bacchusnovels Chapter 567 Defeating Voldemort? Me?
Chapter 567 Defeating Voldemort? Me?
Chapter 563 Defeating Voldemort? Me?
Hermione was tasked with relaying the information to Professor Phillips.
Hermione's description was very well organized.
He clearly explained what happened in just a few words.
"I see."
Sean nodded, indicating that he understood the whole story.
Harry voiced his speculation.
"Professor, I believe it was Draco Malfoy who gave Katie that necklace."
Hermione and Ron looked surprised, not to mention Professor McGonagall.
"Harry, this is a very serious accusation—"
Harry then recounted his only previous experience in Knockturn Alley.
"But—this necklace appeared in that shop, and Malfoy wanted to buy it, many years ago—how could it possibly be related to Malfoy again?"
Apart from Sean, no one believed Harry.
Harry seemed frustrated, and even during the second "Pendulum Vitae" class that evening, he was still talking non-stop about his sixth sense to Sean.
"Professor, please trust me, beware of Malfoy."
The savior's sixth sense is really accurate.
Sean could only sigh like that.
Even without the chance encounter with Malfoy again in Knockturn Alley during summer vacation, Harry still managed to suspect Malfoy.
This pair of rivals is a bit too much.
Malfoy's every move was right under Sean's nose; in other words—
Some of it was at his behest.
"Professor, shall we begin class now?"
"Wait a minute for our teaching aids."
Riddle arrived quickly, and unlike the last time he came here, he brought a gourd with him.
It looks like a wine gourd.
Perhaps—he wanted to drink while looking at his memories?
Sean ignored him and instead brought out the Pensieve from behind the bookshelf.
The three of them plunged into the Pensieve again.
When their vision cleared, they found themselves on a street in London.
The architecture looks old, like it's from many years ago.
A conspicuously tall man was crossing the road in front of a horse-drawn milk cart.
"Is that Professor Dumbledore?"
Harry, with his keen eye, immediately recognized a young Dumbledore—perhaps this is why he was able to become such an excellent Seeker.
"Yes."
Young Albus Dumbledore's long hair and beard were not white—but russet, and his unconventional appearance attracted a lot of attention even in London.
"Is he American?"
"Only Americans would parade around like this, acting like barbarians—"
The conversation between the father and son on the street drifted into the ears of the three of them.
Sean and Riddle laughed together, something they rarely did, while Harry looked like he wanted to laugh but didn't dare.
The three odd group followed the young Dumbledore for a short distance.
We passed through a large iron gate and entered the courtyard.
Riddle had already guessed which memory it was, so he took the gourd from his waist and gulped it down.
Harry gave this "teaching aid man" a strange look.
I have absolutely no idea how he brought the wine gourd into his memory.
Behind the courtyard stood a square, gloomy, and old-fashioned building, surrounded by high railings.
Dumbledore walked to the door and knocked.
The gears of fate have begun to turn silently.
Riddell had considered many possibilities:
If—if Dumbledore hadn't come to take him to school, would everything have been different?
If he hadn't entered Hogwarts back then, would things have turned out differently?
If he had known about his special nature from a young age, being born into a family of Squigglies, would he have followed the path of "Voldemort"?
If — if — if.
There aren't that many "what ifs" in this world.
Neither Dumbledore nor Hogwarts could stop his determination to strive for advancement.
"I'm looking for Mrs. Cole."
3
A very familiar name.
Riddle was momentarily stunned; he hadn't heard that name in a long time.
It reminded him of some things.
Mrs. Cole was a thin, bony woman who did things in a manner somewhat like Professor McGonagall.
In his first two years of school—
Mrs. Cole's shadow can often be seen in Professor McGonagall.
This gave him a feeling: there isn't much difference between Muggles and wizards. They are both human beings. The only difference is that one side has special abilities while the other side doesn't.
But a person's intelligence does not increase with this innate "special ability".
A child with a gun can easily kill an adult.
This does not mean that the child possesses the wisdom of an adult or surpasses adults in other aspects.
Power is just power.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Cole."
Upon seeing Dumbledore's attire, Mrs. Cole unconsciously frowned.
"You are—"
"My name is Albus Dumbledore, as you have probably already seen. I am here to discuss Tom Riddle with you."
"Are you his relative?"
"No, I am a teacher and I would like to invite Tom Riddle to study at our school."
After using the Confusion Charm, Mrs. Cole was relieved.
"Could you tell me about Tom Riddle's background?"
"I remember that incident very clearly."
Mrs. Cole took a sip of her drink and began to tell her story.
"I had just started working here when it was New Year's Eve. It was snowing heavily outside. A girl who wasn't much older than me knocked on the door. We helped her in. She had given birth to a child and died not long after."
[”
'
Harry's mouth dropped open in surprise.
Riddle, however, looked grim and took another big gulp of his drink.
That gourd was like a bottomless pit.
No matter how much you drink, there's always alcohol in it.
Then, Riddle saw his younger self, how nostalgic!
At that time, I knew nothing.
Is it good? Is it bad? Or—
"Hello, Tom, you can call me Professor Dumbledore."
At first, she completely mistook Dumbledore for the doctor who was treating her, Mrs. Cole.
Or perhaps they are people in a mental hospital.
At that time —
He was convinced that Mrs. Cole wanted to put "the strange man" in an asylum.
He didn't give Dumbledore a friendly look.
But after Dumbledore demonstrated the magic, this doubt was conveniently replaced by ecstasy.
What kind of feeling is that?
Riddell still remembers it to this day.
It was a thrill that mixed fear and hope.
It was a kind of exhilarating feeling that suddenly made life meaningful.
That's a kind of—
He found his kind, although this kind of kind was not quite the same as the kind of kind he had imagined.
He knew it—he was no ordinary person!
But—how foolish and naive he was back then.
The memory was quickly finished.
When Harry emerged from the Pensieve, he was still reflecting on Voldemort's life.
Did Professor Dumbledore know he would become the most powerful dark wizard in history?
"have no idea."
Riddle put the gourd he was holding back into his pocket.
"If he had known, given Dumbledore's old-fashioned nature, he would have certainly taken some action to prevent these things from happening."
However, he still noticed some signs—
'
"Dumbledore has been watching Voldemort ever since he entered Hogwarts."
"This attention disgusted him."
"
Why would Dumbledore pay attention to him?
Harry asked again, only to be met with a counter-question from Riddle.
Why is Dumbledore paying attention to you?
Perhaps it was Riddle's deep gaze, or perhaps it was that vague sense of familiarity.
Harry suddenly blurted out something.
Why did Dumbledore pay attention to him? He himself believed there were many reasons.
His parents were very familiar with Dumbledore.
He had defeated Voldemort himself.
Own----
"It's because of talent."
Riddle didn't expect Harry to answer the question and simply shook his head.
"People with great talent are bound to attract the attention of others."
"Is it because of talent?" Harry asked hesitantly.
"Of course," Riddle confirmed again matter-of-factly. "Your talents are so far inferior to Voldemort's—yet you still enjoy Dumbledore's favor. Doesn't that speak volumes?"
Looking back on himself, Harry had to admit that he was far inferior to Voldemort.
Whether at the same age or now.
It took me a long time to mentally prepare myself to be a wizard.
And what about Voldemort?
It seems that they had long been aware of their difference from others.
Not only did they readily accept this difference, but they also took advantage of it.
Using magic to harm, intimidate, or manipulate others.
If I were as skilled as Voldemort, would Dudley dare to bully me?
If I had Voldemort's mentality, would the Dursleys have let me use their storage room?
So—I made a mistake?
Harry, horrified by the conclusion, hurriedly shook his head, trying to banish the thought from his mind.
Sean helped him out.
"People are different by nature."
Sean shook his head and explained to Harry.
"It's like an innate aura. If you find it hard to understand, you can think of it as a card from The Witcher Kill."
"Some cards counter each other."
"This is what Voldemort looked like as a teenager!"
As soon as he returned to the common room, Harry immediately told Ron and Hermione about what he had just learned.
"Then why did Dumbledore show you these things?"
"Maybe----"
Hermione casually closed the book on the table in front of her.
"Dumbledore has always hoped that you would grow up, grow up to defeat Voldemort again."
Defeat Voldemort? Me?
""
Harry looked down at his hands, feeling that something was amiss.
"By the way, what have you been busy with lately?"
"Did Professor Phillips invite you for tea?"
Harry and Hermione's answers were completely irrelevant.
Harry shook his head at Hermione's question, and Hermione answered.
"Then you probably don't know what I'm doing."
"So what exactly are they doing?"
"I've recently been helping Phillips try a new tea, tea with alcohol—to be precise, we've already tried black tea with whiskey, and these past few days we've been researching the pairing of oolong tea with brandy."
"6
Ginny, who was doing her homework nearby, suddenly put down her pen.
Can oolong tea and brandy be paired together?
Hermione glanced at her and nodded.
"Of course, I've tried it many times—the taste isn't strange, it's quite unique—I'm just constantly looking for the right proportions—I always feel like I should add something—like lemon?"
"Do you need any help? I'd like to try too," Ginny suddenly said.
"Aren't you busy with the Quidditch team's training lately?"
"That will only take a little time—Professor Phillips has helped our family a lot—I want to do something to help him."
"Alright then, if you have time at lunchtime these next few days, you can come with me to the kitchen of the house-elf."
""
"Uh-huh."
Ginny nodded contentedly, as if she had put her mind at ease, and tidied up the table, preparing to return to her dormitory.
Hermione watched Ginny's departing figure, her smile not very pleasant.
This all started at the end of last semester—
It wasn't that long ago, only three months ago.
While secretly investigating the mole within Umbridge's army, she overheard Ginny talking to someone by the fireplace late at night.
Therefore, she placed a phonograph near the fireplace sofa at night.
But when I received it the next day, for some reason...
The phonograph had miraculously broken.
Before I could continue the investigation, summer vacation arrived.
But even without concrete evidence, just based on Ginny's recent series of strange behaviors...
Hermione could also roughly deduce what Ginny was going to do.
It's simply detrimental to Professor Phillips.
However, she was always hampered by the lack of evidence—and their relationship with the Weasleys made it impossible to speak openly about it—so she was always looking for an opportunity to expose Ginny's true colors.
What better opportunity could there be?
At that time, the perpetrators will be caught red-handed.
The following day, herbal medicine class.
"so--
—
"Are you going to be busy in the kitchen with Ginny all afternoon?"
Hermione nodded and replied casually, "Yes."
"And what about tonight?" Ron suddenly asked.
"I'm going to Professor Slughorn's party tonight."
"How was that party in Slughorn recently?" Harry asked in a muffled voice through the resin shield.
"Oh, actually it's quite interesting."
Hermione answered while putting on her protective goggles.
"Although he kept talking about his accomplished students, he was clearly trying to curry favor with McClagan because McClagan knew many prominent figures. However, he treated us to some delicious food and introduced us to Gwenorg Jones."
"Gwenog Jones?" Ron's eyes widened instantly, his gaze behind his protective goggles brightening. "Gwenog Jones? The captain of the Holyhead Harpy?"
“Yes,” Hermione nodded. “I personally think she’s a bit self-centered, but—”
"No talking during class!" Professor Sprout interrupted them sharply. She strode over, her expression stern. "You're already behind; the other students have started working—Neville has already gotten a pod!"
'