[HP] The Elegance of the Night

In the Hogwarts principal's room, 28-year-old Voldemort sat on the chair opposite Dumbledore. Their conversation was not pleasant. He sipped the wine that Dumbledore handed him, put down the glass lightly, smiled gracefully, and looked at nothing I couldn't come out and was mercilessly ridiculed by the old man opposite.

It was ten years ago that he left Hogwarts. At the age of 18, he did not get the position of professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts because of Dumbledore's interference. Ten years later, he stepped into Hogwarts again for the purpose of Reapplying for a position that was denied at the time as too young to hold.

"...Let's talk about it, why did you bring your men here tonight to apply for a job that you and I both know you don't want?" Dumbledore said, the atmosphere of their conversation before was already full of gunpowder.

Facing Dumbledore's straightforwardness, Voldemort showed cold surprise.

"A job I don't want? On the contrary, Dumbledore, I want it badly."

"Oh, you want to go back to Hogwarts, but you don't really want to teach any more than you do. What do you want, Tom? Why can't you just be honest?"

"If you don't want to give me a job—"

"Of course not," said Dumbledore, "and I don't think you expected me to give it to you. But you came anyway, you made an application, and you must have something in mind."

"Is this your final decision?" Voldemort stood up, scowling.

"Yes." Dumbledore also stood up.

"Then we have nothing to talk about."

"No," said Dumbledore, with deep sorrow on his face. "The time is past when I could frighten you with a burning wardrobe and force you to atone. But I wish I could, Tom ... I wish I could ... "

Voldemort's hand suddenly moved to the wand in his pocket... but the moment was over, and he turned away, slamming the door behind him.

He walked out of the headmaster's office alone. Although he had already expected this result, he still wanted to give it a try. Dumbledore said that he didn't understand love, and that kind of boring things could only kill his will.

One thing Dumbledore was right about was that he called those Death Eaters friends, but he really only regarded them as subordinates. His feelings for Hogwarts were real, and this was the only place where he felt tender.

It was holiday time now, there were no students in the Hogwarts castle, the corridors were empty, the cold wind blowing in was icy cold, it was time for him to go back, the group of people were still waiting for him at the Pig's Head Bar.

"Young man, come to Hogwarts without looking at me, how about having a drink with me." He met Horace Slughorn at the door, his potions professor and Slytherin house Dean. "I remember you changed your name, now it's Voldemort?"

"Yes, Professor." He smiled, regal in the way Slughorn liked to see people, especially his students, the head of Slytherin was vain and indulgent.

At this time, the youth's pupils were not as red as they were later, the whites of his eyes were bloodshot, and his face was as white as snowflakes falling on the black cloak.

Slughorn poured him a glass of oak-aged mead, which he specially used to entertain distinguished guests, and he was reluctant to drink it at ordinary times. The young Voldemort thanked him. Laghorn invited him to drink just to see his potential, and he has been in the limelight recently.

It was Slughorn's style to first establish a good relationship with a wizard who might become a big shot in the future.

The head Slytherin's office was next to the Potions classroom in the basement. The room was tidy, and the bottles of potions were neatly placed on the shelves, beautiful and dazzling.

His room is not like other potions masters, who always throw materials everywhere. Slughorn's potions skills are superb, but he doesn't have the research spirit of other masters. Potions are his capital to show off. Not all of him.

"It's a great collection, I haven't seen it in ten years, and the teacher's skills are even more superb." The young Voldemort praised sincerely, even if he didn't come from the heart, but his superficial skills were very good, and Slughorn laughed happily .

"Actually, I have better things, but I don't show them lightly." Although there were only the two of them in the office, Slughorn leaned into Voldemort's ear and whispered mysteriously, "They will make people crazy." .”

"I'm curious, can I have a look, sir? It must be a great work." The young Voldemort complimented, his voice full of bewitching.

Slughorn agreed. In fact, the purpose of his speaking was to let Voldemort see his collection, know how superb his potion skills are, and maybe he will think of him when he needs it, honor, rights, etc. There is never enough for less, and Slughorn was no exception, he wanted more...

Slughorn showed his secret collection, and Tom had never known that there was another room in the Dean's Room.Slughorn, who has been in the office for 25 years, said he stumbled upon it.

Voldemort looked at the row of shelves in the collection room. There were not many potions on them, but they all exuded intoxicating and unusual magic power.

"What's this bottle?" He pointed to a glass bottle, where the silver potion was flowing and shining.

"Youth Elixir, don't look at its silly name, one of its raw materials is unicorn blood." Slughorn said excitedly.

"Oh, what a marvelous thing, you mean unicorn blood, it's not cursed."

"Of course not. There is always a way to get it. These are all finished products, perfect." Slughorn eagerly clarified his potion with pride in his tone.

Voldemort asked about several more medicines. He had a good vision, and each medicine made Slughorn more proud to introduce.

"What is this bottle?" He had already asked all the medicines on the shelf, and finally pointed to a bottle with a strange shape. It was not made of glass, but a silver porcelain bottle. It was impossible to see what was in it. Tom I feel that it is different and has a great attraction for him...

"This is the soul potion—" Slughorn said obsessively. "It is my most outstanding work, but I cannot publish it to the world."

"Its function is to repair the soul," said Slughorn. Everyone knows that killing people can split the soul. Wizards fear the incompleteness of the soul after death. This is a restraint to reduce crime in the magical world. Going out, he gets the honor and becomes a sinner at the same time.

"Repair the soul—" Voldemort was very interested in this, he gently held it in his hand, and a red light flashed in his eyes.

Slughorn suddenly regretted it, and his vanity made him speak quickly, how could he forget that his student was not the respectful boy he had been ten years ago.

"Interesting thing, Professor." Although he held it for a long time, Voldemort put it back in place, and Slughorn breathed a sigh of relief.

He was about to speak when a sudden dizziness hit him, and he fell to the ground and lost consciousness.Young Voldemort took out the bottle again, rubbing his hand against the stone wall revealed behind the shelf, where a tiny snake was carved.

"Open!" he said, a strange hissing sound that would have been heard if anyone had been around.

The above process was summed up in Tom's words by accidentally discovering the secret room. Although our old headmaster wanted to know the exact location of the secret room, it was a matter of privacy, and the great Dark Lord was silent about it.

"So you found the Chamber of Secrets? Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets?" Phineas Nigellus Black asked with interest, "Let me guess what's in it, huge wealth, precious magic books, The lost potion?"

Tom smiled at the portrait, he shook his head, the corners of his mouth twitched with fear, until now he regretted opening that secret room.

If everything could be done again, he wished he had never been to Hogwarts, never met that old bald Horace Slughorn, let alone had a drink with him. ...

"It's none of what you said. That's Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets, not the Gringotts opened by those greedy goblins." Facing the old headmaster's eager and enthusiastic gaze, our Dark Lord didn't pretend to be a secret, and directly gave He got the answer he wanted to know, "There are only portraits there, and nothing else."

"Portrait—" Phineas Nigellus Black made no secret of his disappointment. The greater the expectation, the greater the disappointment.The legendary Slytherin is rich and powerful. When the Big Four decided to establish a wizarding school that cultivated and corrected the words and deeds of wizards, Hogwarts Castle was provided by Slytherin. These "A School History of Hogwarts" There are introductions in it. According to legend, Slytherin left a lot of precious treasures. Now his heir has found a secret room with only portraits. The legend is not credible.

"Is there really only a portrait? Is there anything else special?" The old headmaster asked unwillingly. Since it is a secret room, there should be something different.

"It is true that there are only portraits. Merlin, I am telling the truth." The Dark Lord said sincerely. There are indeed only portraits, but there are many, many portraits. They are standing or sitting, or walking or running, all of which are his. Ancestors - Salazar Slytherin!