Chapter 57: Late-night Conversation
Melvin sat by the furnace fire, watching the hound devouring its food from the food bowl, and fell silent.
“Snuffle snuffle…”
“Slurp slurp…”
Fang was burying its head in the food bowl, focused on enjoying dinner, which was meat soup made by Melvin from a few ingredients in the wooden house.
Take a strip of smoked meat from the wall, shred it into strips, take a few rock skin cakes frozen hard as iron from the cabinet, break them into small pieces with the splitting charm, add water and boil together in the pot, and it’s a pot of savory, aromatic thick soup.
It had meat, salt, carbohydrates, and it was piping hot.
“Woo…”
Fang glanced at Melvin, licked around its mouth with its pink tongue, nudged his calf with its head, rubbed twice, then buried its head back to continue eating.
“Eat up, it’ll get cold soon.”
Melvin rubbed its dog head, Fang nuzzled a few times, and contentedly narrowed its eyes.
“Snuffle snuffle…”
Fang ate the small pot of meat patty thick soup clean, even licking the soup juice from the edges of the dog bowl. Melvin wanted to give it another bowl since there was still some left in the pot, but Fang refused to eat more and lay on the ground exposing its belly, whining.
Then save it as tomorrow’s rations.
Melvin used the cleaning charm to dispel the smell simply, confirmed the wooden house was well-ventilated, added two more logs to the furnace, then slowly got up and left.
Seeing him about to leave, Fang ignored its bloated belly, quickly got up, howled as it led the way in front until escorting him out of the Forbidden Forest before returning to the house.
The round trip delayed a few hours, and the castle had already reached lights-out time.
Melvin looked up at the faint lights shining from several windows.
Only a few windows were still lit, such as Professor McGonagall’s office, the Defence Against the Dark Arts office, the abandoned classroom next to the library on the second floor, the Gryffindor Common Room, and the headmaster’s office where shadows vaguely moved…
Ten minutes later.
Headmaster’s Office.
Hot chocolate with four sugar cubes on the desk steamed, the phoenix head on the perch pecking away. Behind the desk sat the current headmaster, portraits of past headmasters hung on the wall, all silently listening to the young professor in the seat recount tonight’s encounter.
Hogwarts had been founded for nearly a thousand years; what evil and cruel dark wizard had they not heard of, even educated many famous dark wizards recorded in books. Every headmaster had to handle several dark wizard cases every few years during their tenure. Dumbledore’s achievements were the most brilliant; before officially taking over as headmaster, he defeated the leader of the wizarding party Grindelwald, and over a decade ago faced the Dark Lord, saving the wizarding world twice, his merits almost matching the four founders.
The past headmaster portraits weren’t actually interested in the dark wizard who suddenly appeared in Hogsmeade, but seeing the best record-holder Dumbledore listening intently and seeming especially concerned, the headmaster portraits perked up and got serious.
Melvin sniffed the aroma of hot chocolate and finished recounting tonight’s encounter.
Phineas Black wanted to speak but was stopped by Headmaster Moore beside him. Dumbledore pondered thoughtfully, the group of headmaster portraits grew tense too. Dumbledore looked up and asked Melvin:
“The magic on that last rope was very different; how was it different?”
“Very tricky, very evil; that malice almost rivaled the Unforgivable Curse.”
“Oh…” The headmaster portraits on the wall exclaimed in lowered voices.
Dumbledore’s eyes were profound as he looked at the young professor before him, quietly making a decision in his heart: “I think I already know who he is.”
Melvin feigned confusion: “Who?”
“An old friend. Do you remember the dark wizard I mentioned to you last time?”
Dumbledore paused, his tone carrying some sigh: “Those matters are too far in the past; I need to sort out the jumbled memories in my mind… The story starts 54 years ago. At that time, I was the Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts, my work the same as Minerva’s now: visiting Muggle families of students before the school year to guide them to enroll.
“Among them, one student was very special. He had no family and lived in Wool’s Orphanage in London, named Tom Riddle…”
Melvin listened quietly, combining his own past life’s memories with Dumbledore’s account to piece together the full truth of the matter.
Early autumn 1938, Dumbledore met Riddle for the first time, initially thinking he was a pitiful orphan child, but actually he fully exploited his magical talent for theft, robbery, and bullying other children… Neither left a good impression on the other.
After school started, Riddle’s behavior further deepened Dumbledore’s wariness. After the Chamber of Secrets incident implicated Hagrid, he began constantly monitoring Riddle’s actions.
To deal with this Transfiguration Professor’s wariness, Riddle acted the good student at school, with excellent grades, united classmates, and after becoming prefect also served as student president, leaving his name in the display of awards several times. Hogwarts thus enjoyed a few peaceful years.
However, outside school it was a different face.
Riddle investigated his own origins, learning his father was just an ordinary Muggle from Little Hangleton, while the Slytherin bloodline he prided himself on came from his mother Merope Gaunt.
The Gaunt family were blood relative descendants of Slytherin. To keep the bloodline pure, they had generations of incestuous marriage and breeding. When Riddle found the Gaunt old house, this ancient family had only one temperamental mad wizard left, Morfin Gaunt, also his uncle.
In conversation with Morfin Gaunt, Riddle learned the truth of his birth. Back then, the Gaunt family had only three people left: father Marvolo and son Morfin who constantly abused daughter Merope, despising her magical talent. The long-suppressed family made Merope fall in love with Muggle Riddle.
Morfin used magic to discipline Riddle, drawing Ministry of Magic official Bob Ogden. Conflict arose during negotiations, and the Gaunt father and son attacked Ogden, both imprisoned.
Without the Gaunt father and son’s oppression, Merope’s magical talent was released. She used love potion to trick away Muggle Riddle, lived together for a time and got pregnant. Perhaps due to negligence during pregnancy, or believing years of cohabitation would make Riddle develop true love, for some unknowable reason, she stopped using the love potion.
Muggle Riddle sobered, filled with shock and fear, and left on the spot.
Merope suffered a blow, fell into utter despair after grief, sealing herself off from outsiders. Pregnant and destitute, she could only pawn Gaunt family items to survive, including Slytherin’s locket, struggling this way until late 1926 when she gave birth to Voldemort at the entrance of Wool’s Orphanage.
Her long-weakened body couldn’t endure childbirth, and she refused to use magic to fight for life. She died that same night after giving birth.
The orphanage honored her wish, letting the child inherit his father’s name, Tom Riddle.
Sixteen years later, Riddle learned the truth, while his uncle Morfin before him still spat on sister Merope’s actions back then, despising the Muggle blood in Riddle’s veins.
“…Riddle himself also despised the Muggle blood in him and hated that Muggle father who abandoned the family, so he killed the Muggle Riddle family and framed the last blood of the Gaunt family, his uncle Morfin.”
Melvin listened quietly without speaking.
Dumbledore didn’t yet know that Voldemort not only killed those Muggles but used it to create a Horcrux, the Gaunt family ring.
“After graduation, Riddle lurked for a long time, twice trying to return to Hogwarts to teach. The first time I convinced Headmaster Dippet to refuse him, the second time I had taken over as headmaster and refused him again…”
After leaving Hogwarts, Riddle began using the name Voldemort, gathering pure-blood supporters from his student days to found the Death Eaters organization. Dumbledore secretly investigated his background but made no progress.
Around the first Wizarding War, then Potions professor Slughorn suddenly retired. Before he left, Dumbledore inquired about Riddle-related matters, but Slughorn was evasive, with many unclear memories.
After Voldemort’s fall, Dumbledore gathered information, obtaining many useful clues, including Bob Ogden’s memory from back then and house-elf Hokey’s memory.
Dumbledore had known for many years that Voldemort wasn’t truly dead; Quirrell’s return from Albania exactly confirmed his suspicion. Melvin found Ravenclaw’s Diadem, presenting a phenomenon he’d never seen: just a memory having its own actions and thoughts, just a memory attempting to draw his magic power…
That was not merely a memory, but a piece of soul.
Dumbledore was certain Slughorn’s memory from back then concealed something.
The snow outside the window had stopped, but the howling night wind continued.
“…I have ample reason to believe the dark wizard who attacked Hagrid tonight is Professor Quirrell, and that final evil magic came from my old friend, Voldemort.”
After a slight pause, Dumbledore uttered the name, and the cold wind outside the window seemed to freeze for an instant, then grew more tumultuous.
Melvin sorted all the threads in his mind, pondered briefly, and asked softly: “Why is the headmaster telling me such a secret matter?”
“Hmm… many reasons.” Dumbledore sipped hot chocolate and began listing them: “You studied at Ilvermorny, didn’t experience that disturbance period, nor has anyone whispered his terror in your ear repeatedly. You can say his name without hesitation, something even Minerva can’t do.”
Melvin shook his head: “Professor McGonagall is the dean of Gryffindor; she won’t fear any dark wizard, not even the Dark Lord.”
“I know…”
Dumbledore explained to himself: “Many wizards unwilling to say that name aren’t out of fear. It’s more a habit left from that period. Voldemort enchanted his own name; saying it could trigger a sensing. With Voldemort’s fall, that magic no longer holds power. Over a decade, the name linked to too many bloody, tragic cases; mentioning it evokes memories of the deceased.”
“Many foreign wizards can say Voldemort’s name; that’s not the reason the headmaster is telling me these secret truths,” Melvin said.
“Couldn’t you investigate it yourself if I didn’t tell you?” Dumbledore stared into his eyes.
Meeting those deep blue eyes, Melvin instinctively wanted to use Occlumency but detected no magic fluctuations. The headmaster’s gaze had no penetrating or oppressive force, just a gentle look.
Dumbledore withdrew his gaze, sipped hot chocolate: “As a new Professor of Muggle Studies, you’ve had almost no exchange with previous professors. In less than two weeks of school, you seemed to see through Quirrell’s plot, deliberately using your so-called Muggle psychology to scare him from contacting you.”
“As you said, this was a judgment based on psychological analysis.”
“Can psychological analysis find Ravenclaw’s Diadem’s location?” Dumbledore looked at him with a smiling gaze.
“Uh…”
Melvin felt a bit guilty and avoided the headmaster’s gaze, silently tasting the cloyingly sweet hot chocolate.
At the time in the Room of Requirement, to gain the headmaster’s trust, he’d impulsively found Ravenclaw’s Diadem. Looking back, it was indeed hasty. Anyway, everyone now knows the location; he should have delayed two days, saying he discovered it by chance—that would be reasonable.
For wizards who gained his trust, Dumbledore respected their little secrets and didn’t press further:
“Melvin, you might wonder: since I know Professor Quirrell’s identity and that he and Voldemort infiltrated the castle for the Philosopher’s Stone, why not arrest them directly?”
Not wondering, not wondering at all.
Melvin silently denied in his heart but guessed on the surface: “Defence Against the Dark Arts professors are in short supply?”
“That’s indeed an important reason.” Dumbledore immediately smiled: “But there’s an even more important one, which I think you’ve noticed.”
Melvin nodded and said softly: “Harry Potter.”
“Yes, Harry Potter…”
The smile faded from Dumbledore’s face, his eyes somewhat sorrowful: “Harry’s parents, James and Lily, were very close in school, married soon after graduation, just in time for that disturbance period: hiding while pregnant and giving birth. I still remember them, a very optimistic young couple. Whenever we gathered to exchange information, hearing of another tragedy or disaster elsewhere, when everyone sank into grief, they always broke the silence to continue the meeting.
“Back then everyone felt life was hard but could barely hold on.
“Until 1981, ten years ago, when Harry was one, their hiding place was leaked, Voldemort found the young couple and cruelly killed them.
“Before dying, Lily left a blessing on little Harry, a powerful ancient magic. That magic rebounded the Killing Curse aimed at Harry, destroying Voldemort’s body.
“From then on, Harry and Voldemort’s fates intertwined tightly.
“For some reasons I can’t yet reveal, I’m certain Voldemort will return. It’s foreseeable the revived Voldemort will target Harry. Time is short for Harry; he must quickly familiarize himself with this Dark Lord, at least accumulate experience.”
“…”
