Basil didn't recklessly attempt this hypothesis. There were people all around; if he lost control and went on a killing spree here, he would have no choice but to run away and settle in another world.
Moreover, he still had some doubts about Narcissa's swift submission.
In the secret chamber of Malfoy Manor, ten minutes ago.
After decisively expressing her submission, Narcissa asked cautiously, "Who are you?"
In her eyes, the Dark Lord would absolutely never have a "Master."
But judging by the speed with which he broke the Malfoy family's ancestral protective magic and this unfamiliar face...
Even if he wasn't Voldemort, he must be related to him, someone she and her son couldn't afford to offend.
And this person's Master could know everything in the Headmaster's office without alerting Dumbledore.
Even the Dark Lord couldn't do that.
Being lecherous wasn't a big problem.
On the contrary, it was a good thing.
She was afraid she had no value to exploit.
Although she was originally a Black, she was now a qualified Malfoy.
As a Malfoy, temporary honor or disgrace didn't matter; what mattered was the gain and loss of benefits.
If she climbed into that person's bed, wouldn't her status be even higher than this "Dark Lord" before her?
While Narcissa was mentally rationalizing, Riddle started circling the room.
"Me?" He walked to the bookshelf, his slender fingers brushing over the spines of the books. "You might be familiar with me. I was once right here."
"I arrived here even earlier than the late Lucius."
"Abraxas held me, carefully adorning me."
"A silver box and green silk were my entire world for decades."
"Ignored, untouched."
"I could only constantly replay past memories. Reviewing my short life."
"Until the disappearance of a familiar magnetic field woke me."
"I came into the arms of someone with a strange yet familiar magnetic field."
"He was cunning yet foolish, vicious yet naive, ignorant yet considered himself learned and noble."
"Just when I thought I would be stuck with this vulgar soul forever, the opportunity finally came."
"While sending himself to the guillotine, he sent me home."
"The only place I considered home."
"There I met the Master. Confronted the Dark Lord you spoke of, transformed in the Chamber of Secrets, and became independent."
"Deceived everyone, and truly descended into this world."
"Who do you say I am?"
"Mrs. Malfoy?"
"He?" Narcissa's lips trembled, her face pale. "No, the Master is at Hogwarts!"
"Master." Riddle turned around, scrutinizing the woman before him. "You mean..."
"Our mutual Master." Narcissa lowered her proud and beautiful head.
The lucky hope in her heart was completely shattered.
There was no need to guess the identity of the person before her. He was the Dark Lord's past, the diary that had been on the secret chamber's bookshelf all along.
That mysterious wizard who could subdue the Dark Lord and hide himself beside the White Lord.
Being at Hogwarts, he could undoubtedly take Draco's life at any time.
She only hoped now that the mysterious wizard—no, the Master—was truly lecherous.
Thus, under Riddle's surprised gaze, Narcissa, with a faint shyness like an eighteen-year-old girl, asked in a low but clear voice, "When can I serve in bed? For our Master."
Basil naturally couldn't hear Narcissa's inner thoughts.
He only knew that there wasn't a trace of deception in her words.
Basil's steps became lighter.
Draco Malfoy was the same.
After meeting Harry, a smile he didn't even notice appeared on the corner of his mouth.
Before leaving, he dropped a ruthless remark: "The final Quidditch Cup will definitely belong to Slytherin!"
Sirius nodded. "I also think my nephew is more outstanding."
But at the same time, he winked, indicating he actually supported Harry and Gryffindor more.
Then, both of them left the dormitory and the Gryffindor common room with brisk steps.
This surprised Basil a little.
In this world, the person Sirius cared about most should be the carbon copy of James—Harry.
He actually gave up time with Harry for the sake of the annoying Malfoy boy.
He acted more like Draco Malfoy's godfather now, rather than Harry's.
However, this wasn't what surprised Basil the most.
At dusk.
In the back garden, beside Aragog's corpse.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Basil looked at each other.
Including Hagrid, no one could squeeze out a single tear.
Even though Hagrid kept recalling the past: "I raised him from an egg. He was so small when he first hatched, only the size of a Pekingese. I kept him in a cupboard at school until... sigh..."
Self-reproach: "It's all—my fault—this—idiot! I told that villain how to get past Fluffy! I told him! He knew everything else, just didn't know that, and I had to tell him! Just for a dragon egg! Later I was even more negligent, forgetting my job as gamekeeper! Old Malfoy was in the Forbidden Forest the whole time! For a month! I noticed nothing! When they broke onto the grounds, I was drinking in the suitcase! I should be kicked out and live as a Muggle for the rest of my life!"
But Hagrid's sadness and self-blame could never reach a peak.
Just as tears were about to form, they vanished the next second.
Ron was the same.
Although he wasn't that afraid of spiders anymore.
Beside him, next to the newly dug pit, was Aragog's corpse.
Those eight milky-white eyes, two large curved pincers, and every bristle on its body were clearly visible.
In a non-combat state, without the atmosphere created by classmates charging forward together, his scalp should be tingling.
But the fear always fell short.
Afraid, but not much.
Only Basil knew the reason.
His [Inspire] talent was in effect.
Just like the aura of fear surrounding Dementors.
His body was like a funnel, sucking in all negative emotions defined as [Shadow] that could cause emotional breakdowns.
Basically, as long as he was at the funeral, don't expect any crying.
The awkward silence lasted for a long time.
Until the moon rose above the branches.
Basil spoke up: "How about we bury Aragog?"
"Otherwise, it's getting kind of hot."
At this moment, the sun had set, and the temperature difference between day and night in the Scottish Highlands was huge; it wasn't hot at all.
But it was an out.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione nodded.
Hagrid, immersed in his insufficient pain, also nodded.
He picked up the pink umbrella nearby and waved it.
The ten-foot-high pile of fresh earth rose up and fell heavily onto the dead spider, forming a smooth mound.
Harry wanted to say something but stopped.
Because the large pit beside the mound still existed.
The flowers scattered at the bottom indicated that Aragog's corpse should have gone into the pit before being covered with soil.
But Hagrid seemed to have skipped a step.
Basil quickly covered Harry's mouth, and Ron signaled with his eyes.
Hermione lightly waved her wand and cast a Silencing Charm.
Clearly, they all wanted to return to the castle now.
Surprisingly, Hagrid felt the same.
With his sadness fluctuating up and down, he just wanted to go back into the suitcase to find Norberta.
The funeral thus ended.