Harry Potter’s Defense Professor

"You mean he likes to bully people?" Dumbledore asked.

"I think so," Mrs Cole said, frowning slightly, "but it's hard to catch him on the spot. There's been some accidents...some bad things..."

Dumbledore didn't rush her, but Lockhart could see he was interested. Mrs Cole took another gulp of gin and the blush deepened on her cheeks.

"Billy Stubbs' rabbit...yes, Tom said he didn't do it, and I don't think he could have done it, but that being said, the rabbit wouldn't hang himself from the beam, would it? "

"Yeah, I don't think so either," said Dumbledore softly.

"But I can't figure out how he got up there to do it. All I know is that he had a fight with Billy the day before. And then—" Mrs Cole took another swig Gin, this time spilling some on the chin, "Summer outings -- you know, once a year. We take them out to the countryside or the sea -- and since then, Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop It just wasn't quite right, we asked and they just said they were in a cave with Tom Riddle. Tom swore they were exploring, but something must have happened in there. I'm sure. Besides There are many, many things, strange and strange..."

"That's the cave I took Gilderoy to, and now we're almost certain there's a Horcrux hidden there."

"Don't take it out yet?" Lupin asked curiously.

"I'm going to let Harry read all the memories and let him get them. This is his destiny." Dumbledore glanced at Black. "It's time for him to know this."

Blake nodded, but said nothing.

Mrs Cole looked at Dumbledore again, her cheeks flushed but her eyes calm.

"I think a lot of people would applaud him when he left here."

"I'm sure you understand that we're not going to keep him at school all the time," said Dumbledore. "At least he'll be back here every summer."

"Oh, no problem, that's better than being sniffed with a rusty poker," Mrs Cole said, burping lightly. She rose to her feet, and Lockhart was surprised to find that her legs were still on hold, even though the bottle was two-thirds less gin. "I guess you'd really like to see him?"

"I really want to." Dumbledore said and stood up.

Mrs. Cole led him out of the office and up the stone stairs, shouting orders and accusations to her helpers and children as she went. The orphans can be seen in uniform grey corsets. They all appear to be reasonably well cared for, but there is no doubt that growing up in this place is brooding and depressing.

"We're here," said Mrs. Cole, and they turned a corner on the third-floor landing and stopped at the door of the first room in a long corridor. She knocked on the door twice and walked in.

"Tom? Someone came to see you. This is Mr. Dumbleton—excuse me, it's Mr. Dumbleton. He came to tell you—well, let him tell you himself."

Several people and the two Dumbledores entered the room, with Mrs Cole closing the door behind them. It was an empty, unadorned hut, just an old wardrobe and an iron bed. A boy is sitting on a grey blanket with his long legs outstretched in front of him, reading a book in his hand.

There was no trace of the Gaunt family in Tom Riddle's face. Merope's last words came true: he was a miniature version of his handsome father. He was tall for an eleven-year-old, with dark hair and a pale complexion. He narrowed his eyes slightly, gazing at Dumbledore's strange appearance and attire. No one spoke for a while.

"Hello, Tom." Dumbledore said, stepping forward and extending his hand.

"She looks very handsome..." Tonks said. "Now she's turned into a ghost like that?"

"Black magic... Obviously he sacrificed a lot in pursuit of power, but it seems that he doesn't care what he looks like, as long as the power is strong."

The boy hesitated, then reached out and shook it. Young Dumbledore pulled a stiff wooden chair next to Riddle so that the two of them looked like a hospital patient and a visitor.

"I'm Professor Dumbledore."

"'Professor'?" Riddle repeated, looking wary. "Is it like a 'doctor'? What are you doing here? Did she ask you to check on me?"

He pointed to the door where Mrs. Cole had just left.

"No, no," said Dumbledore, smiling.

"I don't believe you," Riddle said. "She wants someone to see me, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"

The last three words he said fiercely and loudly, with a terrifying momentum. It was an order, and it seemed he had given it many times before. He suddenly opened his eyes wide and stared sternly at Dumbledore, who did not answer, but continued to smile amiably. After a few seconds, Riddle's eyes relaxed, but he seemed more alert.

"Who are you?"

"I've told you. I'm Professor Dumbledore, and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I've come to invite you to my school—your new school, if you will. ."

Hearing this, Riddle's reaction was greatly unexpected. He jumped up from the bed and backed away from Dumbledore, looking extremely annoyed.

"You can't lie to me! You're from an asylum, aren't you? 'Professor', huh, that's right - tell you, I'm not going, understand? That damn old hag is supposed to go to the asylum. I didn't think about Amy Benson Jr. and Dennis Bishop at all, you can ask them yourself and they'll tell you!"

"I'm not from a lunatic asylum," said Dumbledore patiently. "I'm a teacher, and I'll tell you about Hogwarts, if you can sit down. Of course, if you don't want to. No one will force you to go to that school—"

"I'd like to see who dares!" said Riddle contemptuously.

"Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on, as though not to hear Riddle's last words, "is a school for people of exceptional talent—"

"I'm not crazy!"

"I know you're not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for madmen, it's a school of magic."

silence. Riddle was stunned, his face expressionless, but his eyes flicked quickly between Dumbledore's eyes, as if trying to see through one of them that he was lying.

"Magic?" he repeated softly.

"Not bad," said Dumbledore.

"Those abilities of mine are... are they magic?"

"What skills do you have?"

"Various," Riddle said in a low voice, a flush of excitement spreading rapidly from his neck to his sunken cheeks. He looked excited. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I tell them to do without training. I can bring bad luck to anyone who annoys me. I can injure them if I want to."

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

"I knew I was different," he said to his shaking hands. "I knew I was special. I knew there was something here."

"Yes, you're right," Dumbledore said. He smiled and looked at Riddle intently. "You're a wizard."

"He's really no different from an ordinary kid," Lupin said, and Tonks had to nod his head to admit, "it's just that he has a bad temper."

Riddle looked up. His face changed at once: there was a frenzied joy. However, somehow, instead of making him look better, his delicate features suddenly became rough, and he looked like a beast.

"Are you a wizard too?"

"Yes. "

"Prove it to me," Riddle said immediately, in a tone as domineering as the "Tell the truth" just now.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

"If, as I understand it, you agree to study at Hogwarts—"

"Of course I agree!"

"Then you'll call me 'professor' or 'sir'."

Riddle's expression froze for a moment, and then he suddenly said in a tone of politeness that was like no other: "I'm sorry, sir. I mean--Professor, can you show me--?"

"No, he's still a little different, he'll cover up," Blake corrected the others.

Dumbledore drew his wand from the inner pocket of his suit, pointed at the battered wardrobe in the corner, and waved it casually.

The wardrobe burst into flames at once, and Riddle jumped to his feet, presumably all his belongings were in that wardrobe. However, just as Riddle was about to ask Dumbledore his guilt, the flames suddenly disappeared, leaving the wardrobe intact.

Riddle looked at the closet, then at Dumbledore, then, pointing at the wand, his expression became greedy.

"Where can I get one?"

"There will be at that time," said Dumbledore. "It looks like something in your closet wants to get out."

Sure enough, there was a faint clicking sound coming from the closet. For the first time, Riddle looked panicked.

"Open the door," said Dumbledore.

Riddle hesitated, then walked over and slammed the closet door open. Several worn clothes hang on the clothes rail, and on the top shelf above is a small cardboard box that is shaking and clicking, and seems to contain a few crazy mice. .