nonsense, the meaning was clear: the Ministry of Magic is going to interfere with Hogwarts."
At the breakfast table today, everyone was discussing the new timetables.
"Look!" Malfoy pointed at the staff table. "That pink toad is looking at you, Morrin."
Morrin looked up.
Umbridge was sitting high up, her eyes under those puffy lids staring intently at the Slytherin table.
She clearly remembered the grudge from being humiliated by Morrin at the Ministry of Magic over the summer.
"She's looking for trouble." Morrin took a sip of coffee. "Tell everyone in Slytherin to maintain 'absolute, suffocating' politeness in her class. Don't give her any excuse to deduct points."
"Why?" Malfoy was puzzled. "Are we afraid of her?"
"No. It's because I want her to concentrate all her fire on Gryffindor." Morrin glanced at Harry, who was arguing with Seamus in the distance. "Some people are born targets for drawing fire."
...In the afternoon, in the Defense Against the Dark Artsclassroom.
Umbridge sat behind the podium, a nauseatingly sweet smile plastered on her face.
"wands away," she commanded. "In my class, there is no need to wave wands."
The whole class was in an uproar.
Harry and Ron exchanged angry glances. Hermione's hand was raised high.
"I'd like to ask, how can we learn defense without using wands?" Hermione pointed out sharply.
"As long as you master the theory, you will pass your exams," Umbridge said in a saccharine voice. "As for practical application... I can't imagine who would want to attack you in my classroom?"
"Maybe Lord Voldemort?" Harry finally couldn't help but shout.
A deathly silence fell over the classroom.
The smile on Umbridge's face vanished.
"Detention, Mr. Potter," she said softly. "Five o'clock tonight, come to my office. We need to have a... good talk."
Harry was shaking with rage as he sat back down.
"Does anyone else have an opinion?" Umbridge scanned the room.
"I do."
A lazy, cold voice came from the back row.
Morrin White did not raise his hand.
He leaned back in his chair, twirling that black ironwood wand he hadn't put away.
Umbridge's eyelid twitched. "Mr. White? Do you also have issues with the Ministry's syllabus?"
"It's not an issue; it's a question."
Morrin stood up, the sense of pressure making Umbridgeinstinctively grip her wand.
"Professor, you just said, 'As long as you master the theory, you will pass your exams.' From the perspective of exam-oriented education, that's fine."
Morrin walked slowly into the aisle, all eyes on him.
"However, as an employer who owns dozens of businesses in the wizarding world and employs hundreds of people."
Morrin's voice grew stern:
"If my employee, when faced with danger, can only recite the first chapter of 'Magical Defensive Theory' but cannot cast a simple 'Protego'..."
"Then I would fire him immediately. Because he is a useless waste with no survival value."
Morrin stared at Umbridge:
"Your current teaching method is mass-producing waste. This severely damages the 'market competitiveness' of Hogwarts graduates. As a School Governor, I express my...'serious concern' regarding this."
Umbridge was so angry that the flesh on her face was trembling.
She wanted to deduct points, she wanted to give Morrindetention.
But she didn't dare.
Because Morrin was talking about 'the market' and 'employment', not 'Lord Voldemort' or 'rebellion'.
This was pure capitalist logic, leaving her political logic of 'preventing student rebellion' with no opening to attack.
"This... this is a decision by the Ministry of Education!" Umbridge stammered for a long time, only managing that one sentence.
"The Ministry of Education doesn't control employment rates."
Morrin sneered and sat back down.
"Continue reading your book, Professor. But to all the students present..."
Morrin didn't look at Umbridge, but instead looked at the entire class:
"...If you don't want to be unemployed after graduation, or die in some dark corner, I suggest you find another way to learn some real stuff."
The bell rang.
Morrin was the first to walk out of the classroom.
Harry chased after him.
"Morrin!" Harry called out.
"What?" Morrin stopped.
"Were you... speaking up for me just now?" Harry asked, feeling a bit awkward. He hadn't expected Morrin to confront Umbridge head-on.
Chapter 97 The Blood-stained Quill
"Don't flatter yourself, Potter."
Morrin straightened his cuffs, his gaze indifferent:
"I am merely maintaining 'product quality'. As for you..."
Morrin glanced at Harry's hand; it was to be carved into tonight.
"...When you go to detention tonight, remember to endure it. Don't let her grasp any more leverage. That toad holds the Ministry of Magic's ultimate authority."
"Also."
Morrin leaned closer to Harry, his voice dropping:
"If you have time, go check out the Room of Requirementon the eighth floor. It's a good place for 'extracurricular tutoring'. I imagine you wouldn't want to really become a waste who only knows how to recite books, would you?"
Having said that, Morrin left with Malfoy.
Harry stood in the corridor, watching Morrin's retreating figure, then looked at Hermione beside him.
"He's right." Hermione's gaze was firm, "We cannot count on Umbridge anymore. We have to learn for ourselves."
"Then let's do it!" Ron waved his fist, "Let's call it... D.A.?"
Meanwhile, in the shadows, Morrin heard their conversation, a satisfied smile curling the corner of his lips.
The seed had been planted.
Next, it was just a matter of waiting for this "resistance army" to grow, becoming the best chess piece he could use to check the Ministry of Magic and deplete the Death Eaters.
"System." Morrin murmured in his heart.
[Current Draw Count: 5]
"It's time to prepare some 'teaching materials' for this group of little ones."
...
Rainy night.
The stone walls of Hogwarts Castle trembled in the storm.
Inside the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor's office, the air was sickeningly sweet, a mixture of dried flowers, plates with kitten patterns, and stale perfume.
"I must not tell lies."
Harry Potter sat before that small table covered with a pink lace tablecloth, his right hand trembling as he gripped that black, sharp quill.
He had no ink.
As he wrote that line on the parchment, a burning, sharp pain shot across the back of his hand.
Blood seeped from beneath his skin, and on the paper, the red handwriting was as vivid as a scar.
Dolores Umbridge sat behind her desk, drinking tea with too many sugar cubes added, a satisfied smile hanging on her face.
"Write it again, Mr. Potter. Until this line... is deeply imprinted in your mind."
...
Midnight, the corridor.
When Harry finally walked out of that pink-filled torture chamber, his right hand was numb from trembling. On the back of his hand, the words "I must not tell lies" were red, swollen, and inflamed, still oozing beads of blood.
He didn't want to return to the Gryffindor common room; he didn't want Ron and Hermione to see this.
He felt it was a humiliation, a deep sense of shame born from his inability to resist.
He walked aimlessly to a secluded corridor on the fourth floor, leaning against a cold stone pillar, pressing his injured hand against the stone, trying to alleviate that burning sensation.
"A very primitive method of corporal punishment."
A low, indifferent voice came from the shadows.
Harry jerked his hand behind his back, turning around vigilantly.
Morrin White was standing by a huge...
"Morrin..." Harry gritted his teeth, "Are you here to watch a joke?"
"I am here to 'inspect the injury'."
Morrin closed his pocket watch and walked over.
Moonlight spilled onto his exquisite black velvet loungewear, making him look completely out of place in this wretched night.
"Take your hand out." Morrin commanded.
"No." Harry retreated stubbornly.
"Don't act like a child, Potter." Morrin frowned, that unquestionable aura of a superior instantly overwhelming Harry's persistence, "If that wound is infected with Dark Arts toxins, your hand will be ruined. A savior with a ruined hand is worthless to me."
Harry stood in a stalemate for a few seconds, then finally extended his right hand dejectedly.
Morrin lifted Harry's hand, carefully examining the bloody handwriting by the moonlight.
[True Sight]—Microscopic analysis.
"A specially crafted Dark Arts quill." Morrin's fingertips lightly brushed the edge of the wound without touching the flesh, "It uses the user's blood as ink, and carries a mild 'Curse of Pain' and'Scar Solidification' effect."
"This kind of thing was very popular in the interrogation rooms of Dark Wizards during the Middle Ages."
Morrin lifted his eyelids, looking into Harry's green eyes filled with anger and humiliation:
"You just let her carve it like that?"
"What can I do?" Harry pulled his hand back angrily, "She is a Professor! A Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic! If I resist, she will expel me!"
"Resistance does not necessarily require drawing your wand to her face."
Morrin pulled a small, pale yellow jar from his pocket and tossed it to Harry.
"What is this?"
"Murtlap Tentacle Essence (Purified Version)." Morrin said indifferently, "A new product from the White Potion Factory. It's three times more effective than Madam Pomfrey's version. Apply it, and the pain will disappear, and it won't leave a scar."
Harry held the cold jar, his heart filled with mixed emotions.
"How much?" He asked.
"Free. As a'sample'."
Morrin turned around, looking at the rainstorm outside the window.
"Harry, remember this pain."
Morrin's voice became profound:
"The reason Umbridge dares to treat you this way is not because of how strong she is, but because she holds the 'rules' in her hand. She uses rules to commit violence."
"To defeat her, shouting and courage alone are useless. You need... another kind of power."
"What kind of power?"
"The power to invalidate the rules."
Morrin turned his head back, a meaningful arc curling the corner of his lips:
"For instance, if this quill appeared on the front page of tomorrow's The Daily Prophet with the headline 'Ministry of Magic Official Abuses Underage Wizard: Bloody Corporal Punishment or Perverted Satisfaction?'..."
Harry was stunned.
"This... will this work? Fudge will suppress it."
"Fudge can suppress the Ministry of Magic, but he cannot suppress public opinion, and he certainly cannot suppress my newspaper."
Morrin walked up to Harry and pulled out an exquisite, miniature alchemical camera from his robe, only the size of a matchbox.
"Take pictures, Harry."
Morrin stuffed the camera into Harry's uninjured left hand.
"The next time she punishes you, take pictures secretly. Capture your bleeding hand and her smug face, take pictures of both."
"When you have collected enough evidence, give them to me."
Cold light flashed in Morrin's eyes:
"I will let her know what is called social death."
Harry gripped the miniature camera, sweat from his palms soaking the metal casing.
He suddenly felt that compared to Umbridge's Dark Artsquill, Morrin's method of using everything as a weapon was even more terrifying.
But it was also more... satisfying.
"I will." Harry said in a low voice.
...
Slytherin common room, late at night.
When Morrin returned to the dungeons, the common room was still brightly lit.
The atmosphere was a bit off.
Draco Malfoy was standing in front of the fireplace, a small silver badge pinned to his chest.
A capital "I", Inquisitorial Squad.
Beside him, Goyle, Crabbe, and Pansy Parkinson were also wearing the same badge.
It was issued by Umbridge.
She was recruiting students as her informants, granting them the privilege to deduct points.
Chapter 98: The Forbidden "Dog", The Kicked-out Spy
Seeing Morrin enter, Malfoy covered his badge with a somewhat guilty conscience.
"Good evening, Morrin," Malfoy said with a dry laugh.
Morrin did not respond.
He walked straight up to Malfoy, reached out, and lightly flicked the silver badge with his fingertip.
"Ding."
The crisp sound echoed in the deathly silent common room.
"What is this, Draco?" Morrin asked, knowing full well what it was.
"Uh... Professor Umbridge gave it to me," Malfoystammered an explanation. "She said if we join the 'Inquisitorial Squad,' we can help her manage the school and even dock points from Gryffindor..."
"So, you agreed?"
Morrin's voice was very soft, yet it made Malfoy feel a sense of suffocation.
"I thought... it was an opportunity..." Malfoy's voice grew smaller and smaller.
"An opportunity?"
Morrin suddenly laughed.
He abruptly ripped the badge off Malfoy's chest.
"Rippp—"
The expensive velvet robes were torn, leaving a gap.
"This is called being a dog."
Morrin threw the badge onto the floor and stepped on it hard with his black leather shoe, grinding it until the silver badge was deformed and twisted.
"I told you all."
Morrin looked up, his eyes, which had now turned into vertical pupils, scanned everyone in the common room.
Those students who had originally wanted to join the squad lowered their heads one after another, not daring to meet his gaze.
"Slytherins are snakes, proud predators."
"We don't act as dogs for anyone. Especially not for that pink toad."
Morrin walked to the fireplace, his back to the crowd:
"From today onwards, whoever dares to wear this badge can get out of Slytherin."
"The White Family's scholarships, the Nimbus broomstick sponsorships, and future employment recommendation letters... all of them will be canceled."
Malfoy's face turned white with fright.
He knew all too well what this meant.
Without Morrin, even though he would still be a Malfoy, his status in the school would plummet.
"I was wrong! Morrin!" Malfoy immediately stated his position, kicking the badge on the floor into the fireplace. "I'll go quit right now! That's trash! I don't care about working for that woman!"
Pansy and the others also took off their badges and threw them far away.
"Very good."
Morrin turned around, looking with satisfaction at this group of "tamed" elites.
"What we want to be is not her lackeys, but..."
Morrin pulled a stack of parchment from his pocket and threw it on the table.
"...but to establish our own 'Disciplinary Committee'."
"We will use our own methods to maintain 'order' at Hogwarts. Of course, this order is defined by me."
"Draco, you will be the captain."
Malfoy was overjoyed: "Yes! Boss!"
Morrin looked out the window at the pitch-black lake water.
Umbridge wants to use power to divide the students?
Then he would use even more powerful capital and violence to forge Slytherin into a solid block of iron.
"As for that D.A. Army..."
Morrin thought of Harry.
"Let them make a scene. Only the harder they cause trouble will Umbridge become more crazed. And the more crazed she gets..."
"...the closer she is to destruction."
"Next week is the first meeting," Morrin calculated in his heart. "It's time for me to go send some 'teaching materials'."
In October,
A Hogsmeade weekend.
The late autumn cold wind swirled dead leaves, raging through the streets of Hogsmeade village.
Compared to the warm and bustling Three Broomstickspub, the Hog's Head Inn, located on the edge of the village, appeared particularly dilapidated and gloomy.
The rickety wooden sign depicted a severed wild boar's head, dripping with blood.
The interior of the pub was dimly lit, with grime-covered windows making it look like a cellar.
The air was thick with a strong smell of goat and the sour stench of fermented old beer.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting nervously at a cobbled-together table.
And in front of them, more than twenty students from the other three houses, excluding Slytherin, were crowded together.
"Um... hello everyone," Hermione began nervously. "We are here to discuss... the issue of self-studying Defense Against the Dark Arts. Because as everyone knows, that woman Umbridge can't teach us anything."
Whispers broke out among the crowd.
Zacharias Smith of Hufflepuff folded his arms, looking skeptical: "You say that person is back, but what evidence is there? Other than Potter's word?"
"Cedric can prove it too!" Harry stood up angrily.
"No one saw it," Smith sneered.
Ding-ling.
The grease-stained door of the pub was pushed open.
The wind chime made a raspy sound, interrupting the argument inside.
Everyone turned to look.
In this place where there were no other customers besides a few weirdos with their faces wrapped in bandages, an out-of-place figure walked in.
Morrin White.
He wore a well-tailored deep gray cashmere coat and black leather gloves, his black ironwood wand tapping a crisp rhythm on the dirty floor.
Behind him, there was no Malfoy or bodyguards. He was alone.
"Morrin?!" Ron cried out in alarm. "Are you here to snitch?"
The other students immediately gripped their wands nervously. The appearance of the Slytherin "Demon" here was definitely not a good omen.
"Snitch?"
Morrin paid no heed to those hostile gazes.
He looked with distaste at a dust-covered chair and did not sit down, but instead walked to the bar.
Behind the bar, a long-bearded, ill-tempered-looking old man, Aberforth Dumbledore, was staring at him warily.
"A bottle of butterbeer. Sealed packaging, don't pour it into a glass," Morrin threw out a Galleon. "Keep the change."
After getting the drink, Morrin turned around to face the group of nervous students.
"If I were to snitch, Umbridge would have already burst in with Aurors by now."
Morrin walked to the periphery of the crowd, his gaze scanning every corner of the pub like a searchlight.
"Your sense of secrecy is like a sieve. Discussing 'rebellion' in a place full of spies and informants?"
Morrin shook his head and suddenly raised his cane, pointing it sharply at a Witch in the corner who was wrapped in dirty bandages and pretending to sleep.
"You over there, have you heard enough?"
The Witch froze.
"Willy Widdershins," Morrin called out the name coldly. "An informant who agreed to monitor students for the Ministry of Magic in exchange for escaping punishment for selling fake cauldrons."
"Expelliarmus."
There was no red light; Morrin just gave a casual wave.
The bandages on the "Witch" exploded, revealing the true face of a wretched man inside.
He tried to flee in terror.
"Get out."
Morrin tapped his cane.
An invisible wave of gravity directly knocked Widdershins flying, smashing through the pub door and landing on the mud outside.
"Ah—!" Widdershins shrieked as he scrambled up and fled, crawling and rolling away.
The pub fell into a dead silence.
The students looked at this scene in stunned silence.
They hadn't noticed at all that someone was eavesdropping in that corner just now.
Chapter 99: Have
"Now, the environment is a little cleaner."
Morrin walked back and stood beside Harry.
That powerful aura instantly made him the focus of the scene, as if he were the one in charge here.
"Are you going to join us?" Hermione asked tentatively.
"No." Morrin refused decisively. "I have no interest in such childish games. But I am very interested in the 'market demand' behind this."
Morrin pulled a thick booklet from his coat pocket and threw it on the table.
"What is this?" Neville leaned over curiously.
"White Alchemy Industries: Defensive Equipment Catalog (Student Special Edition)."
Morrin pointed to the booklet:
"Since you plan to self-study Defense Against the Dark Arts, you need textbooks, a venue, and targets for practice."
"This booklet contains a complete set of solutions: automatic dodging dummies, shields that detect spell intensity, and..."
Morrin glanced at Harry:
"...and various first-aid kits against jinxes."
"Do you want to risk your lives against Death Eaters empty-handed, or do you want to be armed to the teeth before you go?"
Smith spoke up again: "Do we have to pay for these? You are profiteering from the war!"
"That's right, this is war profiteering." Morrin admitted calmly. "You can choose not to buy them. And then, when facing Killing Curses, use your glib tongue to block them."
Smith shut up.
"I will give you a 30% discount," Morrin said to Harry, "as a venture capital investment in your'spirit of resistance'."
"Also, a piece of advice."
Morrin lowered his voice, his gaze sweeping over everyone present:
"When signing this list, remember to add an 'Anti-Pride Jinx'. If anyone snitches, they will grow boils on their face that can never be washed off."
"Hermione is already planning to do that," Harry said in surprise.
"Then make it even harsher," Morrin sneered. "Because Umbridge will soon know about today's gathering. Although I drove Willy Widdershins away, he must have heard the first half."
"Tomorrow morning, you will see a new 'Educational Decree'."
Morrin adjusted his gloves, preparing to leave.
"Educational Decree?"
"Yes. Educational Decree Number Twenty-four." Morrinwalked to the door and looked back. "'No student organization, society, or group shall meet without the approval of the High Inquisitor.'"
"Then what do we do?" Ginny asked worriedly.
"Then go underground."
Morrin pointed in the direction of the Castle, specifically towards the eighth floor:
"Some rooms only appear when you truly need them. That is where you should go, not this drafty, broken-down pub."
After saying this, Morrin pushed open the broken door and walked into the cold wind.
...
The next day, the Hogwarts notice board.
Just as Morrin expected.
A huge notice with a pink border was posted on the notice board.
[Educational Decree Number Twenty-four]
[Effective immediately, all student organizations, societies, groups, and clubs are dissolved.]
[Any gathering not approved by the High Inquisitor will be considered a violation of discipline, and participants will be expelled.]
Students gathered around the notice board, discussing angrily.
Harry looked at the notice, his fists clenched tightly.
"He was right," Harry said to Hermione. "Umbridge is declaring war."
"Then we will fight back," Hermione gritted her teeth. "We will go find that room. The Room of Requirement."
Meanwhile, in the shadows not far away.
Morrin White was passing by with Malfoy.
"Morrin, does that Educational Decree also include our 'Slytherin Disciplinary Committee'?" Malfoy asked worriedly.
"Of course it does," Morrin said indifferently.
"Then are we going to dissolve?"
"Dissolve?"
Morrin stopped walking, looked at the stupid notice, and a mocking smile curled at the corner of his mouth.
"Draco, remember."
"Rules are for the weak to follow. For the strong, rules are merely suggestions."
"Go tell Umbridge that we want to apply to form a'Special Mutual Aid Group' for the purpose of 'helping the Professor maintain school order'."
"Also, send a generous gift—for example, a 5% dividend share from my Potion factory."
Morrin patted Malfoy on the shoulder:
"She will approve it. Because greedy people can never refuse the scent of Galleons."
"As for that D.A. army..."
Morrin watched the backs of Harry and the others as they left.
"Let them grow wildly underground. When Umbridge is overwhelmed and exhausted by this group of 'weeds'..."
"...that will be the time when no one can bother me, even if I'm drinking tea in the Principal's office."
Late October.
In the corridor on the eighth floor of Hogwarts, opposite the tapestry depicting a Troll beating Barnabas the Barmy, there used to be a bare wall.
But today, it was very lively here.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were leading more than twenty students, staring nervously at that wall.
Neville had just walked in front of the wall three times, muttering, "We need a place to practice martial arts."
Click.
A smooth door appeared on the wall.
"It worked!" Hermione shouted excitedly. "The Room of Requirement! Morrin didn't lie to us!"
The students filed in.
The room was spacious and bright, filled with various Defense Against the Dark Arts books, mats, and even Sneakoscopes and lie detectors.
"Awesome!" Ron picked up a mat and threw it at Harry. "Come on, Harry! Teach us how to blast Umbridge away!"
The first official meeting of the D.A. began in a lively atmosphere.
...
Meanwhile, on the other side of the wall, or rather, in another space of the room.
Morrin White was standing in front of the same wall.
But he was not in a hurry to go in.
He was waiting.
Until he confirmed that all D.A. members had gone in and the door had disappeared, he stepped forward slowly.
"What they wanted was a 'practice arena'," Morrin said to himself, looking at the blank wall. "But what I need is a 'place to hide things'."
Morrin closed his eyes and walked past that section of the wall three times.
He muttered in his heart: "I need a place to hide the contraband, junk, and secrets of generations of students."
Rumble.
The door appeared again.
But this door looked older and more mottled.
Morrin pushed the door and entered.
The scene was completely different.
This was not a spacious practice arena, but a labyrinth made of miscellaneous items.
Mountains of broken furniture, thousands of books, winged catapults, fanged frisbees, and all kinds of contraband hidden by students over the centuries.
This was the "Treasure Room," another form of the Room of Requirement.
"Truly a giant… garbage dump."
Morrin used his cane to disdainfully push aside a broken-legged chair and activated [True Sight].
In this chaotic ocean of magic, he was searching for that specific frequency, an aura that was ancient, wise, but also polluted by the Dark Arts.
Chapter 100: Establishing a Channel, Appropriate Additional Investment
He walked through the aisle piled with chairs, passing by a huge, ugly bust with a wig hanging on it.
Finally, he stopped in front of a rickety cabinet.
On top of the cabinet sat a rusty, unassuming crown.
It was inlaid with gems, and although dusty, it still exuded an arrogant aura.
The diadem of ravenclaw.
"Found it."
Morrin did not pick it up directly with his hands.
He knew that this thing was not just a Horcrux, but a trap full of temptation.
As long as one put it on, one would hear the whispers of Lord Voldemort.
[Scan Target]: diadem of ravenclaw
[Status]: Horcrux (dormant)
[Characteristics]: Wisdom amplification (corrupted), Soul parasitism.
"Wisdom..." Morrin shook his head. "Tom, using such a good thing to make a Horcrux is truly a waste of heaven's gifts."
He took out the container that already held the [Locket energy (purified)], and then took out a new alchemy box.
"Containment."
Morrin waved his wand, and the diadem flew into the box automatically, locked by runes.
"With this, the two Horcruxes in Hogwarts—the diary and the diadem—have both been dealt with."
Morrin put away the box with satisfaction.
He looked around, and his gaze suddenly fell on the huge black cabinet next to him.
The vanishing cabinet.
That was the passage to the Borgin and Burkes Shop.
It was the same cabinet that Draco Malfoy used in the original story to let the Death Eaters into the school.
"Since I'm here, I might as well fix it."
Morrin walked over, and the [Gate of Truth] "directional transmission circuit" was activated.
He did not fully repair it, as that would be too dangerous, but instead repaired the item transmission function within it and installed a [White Security · One-way Valve] on it.
"In the future, if I want to bring in some 'contraband' from Knockturn Alley, this will be a good smuggling channel."
After finishing all this, Morrin walked out of the Room of Requirement.
...
Outside the corridor.
Just as Morrin came out, the door on the wall changed again.
Harry, sweating profusely, led the D.A. members out.
They all looked excited; clearly, the training just now had been a success.
"Morrin?" Harry saw Morrin standing at the door and was startled, subconsciously blocking the door behind him. "You... have you been here the whole time?"
"I was just passing by."
Morrin straightened his cuffs, his gaze sweeping over the group of passionate students.
"How was the practice? Mr. savior?"
"Very... very good." Harry felt a bit guilty; after all, this was an unauthorized gathering. "Everyone has learned..."
"Expelliarmus?"
Morrin glanced at Neville beside him, who was waving his wand excitedly, almost poking Ginny in the eye.
"If you expect to use 'Expelliarmus' to deal with Avada Kedavra, then I suggest you buy yourselves a nice cemetery plot first."
"What do you mean?" Ron said indignantly. "Harrydefeated You-Know-Who with Expelliarmus!"
"That was luck, Weasley," Morrin said coldly. "Luck is not reproducible."
He walked up to Harry and reached out to correct Harry's wand-holding posture.
"Your wrists are too stiff, Harry. If you encounter a real Dark wizard..."
Morrin suddenly drew his wand.
The movement was as fast as lightning.
"Protego."
A transparent barrier instantly appeared in front of Harry.
Immediately after, Morrin's wand tapped lightly.
Bang!
A silent, repulsion-effect magic beam hit the barrier, knocking Harry and his shield back three steps.
"Reaction is too slow." Morrin withdrew his wand.
Harry looked at Morrin in shock.
In that instant just now, he hadn't even seen Morrin's movement clearly.
"This is real combat, Harry," Morrin said indifferently. "The enemy won't wait for you to count one, two, three. They will ambush, use silent spells, and use Dark Arts you've never seen before."
"If you really want to survive..."
Morrin took a thin booklet from his pocket and threw it to Hermione.
"...then memorize this 'White Security · Real Combat Crash Course Manual'. It contains twenty of the most practical life-saving spells. You don't need beautiful posture; you only need to be fast, accurate, and ruthless."
Hermione took the booklet, flipped through a few pages, and her eyes widened: "These... are these all high-level techniques for Defense Against the Dark Arts? There are even some... offensive spells?"
"The best defense is offense."
Morrin turned and left.
"Practice well. Don't get caught by Umbridge. If you get caught..."
Morrin's voice drifted from the end of the corridor:
"...remember not to give me up as your 'teaching material supplier'. I don't want to go drink tea with that toad."
Harry gripped his wand, looking at the booklet in his hand.
Although Morrin's words were harsh, he had to admit that the things in this booklet were ten thousand times more useful than Umbridge's textbook.
"Whose side is he on?" Neville asked in a low voice.
"He is on his own side," Harry took a deep breath. "But at least for now... his stuff can save lives."
...
Dungeon, Slytherin Common Room.
When Morrin returned to the dungeon, Malfoy was proudly showing off their new badges [Inquisitorial Squad] to a group of people.
Yes, although Morrin forbade them from being dogs, he allowed them to "disguise" themselves.
The so-called "Discipline Committee", the name registered with Umbridge, was the "Inquisitorial Squad".
This is called acting in compliance while secretly violating.
"Morrin!" Malfoy ran over. "Umbridge just gave us special privileges! We can deduct points! I just deducted fifty points from Potter! Just because his shoelaces weren't tied in the corridor!"
"Childish."
Morrin sat back on the sofa and took out a bottle of red wine.
"Deducting points is just a child's game. Draco, I want you to do some real work."
"What?"
"Umbridge is trying to pass a new Educational Decree: She wants to inspect all letters and packages. She is comprehensively regulating Hogwarts' communication channels."
Morrin swirled his wine glass:
"This will affect my business. My orders, my intelligence network, cannot be monitored by that toad."
"So?" Malfoy asked.
"So, I want you to 'cooperate' with her."
A glimmer of cunning flashed in Morrin's eyes:
"Go tell her you found that some people are passing contraband through Hagrid's hut. Guide her to investigate Hagrid."
"Why Hagrid?" Malfoy was puzzled.
"Because Hagrid is an uncontrollable variable. Letting him fight with Umbridge will attract firepower."
Morrin sneered:
"Besides, Hagrid recently brought back a big guy. If Umbridge runs into that big guy..."
"...I think that scene will be beautiful."
"This semester's final exam..." Morrin looked out the window, "is the Battle of the Department of Mysteries."
"The prophecy orb."
"That is the thing Lord Voldemort wants most. It is also the piece of intelligence I... want to get my hands on the most."