Hoare admired it for a moment before handing it back to Harry, knowing that Ron's eyes were fixed on him.

"What are you doing here so late?" Hoare crossed his arms and asked curiously.

"I..."

Harry had just started speaking when Ron pulled him back.

Hoare raised an eyebrow. A little secret?

"I'm just asking casually," Hoare said with a polite smile, waving the book in his hand as he prepared to leave.

"Henry!" Harry called softly to Hoare, "There's nothing you can't know. We're friends, and I trust you, just like Ron does."

He continued, "We're here to find information on Nicolas Flamel."

Hoare didn't expect Harry to actually share the secret with him. Hearing the name Nicolas Flamel, he roughly understood—they were investigating the Philosopher's Stone.

"I know Nicolas Flamel," Hoare said.

"You know everything..." Ron muttered, forgetting that the darkness amplified their hearing.

"Five Galleons," Hoare extended his right hand.

"Why don't you just live in a pile of money!" Ron exclaimed angrily.

Seeing Hoare's outstretched hand, Harry was relieved he had brought money with him today. He pulled five Gold-Galleons from his pocket and placed them in Hoare's palm.

Since Henry accepted the money, it meant he indeed had information.

"Nicolas Flamel is a famous alchemist, best known for his creation of the Philosopher's Stone. It's said he's over six hundred years old," Hoare relayed the information he had found. "Third shelf over there, second row, first book on the left."

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance at the mention of the Philosopher's Stone, nodding repeatedly before following Hoare's directions to find the book.

Hoare had finished the book in his hand and continued reading in order.

He estimated that in about three days and nights, he could finish reading all the books on exorcism in the restricted section.

"Henry, Henry..." Harry approached Hoare. "We've found the information we wanted. What are you looking for? Need any help?"

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Hoare shook his head. "I just like reading." He waved the colorful book in his hand. "Once you're done, you should go rest."

Harry nodded, pulling Ron along as they donned their cloaks and left.

The books in the restricted section were peculiar, some cursed, some sealed, and some even bit.

If Harry stayed to help, Ron would stay too. Although Ron had been a bit silly lately, he was still Hoare's brother.

Hoare didn't want Ron to get hurt.

After two more days, Hoare finally couldn't hold on any longer. He needed to go back and sleep on a soft bed, recharge, and then continue his efforts.

Although he hadn't found the exorcism spells yet, he had learned a bunch of random things. Some were quite interesting, like how to deal with a Boggart, how to make a Portkey, and what documents were needed to apply for a Knight Bus driver's license.

It was around nine o'clock at night when Hoare, yawning, walked down the corridor. He had thought the energy potion would keep him awake for several days, but while his body felt energized, his mind was exhausted.

He slowly made his way back to the dormitory.

Then, at a corner, he met a pair of emerald green eyes.

"Meow~"

"Mrs. Norris? Who did you see?"

In the distance, Filch's footsteps came running, echoing enthusiastically in the empty castle.

Hoare looked at Mrs. Norris, who was sitting calmly in front of him, flicking her fluffy tail. He quickly pulled out a piece of parchment to check for any secret passages nearby.

Sure enough, behind a knight's armor, there was a hidden passage.

Hoare glanced at Mrs. Norris and slowly, slowly backed away.

Mrs. Norris remained seated in the distance, her eyes fixed on Hoare as if to say, "Let's see what you're up to."

Then Hoare accelerated, sprinting into the narrow passageway at an unprecedented speed.

Even though Filch had gained a bit of magic, he was still the unlikable caretaker.

Hoare had heard that he recently attended a quick spell correspondence course and could occasionally wave a wand and cast a spell or two.

The passage door closed quietly, as if it had never been opened.

"Lumos."

A faint light glowed from Hoare's wand, illuminating his path.

The passage was exceptionally narrow, with nothing but a straight path ahead.

Hoare proceeded cautiously, and after about five or six minutes, he arrived at a door.

He gently pushed it open, and his eyes widened in surprise.

Hoare found himself on the second floor.

The door he had just opened was actually a painting, and the knight in the painting glared at Hoare fiercely, shouting, "There's someone here!!!"

Hoare looked around and realized he was in a completely unfamiliar place.

His previous drowsiness vanished instantly, replaced by intense curiosity.

He curiously approached the source of a sound, which seemed to be a woman singing.

Hogwarts was mysterious because you never knew if you would encounter a person, a painting, or a ghost.

At that moment, Hoare finally understood why he was unfamiliar with this place.

It was perfectly normal—how could a boy be familiar with the girls' bathroom?

Especially the infamous Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

"Ahhh!!!"

"Plop!"

Hoare's appearance clearly startled the timid Moaning Myrtle, who dove back into the toilet, her sobs echoing intermittently from within.

Moaning Myrtle's—girls' bathroom.

Clearly, Hoare had an idea.

He said loudly, "Sorry, ma'am, I'm just borrowing the sink."

Hoare approached the circular sink in the center of the bathroom.

Before the holidays, he had considered exploring the legendary Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets, and now, by coincidence, he had stumbled upon it.

Hoare's fingers brushed over the serpent-shaped carvings on the faucet. Even after a thousand years, the patterns were still vivid, as if they could bite his fingers off at any moment.

It required Parseltongue to open.

Hoare had a plan in mind. First, he would go back and get a good night's sleep, then learn a phrase of Parseltongue from Harry tomorrow.

Then he would return to open this mysterious chamber.

"Oh, you're still here, haven't you washed your hands yet?" Moaning Myrtle's head peeked out from the door crack.

Hoare pretended to shake his hands. "Oh, I'm done, thank you."

"Oh! Someone actually thanked poor Myrtle~" Moaning Myrtle blushed and couldn't help but float up.

After politely bidding farewell, Hoare returned to his dormitory.

He suddenly realized that even if he learned Parseltongue, it might not be enough to get in, considering the thousand-year-old Basilisk residing below.

Hoare needed to come up with a plan to lure the Basilisk away.

He thought of a "person" who might know, after all, he had seen the Basilisk's master, and he was his student.

The Bloody Baron.

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