Chapter 625

Is it true that Dumbledore holds the Resurrection Stone? After two weeks went by, Felix received a second file on the soul realm from Dumbledore, and he couldn’t help but think about this question. It was hard to judge much from Dumbledore’s behaviour; he was extremely disciplined in his activities, eating in the great hall in the mornings and occasionally appearing in the Defence Against the Dark Arts class during the day.

“Very good, Riddle, ten points for Slytherin.” Felix said in class, looking at the boy with dark shiny hair in the first row, “You were the first student to successfully turn a match into a pin, any tips?”

The young Tom Riddle stood up.

“One must be familiar with both the object before and after the transfiguration sufficiently.” He said.

“Yes, and who in the class could be more familiar with needlework than an orphan.” One student said in a not-so-loud voice, causing laughter to erupt around the room as the young wizard and his friends unkindly looked at Riddle’s second-hand robes and old textbooks.

“Silence.” Felix said, “I think you all should be ashamed of yourselves, because you cannot change your birth, but the level of effort is something you can decide on your own.” He looked at the expressionless Riddle, “Anything else?”

“I think there is also confidence and skill to be counted, Professor Dumbledore.” Riddle said.

“Accurate enough, please sit down.” Felix leaned on the podium, “Transfiguration is a complex subject, it is more rigorous and scientific than most, and I personally believe that is its advantage.”

“Riddle has just pointed out the way to learn Transfiguration, confidence, skill, and being familiar enough with the transfigured object … the first two can be acquired through training, but if you want to achieve something in the field of Transfiguration, I would like to share what I have learned from experience: keep enough love and curiosity for life …”

The bell rang and the students began to pack up their things.

Felix looked at Tom Riddle, and for some reason, the sunlight shining on him always looked stale, as if it had been extracted from an old photo album. Riddle left the classroom in silence and followed a group of Slytherin students, blocking them in an isolated corner.

“Avery.” Riddle whispered, “You seem to have a problem with the clothes I’m wearing.”

“Oh, piss off, hillbilly.” Avery said mockingly.

“Hillbilly? I expected more harsher words to come out of your mouth, like … mudblood.” Riddle said in an unemotional voice, and for some reason, Avery and a few of his mates suddenly felt out of breath, and Avery stammered a little, “School, school doesn’t allow it.”

“But it doesn’t stop you from using it in private, does it?” Riddle asked in a near whisper, “How else would I know?”

Avery flinched and took a step back, his back pressed against the wall.

“Look, at least I haven’t said it publicly, don’t try to threaten me with telling the Professor, and even if you’re on good terms with Professor Dumbledore-”

“Oh, you’re scared,” Riddle said contemptuously, “Dumbledore takes the side of wizards from Muggle families, so you’ll have to keep your tails between your legs.” Avery’s face reddened with anger but Riddle flashed a smile, “For what it’s worth, the lineage theory has a valid point, I’ve read similar interpretations in muggle books.”

The expressions on Avery and his mate’s faces became puzzled.

“Nobility, that’s what muggles call those of noble blood, more honourable than commoners, fuelled by the exploits of their ancestors, born to do great things, Ollivander the wand seller said that to me–”

“He said that to me too.” Avery grunted.

“And me -”

“Me, too.”

Riddle’s face flushed faintly, a sinister glint flickered in his eyes. He said nonchalantly, “It may be a polite remark, but there is no doubt that I have heard the call from the blood of my ancestors in my body, and I feel that with unmistakable clarity, right here in this school …”

“But you’re an orphan.” Avery pointed out.

“My friend,” Riddle held out his hand, which Avery grasped with some bewilderment, and then his whole body became rigid, unable to move at all. Riddle leaned in closer, and said, close to his ear, “When gold is mixed in the mud, its value will not be any less, but it is those who pass it by without knowing its value are truly pitiable.”

He let go of the hand and tilted his head to size up the astonished Avery, and felt highly satisfied.

“Very well,” Riddle said with ease, “I have heard that Professor Kettleburn got some Ashwinder, would you like to go and see them?”

“We’re only in the first year,” Avery said hesitantly as he felt the physical restraint disappear, “We can’t take his class until the third year.”

Riddle let out a loud snort as he said impatiently, “What’s so difficult about that? All we have to do is walk up to him and say what we want, and honestly, I’m a little worried about what kind of education you’ve received that a simple thing like this could deter you.”

Avery blushed, “Of course, I-I’ve been taught well!”

But Riddle just waved his hand lazily, “Leave the task of introducing ourselves to me, you just need to show a little courage and follow my lead …” his eyes fixed on the few men with menace, “Don’t say you’re afraid to do even that. ”

And so an expedition was finalized, without even a slight risk – Riddle had told them it would be scheduled on a sunny weekend. n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Riddle watched Avery and his mate leave, and his face regained its calm.

At that moment, a sound of applause rang out in the darkness – “Who?” Riddle called out, his eyes squinted at the brown beard that became visible in the darkness, his face quickly becoming courteous, “Professor Dumbledore?”

“Young Tom, you seem to be adjusting well.” Felix appeared with a smile on his face.

A trace of panic flashed in Riddle’s eyes, “You heard everything, sir? I don’t want to justify myself, but,” he said stubbornly, “I have to survive in school first.”

“So you picked up the pedantic theory?” Felix asked gently.

Riddle’s face turned pale.

“Swinging the knife at the weaker, that’s certainly not a bad approach,” Felix said thoughtfully, “I’m more interested in how you plan to subdue Avery and the boys, the Ashwinder serpent … Ah, I see. The Parseltongue.”

“And is there anything you can do to change my situation, sir?” Riddle asked sarcastically, no longer trying to hide it, “A few days after school started, there were people talking about me behind my back, making fun of my robe and my textbooks, what did you say at that time? Study in peace … of course, it’s not like you’ve ever experienced it.”

“On the contrary,” Felix said, “we have quite a few similarities.”

Riddle gave a scrutinizing look as if to judge the truth of the words, and there was no doubt that he had failed once again, not being able to see any semblance of extra emotion in that smiling face, which he couldn’t help but secretly admire while being annoyed inside.

“I was sorted into Gryffindor House at the time, and a year before I enrolled, my father Percival attacked three young Muggles and that story spread everywhere with great fanfare.” Felix said lightly, “People saw me as the son of a muggle hater, deliberately bringing it up in my presence, discussing it with fervour, and even some with ulterior motives highly praised my father for what he had done.”

“Then how did you fight back?” Riddle asked.

“Study in peace.” Felix said with a grin, “Perhaps my following statement would be not quite modest – but I still think I am right – I am gifted and the school curriculum was not even half challenging for me … It only took a few months for me to stand out and people recognized me for my personal qualifications rather than the fact that I have a Muggle-hating father. I didn’t need to please anyone, but I was equally generous in offering help and encouragement to fellow students, and so I made many friends quickly.”

Riddle thought for a moment, then he looked up.

“You know I’ve got an appointment with Avery, sir, and I’m still going to see the Ashwinder.”

“Go on then, Tom. I can’t stop you from making friends.” Felix backed away and disappeared, outside the corridor clouded over at some point, and he knew it would have to end for today.

…

Felix exited classroom seven and returned to his office, looking out the window as an owl flew out. The owl circled over the castle two times before flying straight into the Gryffindor common room.

“You’re finally out, Hermione, why are you so late?” Harry asked, fighting the urge to get up, as he and Ron were fixing the bows on each other’s dresses.

“Just opening presents.” Hermione said briefly, wearing an equally beautiful dress as she did during the ball.

“Did you receive something odd?” Harry asked with interest.

“Lavender gave me a small vial of Love Potion.” Hermione slightly flushed.

Ron coughed violently.

“What the hell?”

Hermione shut her mouth, “Don’t pry.” She gave Ron a fierce glare, then looked at the clothes the two were wearing, “All tidied up? Let’s go.” They made their way downstairs, and on the whole way Ron enquired with interest about the Love Potion, “Who are you going to use it on?” “I threw it away.” Hermione said with a poker face. Ron was deeply skeptical of this claim, but Hermione had raised her wand and threatened to hang him from the balcony and Ron had to shut up.

Harry deeply felt a sense of pity, although he hadn’t said a word, he was still quite curious.

Slughorn’s office was much larger than the average classroom and – it was unclear if he had asked this room to host a party – the ceiling and walls were decorated with emerald green, crimson and gold drapes, and from above their heads came the sound of ethereal singing, a few house elves walking around with dinner trays, and Ron picked up a chicken leg smoothly.

“Glossy and bright, I bet it’s coated in honey.” He said with certainty.

“Harry, my boy!” Slughorn strutted over, beaming, “And Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley, I was just talking to someone about your brother, the youngest Head!” He said to Ron before taking Harry’s hand and walking inside while greeting Hermione and Ron “make yourself home”.

“How did he know Percy became the Head?” Ron muttered in a low voice.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Hermione said, reaching for a glass of mead and taking a small sip. A drunken voice came from near her head. “Darling, I must say this liqueur tastes a little bland.”

Hermione turned around and Trelawney held out an arm that looked like it had been pickled in sherry and rubbed the tip of Hermione’s nose as she took a glass of mead with her.

“Thank you, Professor Trelawney.” Hermione said coldly.

Trelawney remained unfazed as she finished the glass in one gulp and smacked her lips contentedly, “It doesn’t taste too bad, the honey is well spiked.” It was only then she seemed to have finally gotten a good look at Hermione’s face.

“It’s you,” she said drunkenly, “I’m a little sorry you dropped out of my class, mind you, I don’t just teach knowledge, but-” she belched loudly and Hermione furrowed her eyebrows and took a step back. ” Also life lessons … life wisdom and all that, I’ve learned it all on my own, you can’t learn it anywhere else … smooth sailing isn’t always a good thing, I saw it in my crystal ball… . uh, angry faces, wary … about hidden dangers.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow, “Want me to be wary of being hit by a crystal ball in the dark? I’ll keep an eye out, after all, the range isn’t that great.” Ron who was nearby laughed out loud and while Trelawney focused her attention on Ron, she walked away in stride.

On the other side, Harry felt like he was chained to the golden buttons on Slughorn’s velvet gown and carried with him everywhere he went. Before he knew it, he was spinning around the spacious office.

“Have you learned anything yet, Harry?” Slughorn lowered his voice and said in a pushy tone.

“Learned … what?” Harry asked with a gasp, feeling awful, like a monkey on exhibition, with everyone he met wearing a fake smile, even those he thought he knew well – like the Greengrass sisters – putting on a fake face and smiling sweetly at him.

“Making connections.” Slughorn said, “I can see you’re lacking in this area … Didn’t your godfather teach you about this?”

“Uh, he’s usually busy.” Harry stammered.

“How unbecoming,” Slughorn said as he shook his head, then said with some enthusiasm, “It’s a bit presumptuous, but perhaps I should write him a letter, the last heir of the ancient House of Black … ”

Harry stared, suspecting that Professor Slughorn was just looking for a reason to get involved with the Black family.

At that moment, two men walked past the corner they were hiding before, and Slughorn nimbly reached out his chubby arm, only to fetch air, but the arm kept going and in a flash encircled the one slightly further away from him, yanking him forcibly over.

Harry mentally exclaimed that this move would rate as one of the top ten Quidditch saves of the year.

Valen, standing on Felix’s shoulder, patted her chest heartily and glanced somewhat sympathetically at the cornered Harry as Felix walked over and stood in front of the immobile Snape, his mouth curling into a pleasant curve.

“Severus! Felix!” Slughorn called out happily, one arm wrapped around Snape with a death grip. “Almost missed you guys! I’ve just taken Harry for a walk, and you’re welcome, I’ve heard that you two are close to Harry – I was just about to speak to him, if he’s planning to go into politics -”

“I – have no intention – of going into politics.” Harry said with annoyance, struggling desperately. Because Slughorn kept trying to grab him over and bring him closer to Snape.

Slughorn held up a chubby finger, “But you want to be an Auror, don’t you? Minerva told me about it, she thinks well of you and speaks highly of you … but you can’t spend all your life catching dark wizards, can you? Severus, try to persuade him.”

Snape narrowed his eyes as if he is looking at a dead man and said calmly, “I never knew I had this kind of influence over Potter.”

“Don’t say that, Severus.” Slughorn said with a big smile, Harry knew he had drank a lot and was now in a state of hyperactivity, “I saw him use your old textbook, yes I recognized your handwriting instantly, it was particularly scribbled, and I even criticized you back then about it…”

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