Hogwarts Advanced Guide

Chapter 440 I really sound like Dumbledore!
"That's the memory we're going to look at next, Harry," Hera said softly. "Professor Dippet turned him down for a rather familiar reason. He was too young for the duties of a professor. But he welcomes Riddle to apply again in two years, if he still wants to teach by then."

"What do you think about this?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"I think this is a very wise judgment." Hera said with her head tilted. "I think Dumbledore thinks so too, but he must be very disturbed, because he is almost the only one who sees through Tom Riddle. I think he must have played a lot in the middle-Professor Dippet likes Riddle very much, in fact, all the teachers in the castle like him."

"What position does he want? Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"That's right, according to the records, it was taught by an old professor named Galatea Meles, who had been teaching at Hogwarts for more than 50 years." Hera said, "What happened later, as I said just now, was that Riddle went to the Borginburg store, and all the professors who admired him said it was a pity that such a talented young wizard became a clerk. But Riddle was not just a clerk, he was polite, handsome and smart, and he disguised himself so well that everyone fell in love with him. Right."

"What did he do?" Harry couldn't help asking.

"He was sent to persuade others to hand over the treasures to the store. Bojinbok specializes in items with specific functions, and Riddle is very interested in these." Hera said after a pause. "This is exactly what the memory in front of us shows. I think Dumbledore must have spent a lot of effort to get this memory."

For the next time, Hera didn't speak, because the Riddle in his memory had already entered the room, he was very popular with the old lady, and this allowed Riddle to get almost everything he wanted to know from her.

Hepzibah—the fat, fat old lady with the ginger wig—brought out her treasures, one of which was Hufflepuff's gold cup, and the other was an ornate little locket of gold that made Harry's eyes widen.

"That's Merope's locket!" Harry couldn't help exclaiming, but he fell silent when Hera didn't respond. His memory wasn't too long. When Riddle and Hepzibah bid farewell, the surroundings turned into darkness again.

"It's time to go, Harry," Hera said softly, and when the Hepzibah elf wobbled away holding the box, he grabbed Harry's arm, and together they walked through the void and ascended back to Hera's office.

"Hepzibah Smith passed away two days after this. The obituary about her death is in my drawer. If you want to see it, I will be happy to show it to you." Hera sat down and motioned for Harry to sit down too, but he had no intention of opening the drawer. "The Ministry of Magic determined that the house-elf mistakenly put poison in her mistress' evening cocoa tea."

"Impossible," said Harry angrily.

"It seems that we agree." Hera replied, if everything was really just an accident, Dumbledore would not keep this memory on purpose. He believed that Dumbledore would only leave memories that he had confirmed. "Of course, I think you must have discovered that there are many similarities between this death time and the Riddle family's murder. There are scapegoats in both cases, and the scapegoats have clear memories of the murder—"

"It admitted it?"

"Yes, it remembered putting something in the mistress's cocoa tea, which turned out not to be sugar, but a rare and deadly poison, and was ruled not murder, but dementia—"

"Riddle tampered with its memory, just like Morfin!" Harry said angrily, his character made him completely unacceptable that this kind of injustice happened.

"Yes, this is also my conclusion. And, like Morfin, I guess someone in the Ministry of Magic must have discovered how similar this is to the murders that happened in the Gaunt family, but they all have their own tendencies—" Hera paused, and didn't explain the reason behind it clearly. Although he didn't care much about the house-elf, it was obvious that Harry didn't think so.

"—just because it's a house-elf?" said Harry angrily, "so the Ministry put him in Azkaban without an investigation?"

"That's right, that's why I said that Dumbledore must have spent a lot of energy, because he had to make up a suitable reason to visit a house elf who accidentally killed his master." Hera spread her hands and said, "Besides, she admitted all this, most people would not think of investigating again, just like Morfin's situation."

"But why did Riddle kill her?" Harry asked suspiciously. After all, there must be some purpose in doing things. Besides, Hepziba is still Riddle's customer. He hopes that Hepziba will sell the items in the Borginburg store, doesn't he?

"This is Riddle's frightening style of acting." Hera said with a sigh, "If you don't mind, I would like to remind you to pay attention to some details in the story. Although the memory only tells us that Riddle knew the existence of the quilt and the locket, I think I must tell you one thing, Slytherin's locket—the one that Merope sold, and it was made into a Horcrux by Riddle."

"How do you know?" Harry asked.

"Because we have already destroyed it, if you want to hear the details, you can come to me anytime you are free, and I will tell you what happened." Hera said with a smile, "That was really an adventure, and Dumbledore took me there."

Harry showed envious eyes. He was very eager to have an adventure with Dumbledore, the person he respected and admired the most, but unfortunately he was no longer here.

"Okay, let's get back to the topic." Hera tapped the table lightly with her knuckles. "This time, he obviously didn't do it for revenge, but for profit. He just wanted the poor old lady's two treasures, just like he stole other children's things in the orphanage, just like he stole his uncle's ring, this time he stole Hepzibah's cup and locket."

"A cup that can be called a treasure, and there is a carving of Hufflepuff on it," Harry said hesitantly. He somewhat understood why Hera emphasized that he must pay attention to Voldemort's habit of collecting loot.

"That's right, it's what you think, the legendary lost Hufflepuff Gold Cup, Slytherin's locket. Obviously he thinks these are very meaningful existences." Hera said firmly. "Even for committing such a crime."

"But," said Harry, frowning, "it seems crazy. To take such a big risk, and lose your job, just to"

"Maybe it's crazy to you, but it's definitely not true to Riddle," Hera said. "He obviously lacks the empathy that a normal person would have, and couldn't understand the harm he caused to others—I tend to think this was developed in the orphanage. He had a great power too early, and it made him lost in power."

"That's really bad," Harry said disgustedly.

"That's right, so this is where we are different from him, we have love—" Hera spat secretly, "Damn it, why did I become like Dumbledore's tone."

"I quite like you the way you are now. This is the Hera Lestrange I'm familiar with." Harry said with a smile.

"Okay." Hera nodded helplessly. "I hope you can understand what these things mean to him in the future, Harry, but you have to admit that at least it's not hard to imagine him taking the locket as his rightfully so."

"The locket maybe," said Harry, "but why did he steal the cup too?"

"It was Hufflepuff's gold cup, and I think that had a huge appeal to Riddle," Hera went on. "He couldn't resist something that was steeped in the history of Hogwarts. As we discussed before, for Riddle, Hogwarts was his happiest place, the first and only place where he felt like home."

As Hera spoke, she turned the Pensieve again, and Harry was surprised to find that the scene inside was so similar to the office they were in at the moment—or the headmaster's office, but it was many years earlier than now.

"Whose memory is this?"

"Dumbledore's," said Hera, diving into the flowing silver substance and landing in the office he had just left.In his memory, Fox was sleeping soundly on the perch, and Dumbledore was behind the desk. He looked very similar to the Dumbledore in their impression, but he was obviously much younger, and one could draw conclusions just by looking at the wrinkles on his face.The only difference between this office and the present one is that it is snowing outside, and light blue flakes of snow drift across the window in the dark, and pile up on the window sill outside.

"I haven't changed any layout in the office, I haven't moved every item left by Dumbledore, I tried my best to make everything the same as before." Hera took a deep breath and said, he stretched out his hand to tease Fox, but it naturally didn't fluctuate, after all, it was just a memory.

"Dumbledore." Harry murmured, looking at the figure.

The young Dumbledore seemed to be waiting for something, and sure enough, there was a knock on the door after a while, and he said, "Come in."

Voldemort walked in. His face was not as snake-like as it had risen from the great stone cauldron, his eyes were not so red, his face was not as mask-like.His face seemed burnt, the features blurred, queerly twisted like wax.The whites of the eyes now seemed permanently bloodshot, but the pupils were not the two slits that were later seen.He wore a long black cloak, and his face was as white as snowflakes on his shoulders.

But Dumbledore behind the table didn't show any surprise, this visit obviously had an appointment.

"Good evening, Tom," said Dumbledore lightly, "sit down."

"Thank you." Voldemort sat down on the chair that Dumbledore was pointing to - it looked like the one Harry had just left. "I heard you became the headmaster." His voice was a little higher and cooler than before. "A respectable choice."

"I'm glad you agree." Dumbledore smiled. "May I buy you a drink?"

"Thanks a lot," said Voldemort, "I've come a long way."

Dumbledore stood up and walked briskly to the cabinet where the Pensieve now stood, but was then full of wine bottles.He handed Voldemort a glass of wine, poured himself a glass, and returned to his desk.

"So, Tom... what brought you here?"

Voldemort didn't answer right away, just sipped his wine.

"They don't call me 'Tom' anymore, I'm called—"

"I know what you're called," said Dumbledore with a pleasant smile, "but to me you'll probably always be Tom Riddle. That's probably one of the annoying things about being a teacher, they never quite forget what their pupils were like."

He raised his glass as if to toast Voldemort.Voldemort remained expressionless.But there was a tiny detail here that only the observant could notice, and Hera didn't know if Harry would notice: Dumbledore's refusal to use Voldemort's chosen title was refusing to let Voldemort dominate the conversation, and Voldemort felt it.

"I'm surprised you've been here so long," said Voldemort, after a moment's pause. "I've always wondered how a wizard like you never wants to leave the school."

"He is absolutely unwilling to leave the school. To him, this is all he has, and he has dedicated his life to Hogwarts." Hera said in a low voice.

"Yeah." Harry nodded, his eyes were red again, but when he saw Voldemort's face, he immediately became hateful again. If it wasn't for Voldemort, everything would not be what it is now.

But obviously Dumbledore still didn't expect that Voldemort would become the second Dark Lord many years later, and even died in his hands (at least Harry thought so).

Dumbledore, still grinning, as if Voldemort was not at all on his mind, continued, "Well, for a wizard like me, there is nothing more important than imparting ancient arts and training young minds. If I remember correctly, you too have seen the appeal of a teaching career."

"I can still see it now," said Voldemort, "I just wonder why you—someone who is often consulted by the Ministry of Magic and seems to have been nominated as Minister for Magic twice in a row—"

"Three times actually, but a position at the Ministry of Magic never appealed to me. It's something we have in common, I suppose."

Voldemort lowered his head without smiling, and took another sip of his wine.The two fell into silence.

"Dumbledore has never had a desire for power. Maybe I don't know him enough, but I always believe in it."

(End of this chapter)