Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 566 At least I only took what I had given away!

"She also said that the child was named Tom, after his father, and the middle name was after her own father—Marvolo. Yes, I was curious about that too. It's a really strange name, like someone from a circus. She also said that the boy's last name was Riddle, and then she didn't say anything more and died soon after."

"The poor girl valued these names very much, but no Tom, Marvolo, or Riddle family member ever came to see him, nor did he see any of his relatives, so he remained in the orphanage to this day."

“All those relatives are dead,” Harry said suddenly. “I saw Voldemort’s father’s tombstone the night he was resurrected. Voldemort said he killed that ‘useless old man’ with his own hands.”

"He says it's useless on one hand, but then he wants to be resurrected by his own father's bones," Cohen clicked his tongue. "He's completely hypocritical."

Voldemort looks like a mentally immature person.

“He was a strange child,” Mrs. Cole said slowly. “He was strange even when he was a baby, he never cried, and as he grew older, he became… very strange.”

"Strange, in what way?" asked the Dumbledore in his memory.

Then, Mrs. Cole told Dumbledore many stories about Tom Riddle bullying the other children in the yard, and claimed that Tom had made the other children experience many strange, even terrifying, events.

However, since there was no actual harm done, Tom only frightened the children and was not kicked out or put in a juvenile detention center.

Mrs. Cole's cheeks were flushed from drinking too much wine, and she shook her head as she said:

"Everyone says they're hallucinating, but how did he manage to make all the children in the orphanage have the same hallucinations...?"

After Dumbledore suggested meeting Tom Riddle, the tipsy Mrs. Cole agreed.

They passed through stone stairs and several long corridors. The atmosphere was rather oppressive. The orphans were all dressed in identical gray belted robes, which didn't look much different from the attire of wizards.

However, judging from the children's clean faces and their curious peeks out from the room, they are being well cared for here.

This was not common in Muggle society shortly after World War I, which shows that Mrs. Cole, just as Dumbledore described, was indeed very responsible in taking care of the children, but there were too many orphans to provide them with good conditions.

Tom's room was on the third floor, the first room in a long corridor. Mrs. Cole knocked on the door, and a voice answered from inside.

They went inside, and found an empty room with little decoration, containing only an old wardrobe, a wooden chair, and an iron bed.

Tom Riddle sat on the bed with his legs stretched out in front of him, holding a book in his hands.

His face lacked the unsettling features of the Gaunt family; he didn't have prominent large eyes or monkey-like arms. He was simply a miniature version of his handsome father.

Tom, within his family, was like someone who had always been covered in thick mud, suddenly cleaned up—

The Muggle bloodline is like a showerhead, washing away the pure-blooded monsters that bred themselves into human form.

"Tsk..." Cohen made a sarcastic sound.

In the very end, Voldemort, who had already transformed from a monster into a human in terms of bloodline, still managed to turn himself back into a monster.

Mrs. Cole left Dumbledore there and went to sober up.

"Who are you?" Tom asked, squinting.

“Hello, Tom, I am Professor Dumbledore.” Dumbledore extended his hand to him.

Tom hesitated for a moment before giving a stiff handshake.

“Professor…” Tom repeated, staring suspiciously at Dumbledore, “Is it like ‘Doctor’? What are you doing here? Did she send you to examine me?” “No.”

“I don’t believe you,” Riddle said. “She wants someone to come and see me, doesn’t she? Tell the truth!”

Riddle's last three words were very harsh, showing that he often used this kind of intimidation to others, but to Dumbledore, the words seemed somewhat weak.

Dumbledore simply smiled kindly.

"Has anyone ever said that you look like a therapist?" Cohen asked.

"Oh, how so?" Dumbledore asked, somewhat curious.

“He’s the kind of person who, when faced with a visitor’s question, just smiles and says things like ‘Hmm,’ ‘Very good,’ ‘It sounds like…’ ‘Could you elaborate?’” Cohen said. “See? You can see the veins on Riddle’s forehead.”

“It’s better than having a conflict with him. I’m here to recruit students, Cohen, not to deal with dangerous individuals—he’s just a student at this point,” Dumbledore said.

“If only we could go back to that time…” Harry said, staring intently at Riddle.

“Don’t dwell on what has already happened,” Dumbledore said. “Our focus should be on the future. Looking back is for the purpose of making the future a better one, not for the purpose of changing the past.”

At this point, because Dumbledore in his memory explained his purpose—to invite Riddle to study at Hogwarts—Riddle became biased and believed that Dumbledore was a doctor from an asylum.

“You can’t fool me! You’re from the asylum, aren’t you? ‘Professor,’ humph, that’s right. Let me tell you, I’m not going, understand? That damned old hag is the one who should be in the asylum. I didn’t do anything to Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop. You can ask them yourself!” Riddle roared.

“I didn’t come from an asylum,” Dumbledore said calmly. “Hogwarts is a school for people with special talents—”

"I'm not crazy!"

“I know you’re not crazy. Hogwarts isn’t a school for madmen; it’s a school of magic.”

Riddle was stunned upon hearing the word "magic".

Then, he accepted the fact with a speed that left Harry speechless.

“Magic? My abilities… are magic?” Riddle murmured, looking at his hands, his body trembling slightly with excitement.

"How could he accept it so quickly?" Harry said in disbelief. "It took me so long—Hagrid was exhausted from trying to persuade him—"

“I heard from Edward that Cohen accepted it very quickly,” Dumbledore said. “Perhaps it’s because everyone has different expectations of themselves.”

“No wonder back then…” Harry looked at Cohen thoughtfully.

"It's mainly used to snatch candy—but I should clarify beforehand that I gave them all the candy first, then regretted it and took it back."

Cohen immediately explained when Harry looked over.

"Not a single lollipop was harmed because of this."

“And what about me? You even stole mine,” Harry reminded him.

(End of this chapter)