Little Riddle of Wool's Orphanage

"You don't recognize me?" Harry asked Riddle, pointing to himself.

"Should I know you?" Riddle scoffed. "I'm not so bored as to get to know every young wizard; that's the most boring thing ever—so, are you prepared to pay the price for your intrusion, unknown little wizard?"

Harry stood with his hands in his pockets, looking incredibly cool.

"So, you don't have any memories of Voldemort himself, right?" he asked.

Riddle smiled.

"Voldemort?" he said with a chuckle. "Indeed, indeed, I've thought about changing my name—that surname bearing the filthy Muggle mark— Voldemort? Very well, indeed, a wizard of my caliber deserves that name!"

Harry understood.

It seems that the Voldemort fragment within this Horcrux doesn't know where Voldemort is right now.

This made Harry lose the desire to ask any more questions.

"To thank you for bringing me such delightful news," Riddle chuckled arrogantly, "I'd like to hear your name, little wizard."

"Harry Potter," Harry said, leaning against the doorframe.

"Harry Potter?" Riddle was taken aback.

Then, he realized what was happening.

"Impossible!" Riddle exclaimed, pointing at Harry. "Mr. Potter lived decades ago; he disappeared decades ago! How could you possibly be him! Impossible! Absolutely impossible!"

"See, you wouldn't believe me even if I told you."

Harry said, snapping his fingers.

Immediately, half of the office disappeared—truly disappeared. Through the damaged office walls, one could even see the swirling hurricane and the nebula filling the sky.

Riddle's expression changed.

"You—you really are Harry Potter?" he stammered. "It's... it's an honor, an honor, Mr. Potter— "

It's such an honor to meet you!

"Before you heard my name, you were so arrogant," Harry said casually. "And after you learned who I am, you became so humble. It's just ridiculous."

Stubborn at first, then obsequious—it's laughable, isn't it?

Having said that, before Voldemort could say anything more, Harry snapped his fingers again.

Riddle's soul fragments, along with the entire Hogwarts Castle, vanished into the heavens and earth, turning into a cloud of ash.

He then withdrew from the Mental World.

"How are you, Harry?" Dumbledore asked with concern as he stepped forward.

Veratia, wand in hand, dismissively pushed Dumbledore aside.

Dumbledore immediately understood what his sister-in-law meant.

I should have asked that first, Dumbledore!

"It doesn't feel so bad." Harry smiled at Veratia and reached for Hufflepuff's Cup. "You see, the Dark Arts mark on it has disappeared. This method really works, and it doesn't harm the cup itself."

"What about that Blood curse beastman?" Veratia asked thoughtfully. "I asked Gellert, and he said he knew that Blood curse beastman too..."

"Yes, I know him."

Gellert suddenly poked his head out from behind the curtains. "Aha— Potter! Long time no see!"

"Long time no see, how have you been Gale?" Harry greeted him with great flair.

Gellert smirked.

What's with this increasingly strong brother-in-law vibe?!

"Yes, Nagini." Gellert walked over, sat down in a chair, and put his arms around her. "You see—I once adopted a child named Credence Barryborn—oh, or perhaps he had another name, Aurelius Dumbledore. He was an Obscurus, and he happened to have a confidante named Nagini."

"I'm afraid that's not adoption, Gellert," Dumbledore denied.

"It was adoption," Gellert retorted without backing down. "Isn't it because you abandoned him first? Do Albus— you left him in Muggle's house, and what was that Muggle woman's name—oh right, Mary Lou Barryburn, she leads the New Salem Philanthropic Society, an anti-witchcraft group in New York, and she's been trying to expose the wizarding world."

"In her eyes, Credence's birth mother was an 'evil, abnormal woman.' Do you know why Credence became Obscurus? It's all because of her! I know that Credence suffered constant physical and psychological abuse, suppressing his magical abilities. Mary Lou would often make him take off his belt and whip his hands with it! I saved him!"

Dumbledore opened his mouth.

"Actually, you only did it because he's Obscurus, Gellert," he said. "When the Obscurus attacked Mary..."

After Lu, you believed Modesty was the Obscurial you were looking for. Once you confirmed Modesty's whereabouts, you immediately abandoned Credence, calling him a Squib, didn't you?

"I don't deny it," Gellert said casually. "I admit I made a mistake. And you? Do you admit you've made a mistake?"

Harry, who was watching from the sidelines, felt that Gellert was becoming less and less like the powerful Dark Wizard leader he had been decades ago.

However, there's nothing unacceptable about it. After all, he now has his older sister to support him, so it's fine for him to be a carefree goofball.

"Can you two stop bickering like an old couple?" Veratia said, her face flushed with anger. "If you want to argue, go outside. Come back when you're done!"

"I won't make a fuss anymore, sister." Gellert immediately sat up straight, like a model student.

"I have no intention of arguing with him," Dumbledore said, rubbing his temples.

"Oh, right," Gellert suddenly said, "Recently, my sister asked me to track down that Riddle. The Saints did manage to find one of his trails—not the feminine, younger one. Apparently, he's on TPLAC now."

"What is TPLAC?" Dumbledore asked, puzzled.

"TinPot Little Africa Country," Gellert said, spreading his hands. "See, we've never been on the same wavelength, have we, Dumbledore?"

"You still feel pretty resentful, don't you?" Veratia looked at her bratty younger brother with an unfriendly gaze.

Gellert lowered his head and remained silent.

"Go on!" she tapped the table.

"That's when the news stopped," Gellert shrugged. "They say he's in one of the pyramids now, but—you know, sister, the Egyptian Ministry of Magic would never allow us into one."

"That's not something you or I need to worry about," Veratia said with a light laugh. "If Riddle comes out of there, I think the first ones to regret it won't be us."

Yes, Egypt should be the first to suffer, right?

"I suggest you should clean up the next Horcrux, Potter," Gellert said to Harry. "You don't need to worry about where Riddle is for now. What you need to do most right now is destroy Riddle's soul fragments while preserving Albus's treasures."

"I know, you don't need to tell me," Harry retorted.

"Well-intentioned reminders are never taken seriously," Gellert said with a shrug, seemingly unconcerned.

Harry stepped forward and aimed at the next Horcrux.

It is the Ravenclaw's Diadem.

"This Diadem is actually quite beautiful," Harry thought, "I wish it could be worn on Veratia's head."

No, that won't work. Veratia already has a Diadem. Veratia's more suited to that Princess crown or Empress crown; that would suit her temperament better.

Harry glanced at Veratia, who was looking at the documents, and then looked at the Diadem again.

This Diadem is actually more suitable for Cassandra —well, she really should use the Diadem to boost her intelligence.

With that thought in mind, Harry drew his wand and aimed it at the Diadem.

"Legilimency!" "

Once again, he felt that dizzying sensation, but not his own; rather, the entire world seemed to be twisting into a vortex before him.

Then, the vortex gradually subsided, and what appeared before Harry was a square building surrounded by high railings.

The sign in front of the house reads "Wool's Orphanage".

Harry knew the name all too well; he had heard more than once that Voldemort had been thrown here—or perhaps he should say, that he was Tom Riddle as a child.

Yes, the classic case of his mother not loving him.

Harry straightened his slightly disheveled clothes and slowly walked into Wool's Orphanage.

The rooms in the orphanage looked old but were very clean and spotless. Harry noticed that the orphans playing or resting inside were being well taken care of.

Then, he saw a familiar figure.

It's a younger version of Dumbledore, with a small round face and a full beard.

"Dumbledore?" Harry muttered, and followed him up.

A woman was standing next to Dumbledore; they were standing outside a house.

"Tom? Someone's here to see you. This is Mr. Dumbledon —excuse me, it's Mr. Dumbledore. He's here to tell you—oh,

Let him tell you himself.

After the woman finished speaking, she gestured for Dumbledore to go inside.

Harry quickened his pace and went into the room with Dumbledore, with Mrs. Cole closing the door behind them.

It was an empty, undecorated little house with only an old wardrobe, a wooden chair, and an iron bed. A boy sat on a gray blanket, his long legs stretched out in front of him, reading a book.

Tom Riddle's face bore no resemblance to the Gaunt family. Merope's dying words had come true: he was practically a miniature version of his handsome father. For an eleven-year-old, he was tall, with dark hair and a pale face. He squinted slightly, scrutinizing Dumbledore's strange appearance and attire.

For a moment, no one spoke.

"Hello, Tom," Dumbledore said, stepping forward and extending his hand.

The boy hesitated for a moment, then reached out and shook his hand.

Dumbledore pulled a hard wooden chair next to Riddle, so that the two of them looked like a hospitalized patient and a visitor.

"I am Professor Dumbledore."

"A 'professor'?" Riddle repeated, his expression wary. "Is it like a 'doctor'? What are you doing here? Did she send you to examine me?"

He pointed to the door where Mrs. Cole had just left.

"No, no," Dumbledore a smile.

"I don't believe you," Riddle said. "She wants someone to come and see me, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"

He spoke the last three words fiercely and loudly, his manner intimidating. It was an order, and it seemed he had given such orders many times before.

He suddenly opened his eyes wide and stared intently at Dumbledore, Dumbledore did not answer, but continued to smile kindly. After a few seconds, Riddle's gaze relaxed, but he seemed more alert.

"Who are you?"

"I've already told you. I am Professor Dumbledore, and I work at a school Hogwarts. I've come to invite you to study at my school—your new school—if you'd like."

Riddle's reaction to this was completely unexpected. He jumped out of bed, backed away from Dumbledore, and looked extremely angry.

"You can't fool me! You're from the asylum, aren't you? 'Professor,' huh, that's right—let me tell you, I'm not going, understand? That damned old hag is the one who should be in the asylum. I didn't do anything to Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop. You can ask them yourself, they'll tell you!"

"I didn't come from an asylum," Dumbledore said patiently. "I'm a teacher. If you can sit down calmly..."

I'll tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you don't want to go to that school, no one will force you—"

"I'd like to see who dares!" Riddle said dismissively.

Harry watched them talk, Dumbledore gently trying to persuade Riddle, but Riddle didn't quite believe what Dumbledore saying.

After hearing that magic truly existed—and having witnessed Dumbledore set his wardrobe on fire— Riddle's expression shifted from excitement to fanaticism.

Yes, fanatical, and utterly greedy.

Harry frowned.

He was increasingly convinced that the problem wasn't with Dumbledore's upbringing, but rather that Voldemort was simply born this way.

A born bad seed.

It should be said that Dumbledore did have a problem—but the problem wasn't a failure in his teaching methods, but rather that he shouldn't have let Riddle attend Hogwarts in the first place.

Listening to their conversation, Harry learned what had happened at Wool's Orphanage.

Who would have thought that Voldemort had a habit of petty theft?

With that thought in mind, Harry turned his gaze back to Little Riddle.

So, where are Voldemort's soul fragments hidden?

He had assumed the soul fragment would appear on its own, just like it had in Hufflepuff's Cup, but so far, the soul fragment had not appeared.