Harry Potter and the Old Ones

"I was thinking, could you tell me something about Tom Riddle? He was an orphan right from birth, right?" After three rounds of drinking, Dumbledore was still firm, looking at his cheeks flushed with a smile. Mrs Cole.

"Oh... yes, you must want to know about his past, it's very, very normal..." Mrs. Kohler said vaguely, and then poured some more wine and drank. , "I, I remember it very well...because I just got here to work...well...well, it was New Year's Eve, it was cold, it was snowing, you You know, it was a bad night, and there was a girl who wasn't much older than me and she struggled to get up our steps...she wasn't the first time we had this situation Yeah... we quickly opened the door, let her in, and about an hour later she gave birth to the baby, and another hour later, she died."

Mrs. Cole said with emotion, and then took another gulp of gin.

"Did she say anything before she died?" Dumbledore said. "For example, who is the father of the child?"

"Oh, yes, she said, she said to me 'I want him to look like Daddy', and indeed, she was right to think so, she wasn't very good-looking... Disrespectful, she A little ugly...and a little deformed...Her eyes...cough..." Seemingly aware of her gaffe, Mrs Cole said lightly. She coughed lightly, took a sip of her wine, and then continued, "Then she said she was going to name him Tom, for his father, Marvolo, for her father... very Funny, isn't it? We wonder if she's from the circus...then she says the kid's last name is Riddle, and she's dead.

"That's how we named him, and it seemed important to the poor girl, but no Tom or Marvolo or Riddle came to pick him up, and he lived in the orphanage ever since." said Mrs.

Almost unconsciously, Mrs. Cole gave herself another glass of wine, the two pink blushes on her cheekbones deepened, and she said, "He's an interesting boy."

"Yes, I think he is." Dumbledore said meaningfully.

"No, you don't understand what I mean...I mean...he's also a very interesting little baby, he hardly ever cried, and then, as he got older, he just It's...weird."

"What kind of strange method?" Dumbledore asked gently.

Mrs. Cole glanced at him, but there was nothing ambiguous about the intriguing glance.

"He will definitely come to your school to study, you just said?" Mrs. Cole did not continue to answer Dumbledore's question, but instead asked a question.

"Absolutely." Dumbledore guaranteed Mrs. Cole's vote.

"Will what I say affect him?" Mrs Cole asked again, "I mean...would what I say affect him going to your school? Like if I said You won't want him if he talks badly like this?"

"No." Dumbledore affirmed.

"Are you going to take him away anyway?" Mrs. Cole was obviously still worried.

"Yes, no matter what." Dumbledore said solemnly.

She squinted at him as if planning to trust him, and finally she decided to trust him, because her words suddenly blurted out--

"He scared the other kids."

"You mean he bullied others?" Dumbledore asked.

"I think he must be," said Mrs. Cole, frowning slightly, "but it's hard to catch him on the spot. Little accidents happen all the time - dirty and annoying things."

Dumbledore did not urge her.

Mrs Cole took another gulp of gin, her rosy cheeks turning redder.

"Stubbs' Rabbit—well, Tom said he didn't do it and I don't see how he did it, but still, the Rabbit wouldn't run up to the urn and hang himself, would he?" said Mrs.

"I don't think so, indeed." Dumbledore said quietly.

"But I'd be very surprised if I knew how he did it. All I know is that he and Billy had a fight before that day, and—" Mrs Cole took another gulp of wine. It spilled some onto her chin, "Towards the end of the summer -- we lead them out, you know, once a year, to the country or the sea -- well, Amy Benson and Dennis never walk behind. It was quiet and they got separated from us, so they followed Tom... Riddle into a cave... He said they were just exploring, but something must have happened there, I'm sure. Also Yes, well, there are many things, interesting things..."

She looked at Dumbledore again, staring at him calmly despite her red cheeks.

"I don't think many people will regret his past."

"You know, I'm sure we're not going to keep him at school forever," Dumbledore said. "He'll be back here, at least, every summer."

"Oh, of course, it's better than hitting the nose with a rusted iron rod." Mrs Cole burped slightly, though two-thirds of the gin was gone, Cole The lady still looked calm and composed, "I guess you definitely want to see him now?"

"Yes, very much," said Dumbledore, standing up too.

Mrs Cole then led Dumbledore out of her office and up a stone staircase.

Tiera followed along with the other little wizards.

"We're here," said Mrs. Cole, as they turned the second platform and stopped at the first doorway of the long corridor.

She knocked on the door twice and went in

"Tom? Good morning, there's a man to see you. This is Mr. Dumbleton—sorry, Dumbledore. He came to tell you—forget it, I'll let him speak," said Mrs Cole.

Harry and the two Dumbledores entered the room, and Mrs Cole closed the door in front of them. This is a room with nothing but a large wardrobe and iron bed frame.

A boy sat on a gray blanket, with his back stretched out in front of them, with a book.

There was no sign of haggard on Tom Liddell's face.

Merope fulfilled his dying wish:

He was a miniature version of his handsome father, tall at eleven, dark-haired and somewhat pale.

He was a little nervous when he saw the eccentric Dumbledore. They were silent for a while.

"I'm Professor Dumbledore." Dumbledore introduced himself.

"Professor?" repeated Riddle, looking wary. "Is it similar to 'Doctor'? What are you doing here? Did she ask you to see me?"

He pointed to the door where Mrs. Cole had stood.

"Oh, no, no," Dumbledore said, then laughed.

"I don't believe you," said Riddle. "She always likes to have someone come to see me, doesn't she? Tell me the truth!"

The last sentence was said very loudly, like a threat.

This is an imperative tone, it seems that he often speaks like this.

He stared at Dumbledore with wide eyes, but Dumbledore smiled only friendly. Riddle stopped staring at him after a few seconds, but was still wary.

"Who are you?" Tom Riddle asked.

"I've already introduced myself. I'm Professor Dumbledore, and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I'm here to invite you to our school—your new school, if you wish." Dumbledore asked.

Riddle's response was startling.

He jumped up from the bed, dodging Dumbledore far away, furious.

"Don't try to lie to me! You're from a mental hospital, aren't you? 'Professor'! Okay, but what if I don't go? That old cat should be in a mental hospital, I never bully a kid. Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop, you can ask them and they'll tell you!" Tom Riddle looked terrified.

"Haha, Voldemort was quite cute when he was a child." I don't know who laughed softly.

"Shh..." Tiera warned gently.

The person who spoke out clearly realized his gaffe, covered his mouth, and continued to watch quietly.

"I'm not from a mental hospital," Dumbledore explained patiently, "I'm a teacher, and if you can sit quietly, I'll tell you what Hogwarts is like...of course. Now, if you really don't want to go, we won't force--"

"I'll see what they can do to me," Riddle said with a sneer.

"Hogwarts," Dumbledore continued, as if he hadn't heard what Riddle had just said, "to take students with special abilities—"

"I'm not crazy!" Tom Riddle denied immediately.

"I know you're not crazy. Hogwarts is not a lunatic asylum, it's a school of magic," Dumbledore said.

Riddle was suddenly quiet, and he was stunned. His face was expressionless, but his eyes were shining, and he looked Dumbledore up and down, as if to test whether he was lying.

"Magic?" he repeated softly.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "Yes, magic."

"What I did, turned out to be magic?" Tom Riddle asked.

"Then little Tom, tell me, what will you do?" Dumbledore asked eagerly.

"Anything," Riddle said excitedly.

Excitement rose from his neck to his emaciated cheeks. "Those iron filings moved without me touching them. Those animals listen to me without training. If anyone messes with me, I can make them suffer. , like hurting them or something."

His back was shaking, he jumped forward and went back to the bed.

He looked at his hands and lowered his head as if praying.

"I know I'm different," he whispered to his own trembling fingers, "I know I'm special. Always, I know something's different."

"Oh, I think you're right," Dumbledore said, without a smile on his face, looking at Riddle intently, "You're a wizard."

Riddle looked up. His face was filled with longing:

There was happiness on it, but for some reason that didn't make him any better, on the contrary, his refined appearance looked a bit rude.

"Are you a wizard too?" Tom Riddle asked.

"Yes, I am," said Dumbledore.

"Prove it to me!" Tom Riddle said immediately, in his usual commanding tone, "Tell me the truth."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, "If I did, would you go to Hogwarts?"

"Of course!" said Tom Riddle.

"Then you will call me 'Professor' or 'Sir'." Dumbledore smiled like an old urchin.

Riddle's expression stiffened for a split second before he spoke, and he said in a polite voice, "I'm sorry, sir, I mean, could you, professor, show me...?"

Dumbledore smiled contentedly, then took out his wand from his jacket pocket, pointed at the dilapidated wardrobe in the corner, and tapped his wand inadvertently, and the wardrobe suddenly exploded into flames.

Riddle jumped up and yelled emotionally, all his stuff was in there.

But just as Riddle was screaming around Dumbledore, the flames suddenly disappeared, leaving the wardrobe intact.

Riddle stared at the closet and Dumbledore, then pointed at the wand with a wistful expression, "How can I get one like that?"

"At the right moment," said Dumbledore, "I think there's something here trying to get out of your closet."

To be exact, a fainting click came from there. For the first time, Riddle looked a little scared.

"Go and open the door." Dumbledore said calmly.

Riddle hesitated, then walked over and opened the closet door.

On the top floor, above a pile of tattered clothes, a small cardboard box vibrated and clicked like a few crazy mice were hiding inside.

"Open it," Dumbledore said.

Riddle took down the shaking box.

He looked tired.

"Is there anything in the box that you should have?" Dumbledore asked.

Riddle gave Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look, "I think so, sir."

he finally said in an emotionless tone.

Riddle took the lid off and dumped the contents on his bed without looking at it—

It's a mess of everyday little things:

A yo-yo, a silver thimble, a tarnished harmonica.

They stopped shaking after being poured out of the box, and lay quietly on the thin blanket.

"You must return them yourself and apologize." Dumbledore put his wand back on his shirt, and said calmly, "I will know if you did...and I must give you a warning: Hogg Watts has no tolerance for stealing."

Tom Riddle didn't look very embarrassed, he still stared at Dumbledore calmly with a calculating look.

At last he said in a dispassionate voice, "Yes, sir."

"At Hogwarts..." Dumbledore continued unhurriedly, "We not only teach you how to use magic, but how to control them... You were inadvertently, I'm sure , used your powers in a way that was neither taught nor permitted by the school...you are not the first and will not be the last to let your magic get out of hand... But you should know that Hogwarts can expel students, and the Ministry of Magic, yes, there is a department that punishes those who break the law more seriously... All new wizards have to accept that, go in Our world must obey our laws.”

"Yes, sir," said Riddle again.

It was impossible for Riddle to say what he was thinking.

With his face still expressionless, Riddle put the little stolen items back in the carton.

When he was done, he said to Dumbledore, "I don't have any money."

"It's easy," said Dumbledore, taking a leather purse from his pocket. "This is a Hogwarts fund for students who need a grant to buy books and robes. You'll have to buy textbooks and Some used stuff, but…”

"Where do I buy textbooks?" interrupted Riddle, who had taken the heavy purse from Dumbledore's hand without thanking him, and was now examining a fat Kim Galleon.

"In Diagon Alley..." Dumbledore said. "I've brought your list of books and equipment...I can help you find everything."

"You want to go with me?" Riddle raised his head and said.

"Of course, if you..." Dumbledore said.

"I don't need you!" Riddle said immediately. "I'm used to doing things by myself. I've been walking around Lundun all by myself. How do you get to Diagon Alley, sir?"

he added, staring into Dumbledore's eyes.

Dumbledore didn't insist any longer, but handed him the envelope with the list of things he needed to buy, and then, after carefully telling him how to get from the orphanage to the Broken Axe, he said, "You will You'll see, even though you're surrounded by Muggles—non-magical people, that—it doesn't matter. Ask the bartender for Tom's name—just remember that when he asks your name—"

Riddle moved impatiently, trying to drive away a pesky fly.

"Don't you like the name 'Tom'?" Dumbledore asked.

"There are many people named Tom." Riddle muttered impatiently.

Then, as if he couldn't help asking the question, as if he was suddenly disgusted with himself, he asked, "Is my father a wizard too? His name is Tom Riddle too, they told me."

"I'm afraid I don't know," Dumbledore said, his voice very soft.

"My mother couldn't have been a wizard, or she wouldn't have died," said Riddle, as if saying to himself, "it must be him, so—when I've learned all my magic—what am I? Time to go to that Hogwarts?"

"Everything is made clear on the second parchment in your envelope," Dumbledore said. "You're leaving from King's Cross in early September, and there's a ticket in there."

Riddle nodded. Dumbledore stood up and held out his hand again. Riddle took his hand and said, "I can talk to snakes. I found them on our outing - they found me, they talked to me. Is that normal for a wizard?"

"Parseltongue!"

I don't know who it is, and shouted out again excitedly.

"Shh..." Tiera said.

"It's not common," said Dumbledore, after a moment's hesitation, "but it's not that I've never heard of it."

His tone was a little casual, but he looked curiously at Riddle's face.

The man and boy stood staring at each other for a while.

Then, their hands were released, and Dumbledore walked to the door.

"Goodbye, Tom. I'll see you at Hogwarts."

After a few seconds, the surrounding scene turned into a cloud of indistinct black smoke.

The next moment, everyone appeared in the black magic classroom.

"That's good, classmates." Tiera stood on the podium and clapped her hands, attracting everyone's attention, "Our class is over."

"But...but it's only been less than half an hour!" Hermione asked.

Usually every black magic class is about two hours~www.NovelMTL.com~ The quality of the course is not the length of time, but what we can learn from it. "Tiera said softly," and I think, rather than letting you stay in the questioning class meaningless, I think it's better to let you go to the library and find the books on the fourth to seventh floors of the fifth bookshelf. Read Muggle psychology books and start preparing your Christmas papers. "

"Okay, class is over, class is over." Tiera waved her hand gently, the door of the black magic classroom opened without wind, and a cold wind blew in.

"Okay, let's go, let's go." Tiera said with a gentle smile, "It started snowing outside while we were still in the Pensieve. If you don't want to start your thesis, you can go play first. Snow, have a snowball fight, let's go, students, the class is over."

The little wizards looked at each other, and then one after another, they walked out of the dark magic classroom.

Wait until everyone walks out of the classroom, until only Tiera is left in the classroom.

Tiera waved her hand to close the door of the black magic classroom, and then slowly walked to the front of the Pensieve. She stirred the Pensieve with the fingers of her bone-stretched right hand, and picked up a bright silver thread from it.

Tiera picked up the silk thread, raised her head and opened her mouth.

"Guru—"

Tiera swallowed that memory into her belly.

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