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Chapter 1085: Love
🕑 Added 2024-04-21 06:23:23 +0000 UTCJust like Voldemort, Tom Riddle in front of him firmly believed that he would not fail and that he was invincible.
Evan didn't know how to evaluate this kind of mysterious confidence. It could only be said to be a manifestation of arrogance and conceit.
Voldemort failed in the end and had nothing. He couldn't match Dumbledore at all.
History had proven this point countless times, but he himself had never been willing to admit it.
"Professor, you do not understand any of this!" Riddle continued. "You just wish to maintain the existing order..."
"Having immense power, realizing cruel dreams, forcing Muggles into submission, wizards triumphing, becoming a young leader, the unconquerable conqueror of death," said Dumbledore softly. "Tom, I must admit, I once had such thoughts like you, although the methods were different, but these are obviously absurd.”
His gaze calmly passed through Riddle, looking at the Resurrection Stone inside the cabinet, with an expression of melancholy and sadness, evidently thinking of his sister and parents.
"I have paid a heavy price for this. I regret not being able to tell you this back then..."
"This is not absurd at all. I succeeded, and you did not!" Riddle repeated it again.
"Shut up, Riddle," said Evan impatiently. "You have not succeeded, never have. All you have done is make the world more chaotic, just like yourself, becoming a terrible monster. Now, all you need to do is tell us what you know, and then wait for us to decide your fate."
Tom Riddle gave him a look full of hatred, but it might be because of Gryffindor’s sword in Evan's hand, he didn't say anything.
"Evan is right, now is really not a good time to reminisce and argue," Dumbledore took a breath and looked directly into Riddle's eyes again. "Tom, please tell me how you were split in the first place. I am very curious about this as well. The Horcruxes you and I seem to know are different."
"Different?" Riddle sneered. "But I am still a Horcrux. Since you want to know, let me tell you. As I said just now, my appearance was an accident, an early one. Since entering Hogwarts, I have begun to search for my own origins. Although different from the orphanage, surrounded by wizards with magic, I knew I was different from them. I firmly believed I was unique.
"Over the past five years, I searched through all the books I could find, but I didn't find my father's name. I thought he would be a wizard, not my mother, who died so casually, which is really ridiculous," he said with disdain. "But what's even more ridiculous is that she was indeed a witch. I eventually found her family name in a history book, the Gaunt family, the last descendant of Slytherin, a noble pure-blood wizarding family."
"So you came here, when you were fifteen years old that summer, and met Morfin Gaunt."
"Oh, Professor, have you met my dear uncle?" Riddle squinted; his mood gradually calmed down, and he said in a glib tone, “I thought he was imprisoned in Azkaban after our meeting!"
"Yes, but I saw him before he died and found out some important information from him," said Dumbledore. "What happened after that night? After you took Morfin's wand and ring?"
"Don't you already know? I went to see that man, right there in the big house on the other side of the valley. I wanted to see the man who abandoned me and my mother, the man I have been looking for for fifteen years. I wanted to go over and see what he looked like," said Riddle, a cruel and cold smile playing at his lips. "Of course, I went there with hatred. If I had the chance, I would not hesitate to make him pay for what he had done in the past."
"You killed him?"
"I planned to, but strictly speaking, I didn't enjoy that pleasure," Riddle answered, his gaze passing over Evan and Dumbledore's faces in turn, finally settling on the photo inside the cabinet, and staring at it intently. "Before that, I had already split up. In that man's room, I found this photo, left by my mother for him. He didn't notice it, but I saw this picture in his memories. I controlled him, using a simple spell to learn everything between him and my mother, many things he had forgotten."
Dumbledore listened very seriously; this was slightly different from the reasoning he had told Evan earlier.
This slight difference might change the nature of the whole thing.
Evan felt this, too. He felt they could do something with this particular Horcrux.
At least they could learn from him all the secrets about Voldemort before he turned fifteen, but if they wanted to kill Voldemort, they must eventually destroy it.
He didn't know what Dumbledore was thinking, but there should be no doubt about it.
There was another small detail. Tom Riddle was only fifteen years old at the time, but he was already able to use magic outside of school without worrying about being tracked by the Ministry of Magic.
It seemed that the Ministry's monitoring was really useless.
"After knowing these things, you cried out of sadness?" Dumbledore asked softly.
Riddle didn't answer, but Dumbledore still looked at him, and there was an invisible oppression in the air.
"I told you before; it is not something to be ashamed of. Everyone has moments of weakness, feeling sad for lost loved ones. If you ask me, I can tell you, it is love."
"I knew you would say that, Professor!" Riddle's tone was full of mockery. "Love again? I never had such a ridiculous emotion, never, and I am not that weak."
"I always thought you didn't understand. But I have to take back my words now. You once had it, at least when you were fifteen years old, you were not corrupted," said Dumbledore. "It is just that it was hidden very deep, so deep that..."
“That's enough, Dumbledore, if you continue on this boring topic, spreading your ideology, trying to make me admit to some ridiculous love I once had, then just destroy me, I don't care!" he raised his voice again.
"But you cried when you learned about your father and mother's past," Evan reminded him. "Why?"
"I think it is because I knew the truth, I knew my mother was so foolish, a noble pure-blood witch actually gave her life for a filthy Muggle, and she never regretted it until she died, I have never seen such a stupid woman," he said harshly. "I felt sad for what she did at that time.”
