Uncle's Letter

The next morning, Nelson caught Dumbledore at the entrance to the dining hall and pulled an envelope from inside his robes.

"Professor Dumbledore, this is the letter you gave me over the holiday."

"Thank you, Mr. Williams." Dumbledore accepted the envelope, slipped it into the sleeve of his wizarding robe, and started toward the dining hall.

"Professor Dumbledore—" Nelson hesitated.

"What is it?" Dumbledore stopped and looked down at Nelson.

"There's actually nothing in that envelope, is there?"

"Haha." Dumbledore patted Nelson on the shoulder without answering directly. "Come on. Don't miss the delicious food."

He took the lead toward the dining hall. Nelson soon followed, found Tom, and sat down with him to enjoy breakfast.

"Nal, our first class today is with the Head of House. After class, I'm organizing a gathering for the new Slytherin students. Want to come?" Tom speared a small tomato from Nelson's plate with his fork.

"No, I'm going to the library after class." Nelson shook his head. He had maintained good study habits and understood well that books were the ladder of human progress.

"All right," Tom said flatly. "What the—"

A large gray owl suddenly dropped a package into his lap.

Magical Theory, which had been out of stock during the holidays.

"Why did it get dropped on me?" Tom looked at the crushed tomato in his hand, tossed it onto the plate in front of him, and prepared to take another from Nelson's plate.

"I put down both our names. Maybe yours came earlier alphabetically?" Nelson spotted an owl circling overhead and reached up, catching a newspaper as it fell into his hand. "You can throw away that old book from the holidays."

"No need, it—"

"It's the Daily Prophet. Let's see... Dumbledore won another award, and the Wizengamot is considering inviting him to be a standing member. Celebrating the Daily Prophet's eight hundred and fiftieth anniversary... From the news, it feels like everything under the British Ministry of Magic is peaceful and prosperous."

"These media outlets are truly disgusting." Tom had already taken his fourth small tomato. Nelson simply moved the whole plate beside him. "I thought you knew. You're always reading books every day, but you need to keep up with current affairs too. It'll help us adapt to this world faster... Dark wizards in Europe have become more rampant lately. They've even started carrying out attacks in Wales. You know, the Muggle side has been tense lately too."

"Yes. There'll be a war soon."

"Oh? Really? Chamberlain isn't... Never mind, that isn't important. What does it have to do with us? The main thing is the dark wizards. You know, he's really powerful—Gellert Grindelwald." Tom spoke animatedly, showing off his knowledge.

At the mention of that name, the area around them suddenly fell silent. Several people looked at the two of them strangely. Hearing the name, Nelson finally understood that it was not only the Muggle world that was shrouded in the clouds of war. Above the wizarding world hung an equally impossible-to-ignore curtain of terror—the Dark Lord Grindelwald and his Acolytes.

"What does it have to do with us? Hogwarts is the safest place in the world." Nelson quickly raised his voice, and the surrounding noise soon returned.

"That's true, but I think he—" Tom was about to launch into a grand speech. "What's this now?!"

An envelope drifted down from above. It floated and floated until it landed on Tom's head. He snatched it down, glanced at the name on it, and irritably tossed it onto Nelson's table. "Your letter."

Nelson took the letter. Two neat, flowing lines were written on the envelope:

To Mr. Nelson Wiltening Williams, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Jonas Nicklaus

Dear Nal,

Long time no see! I've just returned from a business trip to Czechoslovakia. Their only local specialties are beer and some bitter liquor, and since you aren't old enough yet, I didn't bring you any. When you're a little older, we can go there for a holiday together.

To be honest, the situation here does not look good. I feel as though all of Europe is about to change. Once my next interview is over, I plan to ask the newspaper for leave and stay properly in the United Kingdom for a couple of years to spend time with your aunt.

I had originally planned to take care of you properly for a while, but I never expected you to be whisked away by a boarding school—and a magical school at that! After becoming friends with your parents, I once thought magic was merely a joke your father had played on me...

I never mentioned your father to you before because I did not know where to begin. Nor did I know whether I should tell you that your father was a wizard. Both your parents vanished in a tragedy caused by magic. As far as I am concerned, I never wanted you to come into contact with those things again.

Yet wizarding blood seems to carry some fateful magic within it. Before I could even return to London, you were already about to accept your own destiny.

Your father was my good friend. His name was Melgan Wiltening. We placed his surname in the middle of your name. He disappeared eleven years ago after leaving you behind. We did not know whether he had some invincible enemy, so we used your mother's surname, Williams, as yours—it is one of the most common surnames in the United Kingdom. After all, Wiltening sounds like the name of some Northern European family.

He was witty, talkative, and charming. He looked almost exactly like you, but he loved to smile. That was unlike you... You should smile more in the future. When we used to talk, he said he hoped his child would become a brave person. I cannot entirely agree. In these chaotic times, I hope you can become a wise person.

As for your mother, you can ask your aunt to tell you about her when you go home for the holidays.

As your uncle, I truly have not fulfilled the responsibilities of an elder. For most of those years, I was always running about outside and never properly spent time with you and your aunt... Still, it comforts me that even so, you have grown into an outstanding child, one I am proud of.

Nal, the stories of those who came before should not become a burden upon you. Go and become the person you want to be. I am about to leave for Poland, so I will not say much more... If there is anything you want to say, remember to write to me. I remember that wizarding owls can find me. Nal, October is coming soon. Remember to wear a few more layers.

With love, Uncle Jonas

September 1, 1938

"Has your uncle gone home?" Tom asked from beside him.

"Mm. We had barely left when he went home." Nelson closed his eyes and lifted his head. He remembered how, over the past ten years, his uncle had taken him out to eat and drink, play, and travel everywhere. He remembered his uncle teaching him how to fight, teaching him French and German. He remembered the tie his uncle had given him for his birthday this year—it was even longer than Nelson's wand, so he had no choice but to leave it in a drawer at home. He remembered every little moment of joy spent with his family over the past ten years.

"Nal," Tom said, supporting his back, "we'll have a holiday at Christmas. Your birthday is on New Year's Day too, so we can go back to London."

"Isn't your birthday around then too?" Nelson composed himself, turned his face toward Tom, and handed him another plate of small tomatoes. "We can celebrate together. By the way, do you only eat tomatoes for breakfast?"

"These taste better." Tom speared another one.

"Welcome to Slytherin!" Horace Slughorn looked entirely different from the walrus-like fat old man Nelson remembered. Slytherin's first class was Potions, taught by their Head of House, with no students from other houses present. The professor stood behind the lectern, with three covered cauldrons set over fires beside him.

"Potions is an ancient, mysterious, and extraordinary field of study." Professor Slughorn spoke smoothly. His tone was gentle, yet seemed filled with magic, stirring the thoughts of every Slytherin student. "Unlike spells, most potions do not require you to wave your wands or cast any magic during their preparation. This leads many to believe that it is not truly part of magic—but! Potions possess countless effects beyond your imagination. Accordingly, they demand exceptional knowledge, a calm mind... and unwavering patience from their makers."

"Potions is a discipline that requires vast investments of time, energy, and wealth—but even if you give all that, even if you give everything, it will still keep its doors tightly shut to those without talent!"

"The reward brought by such a tremendous price is the greatness of potions. Potions can help you increase your strength, seize wealth, brew glory, and even defeat death."

His seductive words flowed from the lectern, his voice rising and falling. Many first-years had already resolved to become masters of potions. Nelson noticed that when Professor Slughorn reached the end, Tom beside him had also straightened in his seat. A red glint even flashed through his black eyes.

Is this magic? What a vivid form of expression.

"Can anyone tell me what the three cauldrons to my right contain? Anyone who answers correctly will receive a reward."

This stumped the Little Snakes around them. Surely no one had finished previewing every textbook before school even started? Surely not? Surely not? they grumbled inwardly.

Professor Slughorn lifted the lids from two of the cauldrons. One contained a light orange potion that gave off a soothing feeling as it bubbled away. The other held a golden liquid that looked as cheerful as sunlight.

"Can anyone answer?" Tom and Nelson raised their hands.

Slughorn called on Tom. This handsome black-haired young man looked more pleasing to him.

"It is Cough Potion and Cheerful Potion, Professor." Tom stood and answered politely. The Slytherin students around him looked at him with admiration, though some wore expressions of jealousy or disdain.

"Correct." Slughorn opened the roster in his hand. "Tom Riddle, you are truly an excellent student. As a reward, I shall award ten points to Slytherin, my own house!"

Tom gave a slight bow and sat down.

"Now, please open your copies of Magical Drafts and Potions. We shall officially begin our first lesson!"

The students hurriedly opened their books. Suddenly, a short-haired girl with a small build raised her hand and asked, "What is in the third cauldron?"

"A good question." Slughorn was not angered by the interruption as he flipped through the roster. "Jessica Ollivander, hmm, that potion is a surprise."

"I hope that all of you will study diligently after class. In next week's lesson, any student who can identify it will win a special reward."