Hogwarts: I am Voldemort

Voldemort returned to Hogwarts with great joy.

If Quirrell was asked to tell all this too early, he would definitely not have so many insights.

Not only that, being able to catch a glimpse of Grindelwald also made Voldemort satisfied - the remnant soul may not have such thoughts.

"Quirrell?"

The satisfied Voldemort was stopped by the sudden sound - he was careless and got carried away.

"Headmaster Dumbledore."

Voldemort turned around and showed a tired smile - of course he was not tired, but he wanted to pretend to give him space to think.

"You look very tired. Do you have something wrong when you come to me so late?" Dumbledore asked.

Thank you for rescuing me... Voldemort thought to himself as he pulled out his foot that had already entered the stairs.

"I have checked a lot of information about what I saw that day." Voldemort said as he walked towards Dumbledore, "I think I have something I need to ask you for advice."

"Don't talk here." Dumbledore shook his gorgeous cloak, which still had snowflakes on it. "It's too cold. Let's go inside and talk."

He said, letting the stone statue in front of the principal's office jump away, and then led Voldemort upstairs.

"call."

Lighting the fireplace with a silent spell, Dumbledore asked Voldemort what he wanted to drink.

"Hot chocolate, Principal, I think you have led me astray." Voldemort had adjusted his mentality, and he even smiled at the portraits of the principal in the principal's office.

"My mother never liked us eating too many desserts." Dumbledore said while conjuring a drink, "But in my later years, I gained freedom."

Voldemort nodded, not joking about the matter.

Dumbledore's mother died very young, so he obviously didn't need to be freed only in his later years. Old Bee's words were talking about his longing for his mother, and his words were always meaningful.

"Smart boy, what are you confusing?" Dumbledore conjured two lounge chairs in front of the fireplace, then took off his snow-dyed cloak and sat on them with hot chocolate.

At his signal, Voldemort lay down comfortably on it and spoke slowly.

He began to talk about his speculation about the "Grindelwald gas hood" to question whether his understanding of "giving thoughts to magic" was correct.

Dumbledore praised his intelligence and engaged in a discussion with him, concluding by reiterating the dangers of "giving thoughts to magic."

"With my simple wisdom, I still cannot understand such harm." He said, "But Mr. Grindelwald's words are really contagious."

"Compared to Voldemort, he is still inferior." Dumbledore said leisurely.

Voldemort pretended to shudder - he felt out of place otherwise - and said in an incredulous tone: "How is that possible?"

"I don't have to lie to you, kid, they are two different people."

Dumbledore's tone was still relaxed. He didn't even look at Voldemort and just said to himself, "Voldemort will be remembered by dark magic, but Grindelwald will be remembered by history."

These words made him sad. He had the remnant soul of Voldemort and felt that he was despised.

"If he will be remembered by history, why is his appeal not as good as that person?" Voldemort asked doubtfully (unconvinced).

"Child, there is a difference between charisma and magic. Grindelwald never bothered to use that method. He is thoughtful."

Dumbledore finally looked at Voldemort, but what he said was even more hurtful.

"Oh, I see."

Although he was clearly dissatisfied, he still nodded in agreement. Voldemort felt that his heart was bleeding, and he regretted following him.

"What's wrong with you? You don't seem to be in good condition." Dumbledore asked.

"Thinking about the nature of magic makes me very tired." He made an excuse.

Dumbledore nodded, took a sip of hot chocolate and asked, "How is it? Did you get anything?"

Voldemort smiled awkwardly. He had only seen what he could gain today.

"It's hard for me to understand that kind of love..." Voldemort said thoughtfully.

Dumbledore nodded. It seemed that he didn't think Voldemort could understand. In other words, he didn't think Quirrell could understand.

"Can you tell me how you did it?"

Voldemort became interested again and half stood up and asked, "Let the transformed items have the ability to use magic. Oh my god, before that, I couldn't even imagine it."

"In fact, I can't do it anymore." Dumbledore said with some regret.

Voldemort was stunned, this was something he had not expected.

"Since you have checked Grindelwald's information, I think you also know about my past."

"Which part?" Voldemort asked.

Of course he knew about Dumbledore's past, but for someone over a hundred years old, his past was too much, and Voldemort had to be precise about the time.

"The time when my mother died." Dumbledore made his chair move. He looked very leisurely, but his voice was quite heavy.

"I know," Voldemort replied.

"At that time, I hated Muggles and resented the Ministry of Magic. As a sixteen or seventeen-year-old child, it was really difficult for me to do better when my father entered Azkaban and my mother suddenly passed away."

Voldemort nodded, he knew that history.

Because his sister was bullied by three Muggles, his parents stepped forward to teach the Muggles a lesson. As a result... his father entered Azkaban.

Because of this incident, my sister was extremely emotionally unstable. In the end, her magic power rioted and she accidentally killed her mother... The tragedy was one after another, and did not give the young Dumbledore any chance to breathe.

Perhaps the arrival of Grindelwald relieved his emotions, which is one of the reasons why the two have been entangled in love and hate throughout their lives.

Think about yourself again, how could you be miserable in the orphanage? It's just you, there is no Grindelwald of your own.

"In that case, Grindelwald taught me what to put into magic."

Dumbledore spoke slowly, as memories seemed to enter his young mind.

"I instinctively peeped into the trouble that thoughts entered. Black magic has long proved this, and I finally chose love. As you can see, I transformed my mother. I even believed that there was a trace of her in it. Dead souls.”

Voldemort nodded, looked sideways at Dumbledore, and found that there were tears in the corners of the old man's eyes - he suddenly felt strange that Dumbledore was actually chatting with him.

Yes, although the core of the chat revolved around magic, Voldemort had long discovered that Dumbledore's emotions were not here.

He looked a little sad and not as sharp as before. He noticed it from the first time they met, which made him a little strange.

As if he noticed Voldemort's gaze and confusion, he turned and smiled at Voldemort, which made tears roll down, but the old man didn't feel embarrassed at all.

"I went to Nurmengard and just took a look at it from a distance." After he finished speaking, he added another unnecessary word, "The knowledge I shared with you that day reminded me of this old friend."

"Well...it can be seen that he has a great influence on you." Voldemort didn't know what to say.

Dumbledore nodded and said, "Yes, he inspired my magic. I think that is also meaningful to you, right?"

Voldemort looked at Dumbledore and saw infinite reminiscence in his eyes as he looked towards the roof.

Maybe when people get old, they can't help but recall the glorious past, just like Moody... Voldemort thought and nodded.