Harry Potter's Troubles

Snow began whirling against the ice-covered windows again, and Christmas drew nearer by the day.

As he did every year, Hagrid had delivered twelve Christmas trees to the Great Hall with his bare hands.

Holly wreaths and glittering tinsel had been draped over the staircase banisters.

Everlasting candles cast a warm glow from the helmets of suits of armor, while mistletoe hung at intervals throughout the corridors.

But what excited and engrossed the students even more than Christmas—

was Tom Riddle's past.

Tierra had unveiled Voldemort's captivating, mysterious, and cruel past to the students.

The fear born from that past came with an immense allure, driving every student who had witnessed it—and even those who had merely heard of Voldemort's past—to investigate, dig deeper, and obtain more information and intelligence about Voldemort.

"Just as expected, a person's reputation precedes them," Tierra said with a smile, teasing Dumbledore, who had taken time to return for Christmas. "I was clearly the youngest champion of the Triwizard Tournament, and I clearly drew all the hate during the competition, yet their enthusiasm for me back then wasn't even a tenth of what they feel for Voldemort now."

"If they'd had even half as much enthusiasm for me back then as they do for Voldemort now, I wouldn't have been in such a hurry to trouble you with holding another funeral for me," Tierra said with a smile.

"And what is your purpose now?" Dumbledore asked in return. "Pushing Voldemort onto the Path to Godhood... are you truly planning to help him become a god, or are you planning to hold a funeral for him?"

"Of course it's a funeral," Tierra answered without hesitation. "Do I look like some saintly do-gooder?"

"Aren't you afraid of losing control?" Dumbledore asked, setting down his teacup and raising