"Billy Stubbs's rabbit… Yeah, Tom said he didn't do it, and honestly, I don't see how he could've. Still, rabbits don't just hang themselves from the rafters, do they?"
"No, they don't," Dumbledore said quietly.
"But I'll be damned if I can figure out how he got up there to do it. All I know is, he'd had a row with Billy the day before. And then later, " Mrs. Cole took another deep swig of gin, spilling a bit down her chin this time. "That summer outing, we do it every year, take them out to the countryside or the seaside, after that, Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop were never quite right again. We asked, and all they'd say was that they'd gone into a cave with Tom Riddle. Tom swore it was just an adventure, but something happened in there, I'm sure of it. And there were so many strange little things…"
She looked at Dumbledore again. Her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes were sharp.
"I think most people here will be glad to see him leave."
"I'm sure you understand, we won't be keeping him at school all year," said Dumbledore. "He'll return here during summer holidays."
"Oh, that's fine. Better than having your nose broken with a rusty poker," said Mrs. Cole with a tipsy hiccup. She stood, and to Harry's surprise, though the bottle of gin was now more than two-thirds empty, her steps were steady. "I suppose you'd like to meet him now?"
"Very much," said Dumbledore, rising too.
Mrs. Cole led him out of the office and up a stone staircase, barking orders and scolding children and staff along the way. Harry saw the orphans dressed in identical gray uniforms. They looked clean and well-fed, but the atmosphere in the place was undeniably bleak.
"Here we are," said Mrs. Cole. They had reached a landing on the third floor and turned into a long corridor. She stopped outside the first door and knocked twice before entering.
"Tom? Someone's here to see you. This is Mr. Dumberton, oh, sorry, Dumbledore. He's come to tell you, well, I'll let him explain."
Harry followed Dumbledore into the room, and Mrs. Cole shut the door behind them. It was a small, bare room with a metal bed and an old wardrobe. A boy sat on the bed with a book in his lap, long legs stretched out in front of him.
There was no sign of the Gaunt family in Tom Riddle's face. Merope's wish had come true: he looked exactly like the handsome Muggle father who had abandoned her. Tall for eleven, with dark hair and pale skin, Tom narrowed his eyes at Dumbledore's eccentric appearance. No one spoke for a moment.
"Hello, Tom," Dumbledore said, stepping forward and extending a hand.
The boy hesitated, then reached out to shake it. Dumbledore pulled a hard wooden chair over to sit beside him. The two now looked like a hospital visitor and his patient.
"I'm Professor Dumbledore."
"'Professor'?" Riddle repeated, his expression wary. "Like a doctor? Did she bring you to check on me?"
He jerked his head toward the door where Mrs. Cole had just exited.
"No, nothing like that," Dumbledore replied with a gentle smile.
"I don't believe you," said Riddle. "She wants someone to come and say there's something wrong with me, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"
The final words were shouted, loud and commanding. He said them like someone used to being obeyed. He glared at Dumbledore, eyes wide, intense. Dumbledore said nothing, just smiled calmly. After a few seconds, Riddle's expression relaxed, though his eyes remained cautious.
"Who are you?"
"I told you, I'm Professor Dumbledore. I teach at a school called Hogwarts, and I'm here to invite you to attend, if you want to."
The reaction was more intense than expected. Riddle leapt off the bed and backed away, furious.
"You can't fool me! You're from the asylum, aren't you? 'Professor,' ha! Well, I'm not going, understand? That old witch is the one who belongs in the loony bin! I didn't do anything to Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop! You can ask them yourself, they'll tell you!"
"I'm not from an asylum," said Dumbledore calmly. "I'm a teacher. And if you sit down and listen, I can tell you about Hogwarts. No one is going to force you, "
"I'd like to see someone try," Riddle said with a sneer.
"Hogwarts," Dumbledore continued, undeterred, "is a school for people with special abilities, "
"I'm not mad!"
"I know you're not. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It's a school of magic."
Silence. Riddle stood frozen, his face blank, but his eyes darted between Dumbledore's, searching for any hint of a lie.
"Magic?" he whispered.
"Yes," said Dumbledore.
"The things I can do, they're… magic?"
"What sort of things can you do?"
"All sorts," Riddle said in a low voice. A flush crept up his neck and into his hollow cheeks. He was visibly excited. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want without training. I can hurt people if I want to. I can make them suffer."
His legs trembled slightly. He stumbled back onto the bed, head bowed, staring at his hands as though in prayer.
"I always knew I was different," he murmured. "I knew I was special. I knew there was something…"
"You were right," said Dumbledore, his smile fading. He now looked at Riddle with sharp focus. "You are a wizard."
Riddle raised his head. A light of wild joy sparked in his eyes, but strangely, it didn't make him look more pleasant. It made his face look distorted, predatory.
"You're a wizard too?"
"Yes."
"Prove it," Riddle demanded, in the same imperious tone he'd used earlier.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.
"If, as I understand it, you agree to attend Hogwarts, "
"Of course I agree!"
"Then you'll address me as 'Professor' or 'sir.'"
Riddle's face stiffened for a moment. Then he abruptly switched to an unnaturally polite tone: "Sorry, sir. I mean, Professor. Could you please show me?"
Harry thought Dumbledore might refuse. He expected Dumbledore to say there'd be time enough for that at school, and that they were in a building full of Muggles, so discretion was vital. But to Harry's surprise, Dumbledore drew his wand from his coat pocket and flicked it toward the battered wardrobe in the corner.
It burst into flames.
Riddle jumped to his feet. Harry couldn't blame him for the terrified yell, everything he owned was likely in there. But just as he was about to confront Dumbledore, the fire vanished as quickly as it had appeared. The wardrobe stood untouched.
Riddle looked from the wardrobe to Dumbledore, then pointed greedily at the wand.
"Where can I get one of those?"
"You'll be given one in due time," said Dumbledore. "Although it sounds like there's something in your wardrobe that wants out."
Sure enough, a faint tapping sound came from within. For the first time, Riddle looked unsettled.
"Open it," said Dumbledore.
Riddle hesitated, then flung the door open. A few worn clothes hung on a rail. On the top shelf sat a small cardboard box, shaking and tapping as though something frantic were trapped inside.
"Take it down," Dumbledore said.
Riddle brought it down, looking confused.
"Is there something in that box you shouldn't have?" Dumbledore asked.
Riddle stared at him, eyes calculating.
"Yes, sir," he said finally in a flat voice.
"Open it."
Riddle did so and dumped the contents onto the bed without looking. Harry expected something dramatic, but instead saw an assortment of mundane objects, a yo-yo, a silver thimble, a dull harmonica. As soon as they left the box, they stopped moving and lay still.
"You will return these to their owners and apologize," said Dumbledore calmly, tucking his wand away. "And I will know if you don't. I must also warn you: Hogwarts does not tolerate theft."
Riddle showed no remorse. He stared coldly at Dumbledore, still evaluating him. Finally, he said in the same dry tone, "Understood, sir."
"At Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on, "we teach not only how to use magic but how to control it. The way you've used it before, I believe unintentionally, is not something we teach, nor something we allow. Letting your powers run wild is dangerous. You're not the first, and you won't be the last. But you must understand: students can be expelled, and the Ministry of Magic, yes, there is a Ministry, can punish serious offenses much more severely. Once you enter our world, you must obey our laws."
"Understood, sir," Riddle repeated.
It was hard to tell what he was really thinking. As he returned the stolen objects to the box, his expression was blank. When he finished, he turned sharply to Dumbledore and said, "I have no money."
"That's easily solved," said Dumbledore, pulling out a leather pouch. "Hogwarts has a fund for students who need help buying books and robes. Some of your books may need to be secondhand, but, "
"Where do I buy magic books?" Riddle interrupted, taking the pouch without a word of thanks and eyeing a fat gold Galleon closely.
"In Diagon Alley," said Dumbledore. "I brought your school supply list. I can help you get your things, "
"You're coming with me?" Riddle asked.
"I can, if, "
"I don't need you," Riddle cut in. "I'm used to doing things on my own. I've gone all over London by myself. So, how do I get to this Diagon Alley, sir?"
He caught Dumbledore's eye and added the last word hastily.
Harry thought Dumbledore would insist on going with him. But again, he was surprised. Dumbledore handed Riddle the envelope with the list and explained how to reach the Leaky Cauldron.
"You'll be able to see it even though Muggles, non-magical people, cannot. Ask for Tom, the innkeeper, it's easy to remember; he has the same name as you."
Riddle flinched, as if swatting away an annoying fly.
"You don't like the name 'Tom'?"
"There are too many Toms," Riddle muttered. Then, as if he couldn't hold it back: "Was my father a wizard? They told me he was also called Tom Riddle."
"I'm afraid I don't know," said Dumbledore gently.
"My mother couldn't have been. If she was, she wouldn't have died," Riddle said, more to himself than to Dumbledore. "So it had to be my father. Anyway, after I buy everything, when do I go to this Hogwarts?"
"All the details are on the second parchment inside the envelope," said Dumbledore. "You'll leave from King's Cross Station on September first. There's a train ticket in there as well."
Riddle nodded. Dumbledore stood and offered his hand again. As they shook, Riddle said, "I can talk to snakes. Found out on a school trip to the country, they find me, whisper to me. Is that normal for a wizard?"
Harry could tell he'd saved the strangest thing for last, hoping to shock Dumbledore.
"Very rare," Dumbledore replied after a pause, "but not unheard of."
His voice was casual, but his eyes watched Riddle closely. The boy and the man stood there, locked in a silent gaze. Then they released hands, and Dumbledore moved to the door.
"Goodbye, Tom. We'll see each other at Hogwarts."
"I think that's enough," said the white-haired Dumbledore beside Harry. Moments later, they were soaring through darkness again and landed softly back in the present-day office.
"Take a seat," Dumbledore said, settling beside Harry.
Harry sat, his mind still reeling from what he'd just seen. Anne sat beside them, equally stunned.
"He believed you faster than I did, when you told him he was a wizard," Harry said. "Hagrid had to practically drag me into it."
"Yes, Tom was eager to believe he was, how did he put it?, 'special,'" Dumbledore said.
"So, back then, you already knew?" Harry asked.
"That the boy I just met would grow into the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time?" said Dumbledore. "No. I didn't know. But I was certainly intrigued. When I returned to Hogwarts, I decided to keep a close watch on him, not just for his sake, but for others'."
He wasn't using magic like an ordinary young wizard who experiments clumsily and randomly. As you saw, he had already begun using magic to hurt, intimidate, punish, and control others. The rabbit that was found hanging from the rafters… and the story of those two children, tricked into a cave by him, make that perfectly clear. "I can make them hurt if I want to," he said...
"He's also a Parselmouth," Harry interjected.
"Yes," Dumbledore nodded. "A rare ability, often associated with Dark Magic, though we know that even great and good wizards have possessed it. In fact, the ability to speak with snakes isn't what concerns me most. What troubles me is the clear signs of cruelty, secrecy, and a thirst for dominance that he already displayed."
"Time's slipping away from us again," Dumbledore added, glancing toward the window, where the sky had deepened into darkness. "But before we part tonight, I want you to reflect on a few details from the scene we just witnessed. They will be crucial to the matters we'll discuss going forward."
"First, I'm sure you noticed how Riddle reacted when I mentioned that someone else had the same name as him, 'Tom.'"
Harry nodded.
"That shows us something important: he despised any connection that tied him to others, anything that made him seem ordinary. Even then, he craved distinction, wanted to stand alone, to be recognized and feared. Just a few short years after that conversation, he abandoned his name and forged the mask of 'Voldemort', a name behind which he hid for years."
"I'm sure you also noticed how confident and secretive Tom Riddle was, even then. He had no friends, and he didn't want help. He went to Diagon Alley alone. He insisted on doing everything by himself. The same is true of Voldemort as an adult. You'll hear many Death Eaters claiming they earned his trust, that they were the only ones who truly understood him. But it's all lies. Voldemort never had a friend, not one, and I believe he never wanted one."
"And lastly, this is important, Harry, I hope you weren't too tired to catch it, young Tom Riddle had a habit of collecting trophies. You saw the box in his room, full of stolen trinkets taken from children he bullied and hurt. They were tokens of his magical cruelty. Keep that magpie-like obsession in mind, it's going to matter more than you might think."
"Well, Harry, it's really time to get some sleep now."
"Wait, sir, just one last question," Harry said, eyes drifting toward Skoll. "Actually, Hermione wanted me to ask this… can we tell the Department of Magical Security about the Order of the Phoenix?"
"Is that why you haven't spoken to Anne Roland Reeve directly?" Skoll asked in his usual low, even tone.
"Yes," Harry said. "Last time, I only asked if we could tell her about the training we've been doing… but she doesn't know the Order exists. Hermione said if we're going to tell her anything, we should tell her everything. It would be better for both sides."
Skoll was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Yes. You can tell her. And for what it's worth, her uncle, Aaron Hall, is now a member of the Order. Mentioning that might help convince her."
Harry nodded and stood. As he headed for the door, something on a small table caught his eye.
"What is it, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, seeing him pause.
"I remember seeing a ring on that table last time, a ring you wore, the one that belonged to Marvolo Gaunt. But it's gone now." Harry looked around, puzzled. "Though honestly, I expected you'd still have a harmonica or something."
Dumbledore chuckled softly, peering at Harry over the top of his half-moon spectacles.
"Very observant, Harry. But the harmonica… was just a harmonica."
He waved Harry off with a cryptic smile, and Harry understood it was time to leave.
"Miss Granger thinks very carefully on your behalf," Dumbledore said once Harry was gone.
Anne rubbed her brow, half-smiling. "Yeah. I'm guessing she's still debating whether or not to drag me into all this mess."
Then she muttered to herself, half exasperated, half fond, "That idiot… doesn't she realize that from the moment I confessed my feelings to her, I meant I'd face whatever comes, by her side?"
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