The White Lord Professor at Hogwarts

It was still raining heavily outside the window, and the sky was as dark as ink, but the castle was bright and cheerful.The other humans in the school were happily attending the Halloween party, and the auditorium was decorated as usual with live bats.

The huge pumpkins Hagrid planted were carved into lanterns, big enough for three people to sit in them.People also rumored that Dumbledore had booked a skeleton dance troupe to entertain everyone.

"I'm sorry, Filius," Ricardo said with a smile to Flitwick, who was dragging him to the restaurant. "Once a word is said, it is hard to follow. I said I was going to attend the death anniversary party."

"My God, Ricardo, you've been a little... strange this term," Flitwick said in surprise. "I think I've met you less often than I've met my Headmaster."

"Some things are worth studying. They begin with crisis and continue with fun," Ricardo smiled without explaining, "By the way, has Lockhart visited you?"

It's okay not to say it, but his expression changed when he mentioned Flitwick: "This guy... Oh! I really don't know what he did! He actually threw away everything he learned at Hogwarts, and only had memories. Magic is extremely familiar!”

Ricardo said that it is common sense to forget everything you have learned after graduation...

"But there is another very magical thing," Flitwick thought for a while and said, "This guy seems to be cursed by something. He can indeed use magic spells, but he can only mobilize very little magic power. In addition to using memory, Magic, if you only use one or two of the others, your magic will be exhausted, and you may even faint."

"...Is this person cursed?" Ricardo couldn't help but wonder, "I can only use memory magic... Isn't this a great pain for a wizard?"

"Isn't that true?" Flitwick shook his head, "Especially with this guy's character... Also, he was considered a genuine Ravenclaw back then."

He looked outside the castle and saw that the sky was already darkening: "Well, man, I have to say goodbye to you with regret. You are not attending this Halloween party."

"Every gain must come with a loss." Ricardo didn't say much, said goodbye and walked back to the office.

On the table, Voldemort's version of the diary was placed there. Ricardo thought about it and wrote a few lines:

[Teacher, what do you think of these No. 17 spells? 】

[I think... your spell has no effect on my remnant soul, but if it is a complete soul, it will help the corruption of the soul. 】

【corrupt? 】

Ricardo thought for a moment and understood the meaning of Voldemort's remnant soul: in fact, the "corruption spell" Voldemort said was a spell that could make the soul quiet and peaceful.If it were a corruption spell, Cardo wouldn't dare to use it on Voldemort - he still had to research the best way to cast the spell in his remnant soul, so he couldn't be hurt.

【I see.In other words, among the seventeen spells, only five can work on Horcruxes, ten are guaranteed to work on intact souls, and the purpose of the remaining two is unclear at the moment, right? 】

[Yes, but these seventeen are not lethal. Jerry, you should study the ones with powerful lethality instead of this kind of spell that corrodes your soul. 】

[I will not use this kind of magic spell on you, Tutor Tom. 】

The journal looks like it has been stuck for a while.

[I'm glad you thought of how I felt, but you could go out and try it with a few Mudbloods.That's what I did back then. As long as I forget about it afterwards, everything can be solved. 】

After a month of communication, Voldemort already knew that he was lurking in Hogwarts, waiting for the right time to become his spy.

[Got it, Tutor Tom. 】

Ricardo agreed with his pen and curled his lips with a cold smile.

……

At seven o'clock Ricardo walked straight through the doorway that led to the crowded auditorium.

It was decorated with lights, candlelight was shining, and there were gold plates on the table. It was very tempting, but he still walked in the direction of the underground classroom.

The aisle leading to Nearly Headless Nick's party was also lit with candles, but the effect was far from pleasant: they were dark, thin little candles that flickered as they burned. The blue light looked eerie even when it shone on his face.

The temperature dropped with every step he took.

Ricardo tightened his clothes around himself, but his eyes were full of excitement.

At this time, he heard a sound, like a thousand fingernails scraping back and forth on a huge blackboard.This seems to be their music.

Sir Nicholas stood in a doorway, draped in a black velvet curtain.

"My dear friends," he said sadly, "welcome, welcome... I'm so glad you can come..."

He took off his feathered hat, bowed and invited them in.

The underground classroom was crowded with hundreds of milky-white, translucent figures, most of them wandering around the overcrowded dance floor, waltzing and playing music to the terrifying and trembling sounds of thirty musical saws. Saw's band was sitting on the stage covered in black cloth.

A thousand candles were lit in a chandelier overhead, giving off a midnight blue light.His breath formed a cloud of mist in front of him, as if he had walked into a refrigerator.

He walked slowly around the edge of the dance floor, past a group of sullen nuns, a ragged man in chains, and a fat monk.A Hufflepuff ghost, lively and cheerful, was chatting with a knight with an arrow stuck in his forehead.

Ricardo also saw a ghost covered in blood. He was as skinny as a stick, with straight eyes and silver blood stains on his body. Other ghosts were making room for him.

This guy... seems to be Slytherin's ghost, Bloody Barrow?

At the other end of the underground classroom is a long table, also covered with black velvet.He couldn't wait to step forward and immediately covered his nose. The smell was too unpleasant.

Huge chunks of rotting meat were served on handsome silver platters, dark, charred cakes were piled on large trays; there were also masses of maggot-infested haggis, and a slab of cheese covered in green hairs.

In the center of the table sat a huge gray cake in the shape of a tombstone, with tar-like icing spelling out the words:

Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington

Died October 1492, 10

Then a fat ghost approached the table, crouched down, and walked straight through the middle of the table, his mouth open, just right through a stinking salmon.

"If you put it through like this, can you taste it?" Ricardo suddenly thought.ask him.

"That's about it." The ghost said sadly, turned around and floated away.