People of different races could argue for thousands of years, let alone wizards and Muggles, who were more like different species.
"This is your challenge." Dumbledore smiled at Vincent. "Tom's idea is very simple and direct: enslave Muggles, just as other magical creatures are enslaved."
Vincent thought of the Wizards' Purity Party.
Perhaps a leader was the most suitable person after all.
If Grindelwald had not gone to extremes back then, perhaps the conditions suitable for Voldemort's survival would never have emerged.
"Professor, I think I can see a vague answer."
"Keep going, and you will eventually find the complete answer."
Mrs. Cole drained a full glass of gin, and the young Dumbledore immediately struck while the iron was hot.
"Could you tell me about Tom Riddle's background? He was born in this orphanage, wasn't he?"
"That's right." Mrs. Cole poured herself another glass of gin. "I remember it clearly. It was my first New Year's Eve after I started working here.
"It was snowing outside, cold as anything. That girl was not much older than me, and she staggered up the front steps."
"Sigh—things like this happened to us all the time."
Mrs. Cole's gaze turned sorrowful. "We helped her inside, and she gave birth less than an hour later.
"Less than another hour after that, she died." Another full glass of gin was emptied.
"Did she say anything before she died?" Dumbledore's expression remained calm. "For example, about the boy's father."
"Yes, she did." Mrs. Cole picked up the whole bottle of gin. "I remember her saying she hoped the child would look like his dad.
"To be honest, she was right to hope so, because she herself was not much to look at.
"Then she told me the child was to be named Tom after his father,