Hogwarts Study Panel

Chapter 333, Section 332: Tom Riddle
Dumbledore seemed somewhat satisfied. He popped a lemon sorbet into his mouth and handed one to Sheehan.

“Muggles made this candy, but it’s not only popular in Muggle areas.”

Sheen took the Lemon Olaf. The candy had a lemon-flavored hard coating on the outside and a white filling inside. It made a sizzling sound when you put it in your mouth.

While eating Lemon Olaf, Sheen unconsciously glanced at the long table in front of him, where silver plates were piled high with sweets such as Lemon Olaf, cockroach skewers, sour berries, and raspberry jam.

"Minerva doesn't really like sweets, but she'll buy some."

Headmaster Dumbledore squinted and said,
“Come on, Mr. Green, follow me.”

……

Chamber of Secrets.

After passing many stone pillars carved with coiled serpents, the statue of Slytherin came into view.

The basilisk, too, was wearing glasses and nestled inside the statue.

Then, Sheehan was surprised to hear a Parseltongue phrase. He turned around and saw that it was Dumbledore speaking.

"Surprisingly, you think this is a difficult thing?"

Sheehan silently looked away. It seemed that Principal Dumbledore could not only understand Parsley, but also had some knowledge of it.

Then, Slytherin's enormous stone face began to move. Its mouth opened, widening until it formed a huge black hole, from which an impatient monster slid out.

"Salazar Slytherin used it to protect the school, and as far as I know, for a long time it simply did its job."

Then, an accident happened. Do you know what it was?

Headmaster Dumbledore said.

"Voldemort used it to kill Myrtle."

Sheen replied.

The basilisk had already slithered to Sheen's feet. When it stood up, it was larger than a hundred Sheens, but at this moment it was just affectionately circling around Sheen.

"It is a tool, child, and undeniably, it was not made with good intentions."

But does birth determine everything? Child, I don't think so.

In the dark, secret room, Dumbledore's voice echoed continuously.
"However, let's get back to the tool. In some people's hands, it's deadly, but I see you've handled it quite well."

It's already wearing glasses, and I think it might hear the sounds even more clearly when it wears earmuffs.

Dumbledore blinked.

Sheen was somewhat surprised. If the Basilisk really wore the earmuffs and couldn't hear the Parseltongue, it might actually be able to act as a castle guardian.

However, it probably doesn't have much effect on its own.

So the basilisk went into a deep sleep.

Headmaster Dumbledore led Sheehan out of the Chamber of Secrets.

Just then, a group of young wizards excitedly passed by them, but they didn't seem to see Sheen and Headmaster Dumbledore at all, as if they were invisible.

So Sheen looked down and found that he was indeed invisible; Dumbledore had cast the Disillusionment Charm without him noticing.

They walked all the way to the headmaster's office, where Dumbledore patted Fawkes and uttered a word that made Sheehan pause slightly:
Tom Riddle...

Few people know that this represents a young Voldemort.

What surprised me was that you'd dealt with him so many times, and each time you hadn't lost. That's unbelievable.

With a flick of his wand, Headmaster Dumbledore conjured a shallow stone basin on the table. Runes and symbols were carved around its rim, and the center was filled with a silvery substance that resembled both liquid and gas, like clouds.

“We’re going to access my memory. I think you’ll find it not only vividly detailed, but also incredibly accurate. You go first, Mr. Green… (bows head)…”

Sheen leaned down thoughtfully toward the Pensieve, his face plunging into the cold memories within, and then he fell into the darkness…

A few seconds later, his feet touched solid ground, and he opened his eyes to find himself standing with Dumbledore on a busy old street in London.

Dumbledore naturally took his hand, and they entered an orphanage on the street.

"that's me."

Dumbledore pointed cheerfully at a tall figure ahead.

Sheen found it inexplicably amusing that Headmaster Dumbledore was pointing at Professor Dumbledore. And in his memory, Professor Dumbledore was talking to a handsome orphan.

"I'm here to take you to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Dumbledore said.

"magic?"

The orphan named Riddle repeated softly.

"good."

Dumbledore said.

"My abilities are... are they magic?"

What skills do you have?

"Various kinds."

Riddle lowered his voice, a flush of excitement spreading rapidly from his neck down to his sunken cheeks. He seemed very excited.

"I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals obey my commands without training. Whoever angers me, I can make them suffer. I can hurt them if I want to."

His legs were trembling. He stumbled forward, sat back down on the bed, lowered his head, and stared at his hands as if in prayer.

“I’ve always known I’m different from others.”

He said to his trembling hands,

“I’ve always known I’m special. I’ve always known there’s something to it.”

"Yes, your idea is correct."

Dumbledore said, his smile fading as he focused his gaze intently on Riddle.
"You are a wizard."

Riddle looked up. His expression changed instantly:

He exuded a kind of fanatical joy, his expression almost like that of a wild beast.

Beside Sheehan, Headmaster Dumbledore wore an extremely complex expression:

“When wizards possess extraordinary powers, they always face a choice—at that moment, it is easy to turn to evil.”

And so, that memory quickly faded, and another memory appeared—

"Open the door."

Professor Dumbledore pointed to a wardrobe and said.

Riddle hesitated for a moment, then walked over and flung open the wardrobe door.

Several worn-out clothes hung on the clothesline, and on the top shelf was a small cardboard box that was shaking incessantly, making a clattering sound, as if several frantic rats were trapped inside.

"Take it out."

"Dumbledore said. Riddle took the wobbly box off the table, looking bewildered.

"Is there something in that box that you shouldn't have?"

"Dumbledore asked. Riddle gave Dumbledore a deep, clear look.

"Yes, I think so, sir."

He finally spoke in a dry, monotone voice.

"Open."

Dumbledore said.

Riddle opened the lid and, without even looking, dumped the contents onto his bed.

Among them were a trembling reel, a silver thimble, and a harmonica that had lost its luster. As soon as they were removed from the box, they stopped trembling and lay obediently on the thin blanket, motionless.

It's obvious that these were stolen.

(End of this chapter)