"All the details are written on the second parchment in the envelope. You will depart from King's Cross Station on the first of September. There is also a ticket inside."
In a small room, a young Dumbledore, dressed in an elegant fuchsia velvet suit, sat on the only stool.
Opposite him was a handsome boy, slightly taller than most his age, with dark hair and a pale complexion.
In the boy's hands was an envelope emblazoned with the symbols of a lion, a snake, an eagle, and a badger.
Seeing this, Harry couldn't help but think to himself: If Dumbledore hadn't delivered Hogwarts' enrollment notice to this boy that day, would none of the events that followed have happened?
He instinctively reached out for the envelope, but his hand passed straight through it.
Of course, Harry couldn't touch anything here; they were merely spectators, observing one of Dumbledore's memories.
The young boy seated before them was Voldemort—though at this time, he was still called Tom Riddle.
…
Riddle did not rush to open the envelope or read its contents. Instead, he fixed his sharp gaze on Dumbledore.
"Is it normal for a wizard to be able to talk to snakes? For snakes to find me and whisper to me when we go hiking in the countryside?"
Hearing the boy's question, Harry instinctively turned to look at the young Dumbledore, as though waiting for an answer himself.
Coincidentally, Harry could also speak to snakes—a rare ability in the wizarding world known as Parseltongue. Parseltongue wasn't a common gift, and Harry could only think of a few individuals known for it. The most notable was Salazar Slytherin, one of the four founders of Hogwarts, and, later, Voldemort.
Harry couldn't help but recall his second year, when so many had suspected him of being Slytherin's heir after he had unintentionally revealed his ability.
"It's rare," Dumbledore replied after a moment's hesitation, "but not unheard of."
The older Dumbledore standing beside Harry in the memory added, "Talent never defines whether a person is good or evil. It's more like an unusual birthday gift."
He smiled slightly before continuing, "Take Nymphadora Tonks, for example. She's a Metamorphmagus—a rare talent in the wizarding world. Honestly, being a Metamorphmagus might suit a dark wizard even more than Parseltongue, yet she chose to become an Auror."
"And while she may not have been the most dependable in every situation… there's no doubt she was a good, kind-hearted witch."
"Yeah," Harry said with a small smile, thinking back to something Fred and George had once told him.
Despite being a skilled Auror, Tonks had been the last to notice something was wrong with Katie Bell when she had been cursed. The twins had ranted about it for half an hour, insisting Tonks had been "off her game."
Harry turned back to Dumbledore. "Professor," he asked hesitantly, "did you ever worry about Riddle's ability to speak Parseltongue?"
"Not particularly," Dumbledore said, shaking his head. "What concerned me more was his nature—his cruelty, his cunning, his natural inclination toward domination. Even at that young age, he already had a dangerously complete understanding of his magical abilities."
"He'd discovered how to control magic on his own and had begun using it consciously. Even if he hadn't attended Hogwarts, I have no doubt he would have become a powerful wizard. The question was always what kind of wizard he would choose to be."
Harry said nothing, mulling over Dumbledore's words. He remembered how Tom Riddle had noticed his own differences by the age of eleven and had already begun experimenting with his magic.
Eleven years old...
Wait.
Harry's mind raced back to his own childhood. Hadn't he accidentally locked Dudley in the snake enclosure at the zoo when he was around that age? Back then, he hadn't even realized what he'd done.
"Kyle," Harry asked suddenly, turning to his friend, "did you know you could use magic before you turned eleven?"
Kyle blinked, giving Harry a look of disbelief. "Do you hear yourself right now?"
"Er…"
Harry froze for a moment before slapping his forehead. Of course Kyle had known—both his parents were wizards, and the Weasleys were their neighbors. In that kind of environment, it would've been stranger if Kyle hadn't known about magic.
"We should probably leave now," the older Dumbledore interjected with a small smile, rescuing Harry from further embarrassment.
A moment later, the memory faded, the room and the boys disappearing in a blur of light. Harry, Kyle, and Dumbledore found themselves back in the Headmaster's Office.
"Sit down," Dumbledore said, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk.
"Harry, what do you think of Tom Riddle?"
"Very clever," Harry replied without hesitation.
Even at the age of eleven, Tom Riddle had shown a maturity far beyond his years. His calm demeanor, his sharp questions—even his ability to wield Parseltongue—seemed like deliberate attempts to intimidate Dumbledore and assert control over the situation.
As much as Harry didn't want to admit it, young Riddle was extraordinary. The kind of prodigious child you'd hear about only in someone else's family.
…
Kyle knew that this was Dumbledore's way of letting Harry learn as much as possible about Voldemort, so he could identify his weaknesses. So, he sat quietly on the sidelines, with no intention of interrupting.
But just sitting there grew a bit dull, so he waved at Fawkes. The Phoenix immediately flew over and landed on his lap.
Kyle pulled out a handful of herbs and fed them to Fawkes while gently stroking its feathers, all the while listening to Dumbledore's commentary on Voldemort.
"Riddle hated his name, as you may have noticed, and was furious when I mentioned that the owner of the Leaky Cauldron also happened to be called Tom... This shows his contempt for anything that made him seem ordinary."
"He was also extremely self-confident, liked to do everything himself, and refused my offer to accompany him to Diagon Alley. Voldemort was the same as an adult: he had no friends."
"Wait, Professor," Harry interrupted. "But the Death Eaters..."
"They weren't really friends, Harry," Dumbledore replied. "To Voldemort, the Death Eaters were just a means of saving time, a Self-Writing Quill he could replace whenever he liked."
"Voldemort fooled them, made them believe they were trusted, but he never had a friend—and I don't think he ever needed one."
…
Dumbledore spoke for a long time, and it wasn't until half an hour later, just before curfew, that he finally finished, leaving Harry looking confused. Although Harry didn't fully understand why Dumbledore was sharing all of this, he absorbed every word, just as he had been instructed to do.
"Alright, Harry, it's really time for bed."
Harry stood up and walked toward the door but stopped halfway.
"What is it, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.
"Professor," Harry asked hesitantly, "are there really Aurors who can speak Parseltongue?"
"I understand your question, and you're right to want proof, but I must correct you: not all good-hearted wizards are Aurors."
Dumbledore thought for a moment. "I know someone who can understand the language of all magical creatures, including snakes, and can even talk to them like friends."
"All magical creatures?" Harry couldn't stop smiling in amazement.
"Yes, all." Dumbledore glanced at Kyle deliberately.
Kyle simply sat there calmly, as if he hadn't heard... In truth, he hadn't heard at all, because he was fast asleep, as if he were in a History of Magic class, with Fawkes perched on his lap, its neck and wings drooping as it also dozed off.
Dumbledore's eye twitched. In all his years as a professor, this was the first time a student had been so arrogant in his presence.
"Impressive," Harry said, smacking his lips. "I bet he got an O in Care of Magical Creatures."
"It's not an exaggeration to say he ranks first in the entire school, even among the professors," Dumbledore said, taking a deep breath.
At this point, Harry also noticed Kyle's unusual behavior... He was sleeping soundly. Harry couldn't help but think, as he poked Kyle's back in response to Dumbledore's increasingly odd gaze.
"Well, good night, Professor," Harry said after doing so, before turning and walking toward the door.
After he left, Kyle stirred and woke up.
"Huh? Finished?" Kyle rubbed his eyes and looked at Dumbledore.
In response, Dumbledore simply asked, "Why are you still here?"
The tone was like he was addressing an unwelcome guest.
"Huh?" Kyle blinked, trying to wake up fully.
This was strange. Hadn't Dumbledore wanted him to stay? Now he was asking why he was still there.
If it hadn't been for Dumbledore's request, Kyle would have long since returned to the warm common room. Why was he still here listening to him talk about Tom Riddle? After all, he'd already heard all of this... more than once.
Every time Dumbledore spoke about Voldemort, he had to mention the same things again, and Kyle was growing tired of hearing it.
Kyle stood up to leave but, still groggy, forgot that Fawkes was still perched on his lap...
Without warning, the Phoenix dropped straight to the floor and, in anger, began pecking at Kyle's shin.
"Oh, sorry, Fawkes!" Kyle apologized hastily. "It was Dumbledore who told me to get up, you know, I just fell asleep!"
Upon hearing this, Fawkes immediately shifted its target and flew over to begin pecking at Dumbledore's beard.
The headmaster's office suddenly became lively and chaotic, even the portraits on the walls, unable to keep pretending to sleep, opened their eyes.
Phineas Black watched the scene: Dumbledore being pecked all over by the Phoenix, while Kyle walked out of the door as if nothing had happened. Unable to hold back, he spoke up.
"Huh, so this is the kind wizard with a good heart Dumbledore was talking about?"
"Er..." the person next to him hesitated for a moment. "Maybe the person Albus was referring to was his father. I remember his name was Chris, the director of the Ministry of Magic's Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures."
"I've seen him a few times in my portrait at the Ministry of Magic. He's a typical Hufflepuff."
…
On the other side, Kyle, who had just left the headmaster's office, was unaware that the portraits were talking about him behind his back. He stretched and rubbed his leg, still sore from Fawkes's pecking.
"Kyle, are you okay?" Harry's voice came from nearby. He had been waiting there the whole time.
"I'm fine, just a few pecks from Fawkes." Kyle lifted his robe to reveal his bruised and battered lower leg. I should mention it's quite painful when a Phoenix pecks you.
"What, Professor Dumbledore let a Phoenix peck you?" Harry exclaimed in surprise. He had thought that Kyle would at most receive some demerits, but he never imagined the headmaster would punish students in this way.
He had been pecked by Hedwig once, and it had hurt for half the day—not to mention a Phoenix. Wasn't this a bit too much?
"Huh? No!" Kyle shook his head. "I accidentally dropped Fawkes on the ground."
Kyle waved his hand, clearly not wanting to continue the conversation, and instead asked, "Why are you still here?"
"I was waiting for you." Harry had wanted to ask Kyle what Dumbledore had meant by all that earlier, but then he remembered how Kyle had fallen asleep and stayed quiet.
Forget it. I'll ask Hermione and the others when we get back.
"I'm fine, don't worry," Kyle said, waving his hand.
The two parted ways in the next corridor: Harry heading back to the Gryffindor common room, and Kyle heading downstairs.
…
Ten minutes later, curfew arrived.
A figure quickly crossed the quiet corridor on the eighth floor and stopped in front of the stone statue of a stonefish with a water spout. As if anticipating someone's arrival, the statue didn't even ask for the password before shifting aside, revealing the passage behind it. Light from the headmaster's office illuminated the visitor's face.
It was Snape, who had returned and walked in, pushing open the oak door behind him.
"Dumbledore, I've already... What's wrong with you?"
Snape's words were cut short when he suddenly noticed something was amiss in the room. Dumbledore's hair was disheveled, as if he had just been attacked, and there was silver-white stuff scattered all over the place. Snape picked one up and examined it closely. It looked like a beard?
"What happened here?" he asked, unable to hide his confusion. "Did the Dark Lord attack you?"
"Worse than that…" Dumbledore sighed as he gazed at the scattered beard, a look of sadness crossing his face. "How did it go over there?"
Snape didn't press for details and simply said, "I've already talked to Draco, and he seems a bit dissatisfied."
"Yes, I can understand that." Dumbledore waved his wand, and the headmaster's office was instantly clean and tidy again.
"After all, it was the first time he was entrusted with an important task. Naturally, he wanted to do a good job."
"Entrust him with a task?" Snape sneered. "The Dark Lord never intended for him to survive. That was his punishment for Lucius Malfoy! What a ridiculous task—to make Draco kill you. Even he couldn't do it."
"It's not impossible…" Dumbledore chuckled. "Just because Tom couldn't do it doesn't mean everyone can't. You know, I never keep my guard up in front of my students."
As he said this, Dumbledore suddenly thought of something and touched the small patch of beard he had left. He realized that this was not a good habit and should try to break it if he got the chance… At least, he would need to remain vigilant when dealing with certain students.
"So, how did your chat go?" Dumbledore continued. "Did he agree with your suggestion?"
"He shouldn't take any more rash actions," Snape replied.
"That's good," Dumbledore said. "The boy's soul has not been completely corrupted by the darkness. There is still time to turn him back."
"You mean when he abandoned the plan at the last minute and knocked Katie over?" Snape asked.
"That was only part of it, the most obvious manifestation," Dumbledore answered. "Severus, who do you think planned this? The young Mr. Malfoy?"
"Draco did buy the Opal Necklace," Snape replied after a moment's silence. "But this morning, Narcissa left the Malfoy Manor, and no one knows where she went."
"Really?" Dumbledore glanced out the window. "It seems Minerva was right. I really shouldn't have agreed to let the students go to Hogsmeade at this time."
"Severus, could you please pay more attention to Mr. Malfoy from now on?"
"I'm sure I can manage," Snape said. "But on the other side, he was attacked for no reason. Do you think he'll let it go?"
"Don't worry about that. I'll find another opportunity to talk to Kyle." Dumbledore took off his glasses and wiped them.
He had asked Kyle to stay behind this time because of this matter. It would be impossible to let him completely let it go, but Dumbledore felt that if he hinted at it himself, he could always make him somewhat more restrained.
After all, the two sides were too far apart. If Kyle really wanted to deal with Malfoy, then he wouldn't even have the room to resist… Umbridge at St. Mungo's was the perfect example.
However, no one expected that there would be a small incident in the middle, and before he could bring it up, he had been interrupted.
Dumbledore once again ran his hand through his beard. For a moment, he even wondered if Kyle had deliberately avoided letting him bring up the subject, but upon further thought, he felt that was too far-fetched.