Re-examination

As the sun neared its zenith, the Aurors, who had been waiting with either impatience or boredom, finally witnessed the great doors of Hogwarts open once more. Their Minister for Magic was the first to emerge, but his face was extremely grim, devoid of the morning's fighting spirit.

The Aurors, understanding the Minister's subtle intentions, exchanged glances before giving a small, resigned pout. It was clear that even with reinforcements, their Minister hadn't gotten his way. In fact, they didn't need to see the Minister's expression to know this; the so-called deterrence had long since become a joke after such a prolonged wait.

They even suspected that by the time those watching students graduated and joined the Ministry, this whole affair would become a jest for future generations to mock them with.

The Aurors who didn't understand the Minister's subtle intentions, meanwhile, thought that the wasted morning was finally coming to an end and looked curiously behind the displeased Minister—

A young girl in a Slytherin robe walked out with a smile, followed by Madam Bostede and Headmaster Dumbledore. The girl walked at a leisurely pace, and the two old wizards followed slowly. These two highly respected old wizards, who were often at odds with each other, voluntarily fell half a step behind the girl, as if guarding her, or perhaps more like expressing their allegiance.

The Aurors straightened their bodies.

It wasn't just because of the Minister's implied display of power, but also because they knew—this seemingly young girl was the same young wizard who had single-handedly cleared out the Fire Serpent Gang a hundred years ago. The wizarding underworld had been subdued for the next twenty to thirty years, and her contributions were indelible.

Seasoned Aurors had seen plenty of classified documents, so they were well aware that even though many brutal records had been sealed long ago, she was still a witch whose status was no less than Dumbledore's today, back when their fathers or grandfathers were children.

By all accounts, they should show her respect.

Following behind the four was Hagrid, holding a small red umbrella, his steps somewhat hesitant. The imposing Aurors clearly made him nervous.

Dumbledore noticed this, turned, and looked up at him, speaking reassuringly, "Relax, Rubeus, you don't need to do anything. You just need to watch your name be cleared."

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore," Hagrid took a deep breath and resolutely stepped out of Hogwarts.

It wasn't lunchtime yet, and the young wizards were still in class, but this didn't stop the windows from being crowded with heads. They were filled with curiosity about this peculiar group and whispered amongst themselves.

Harry's classroom wasn't near the main entrance, so he only learned about it during lunch in the Great Hall from others. When he heard Hagrid was involved, he instinctively touched the pocket of his robes—where the diary containing Voldemort's memories from his youth was kept.

Harry knew clearly that this was Cyberlina's doing—because his pocket had been greatly enlarged, just like the pockets in her sleeves. He could even fit his usual class books in there, but he dared not. For two days, he had only put this one diary in, fearing Voldemort might crawl out to other places through the books—like the cockroaches in the Muggle world that you never knew where they'd end up.

Of course, as Harry, he couldn't resist trying to have some unfriendly exchanges with the young Voldemort. However, the conversation between these two destined adversaries was even less friendly than imagined.

Stripped of his veneer of gentleness, the young Riddle was aggressive and rude. He had nothing good to say about the boy who would "survive" him in the future. And Harry wasn't exactly the most patient person; he had been beaten by Dudley countless times for his loose tongue since childhood, and then he had received over a year of instruction from Snape—thus, the two began a hearty exchange of greetings.

Finally, after Riddle angrily blasted at those around Harry, Harry resentfully wrote, "I'll tell Senior Cyberlina," and snapped the diary shut with a "snap."

—Although he didn't know what happened after he fell asleep, from Riddle's conversation, he could tell that the other party was wary of Cyberlina and unwilling to submit. So, Cyberlina would surely be effective.

For Harry, who was now sitting in the Great Hall, what mattered was something mentioned in that not-so-friendly conversation—as they talked, they touched upon the Chamber of Secrets—then it devolved into bloodlines and races—after their youthful tempers flared, the two young men couldn't hold back and spoke carelessly—Riddle blabbed about his "glorious deeds" to mock Harry's kind Hagrid as weak and empty-headed.

Thus, Harry's lips curved into a slight smile amidst the noisy Great Hall. He knew that Dumbledore and Cyberlina must be taking Hagrid to clear his name!

Lost in his happiness, Harry didn't notice Hermione, sitting opposite him, looking at him with slightly raised chin and narrowed eyes, her gaze full of inquiry.

The few people at the center of the students' discussion entered the Ministry's elevators amidst the furtive discussions of the Ministry's various departments—their arrival had even overshadowed the Ministry's currently hot topic.

Their destination was the tenth floor, which the elevators could not reach.

The elevator stopped on the ninth floor.

Since Bostede and Fudge were both members of the Wizengamot conducting the interrogation, they had gone to the tenth floor earlier after entering the Ministry. Now, only Cyberlina, Dumbledore, and Hagrid needed to disembark from the elevator.

Cyberlina was the first to step out of the elevator, onto the empty corridor.

"Department of Mysteries," Dumbledore said meaningfully in the empty corridor.

"Yes, the Department of Mysteries," Cyberlina repeated with a smile.

"So this is the Department of Mysteries. No one told me when I came last time," Hagrid looked around a few times, then at the black door at the end, "I heard that nothing here is made public, it's all very mysterious. I remember there's a prophecy room here, where—"

"Cyber, we need to go this way," Dumbledore had already reached the opening on the left side of the corridor, smiling at the other two. "Oh, sorry, Rubeus, what were you saying just now?"

"Nothing, nothing," Hagrid smiled, following Cyberlina forward somewhat awkwardly—he didn't know if he should overtake her, but her speed was indeed too slow for him.

On the stairs leading down, Dumbledore said with a smile, "Actually, Cyber, some of your information is kept by them in the Department of Mysteries."

"Oh, that's only right," Cyberlina accepted this matter well. "But it seems they haven't discovered anything new—not even what I told the portraits."

"After all, the portraits and ghosts of Hogwarts are very loyal to Hogwarts," Dumbledore's voice was clear in the dark corridor at the bottom of the stairs. "Whether it's Armando or me, we would choose to keep some of your little secrets."

The direct words caused Cyberlina's gaze to turn to Dumbledore. In the torchlight, his white hair had a faint yellow hue, and his eyes behind his glasses were unclear due to the reflection, but she felt the gaze of those sky-blue eyes.

Cyberlina withdrew her gaze and smiled, "Thank you, Albus."

Hagrid was about to chime in that Professor Dumbledore was a good person when he found that the two in front had stopped—in front of a black door with a large iron lock.

Cyberlina raised her hand and twisted the metal handle—

The interrogation room, shrouded by black stone walls, was particularly gloomy. The dim torches illuminated the floating stool, but cast the person on it into darkness.

The heavy door closed behind them. The prisoner and witness had arrived, and the retrial, delayed for several hours, was to begin immediately.

But no one spoke.

In the dim interrogation room, there was only the sound of burning flames.

Countless eyes fell upon Cyberlina with various emotions, but she simply clasped her hands in front of her, lowered her eyes slightly, a smile on her lips, and remained silent, letting the impolite gazes fall upon her.

Dumbledore stood behind her, hands clasped in front of him with a serene expression, appearing at ease. Hagrid, however, looked at the chained chair, his tall body trembling slightly.

"Ahem—well—" Finally, Fudge couldn't help but break the prolonged silence. "Please, the person being interrogated, Rubeus Hagrid—sit down."

The gazes on Cyberlina began to decrease. She raised her eyes and looked at Fudge, who was sitting in the center of the first row, and said gently, "Mr. Minister, I believe Mr. Hagrid is here today to clear his name, and does not need to go through the procedure of being interrogated."

"No, Ms. Sekerei," Fudge smiled. "This is the Ministry of Magic, and all procedures must still be followed, otherwise, wouldn't it be chaos?"

"Alright then," Cyberlina shrugged. "But I don't think he needs to sit in that chair meant for restraining prisoners."

"Oh, Ms. Sekerei, this—" Fudge paused, because he saw that the chair had already begun to change—

It transformed into a soft sofa that looked very comfortable, with the iron chains on it becoming long scarves, draped limply over the sofa.

The members of the Wizengamot began to whisper.

A witch with short gray hair and a square jaw pushed up her monocle, her expression one of surprise.

Fudge was somewhat angered—Cyberlina's actions were clearly challenging his authority as Minister for Magic, but thinking of himself sitting there awkwardly listening to three people talk about the past that morning—he suppressed his anger, trembling and gritting his teeth, he said, "Fine—you may."

Hagrid looked at Cyberlina with gratitude and admiration, then stepped forward and sat on the sofa, letting out a comfortable "Ah" subconsciously.

Bostede sat in the back row, looking at Hagrid and the sofa beneath him with envy.

The official pronouncements before the trial were lengthy and rigid, almost a complete repetition of the trial from forty-nine years ago from beginning to end.

As Cyberlina listened, she couldn't help but whisper to Hagrid, "Why don't you say a bit more?"

"I... I..." Hagrid's face turned red, but he couldn't say anything.

The experience of the last trial was deeply etched in his memory, yet also incredibly chaotic. He still didn't know what he should have done at the time, he still didn't know how to explain to everyone that Aragog couldn't have done such a thing—but he hadn't had much opportunity to speak for himself then. He could only repeatedly insist that he hadn't done that evil deed of opening the Chamber of Secrets.

But no one believed him.

"It's okay, don't worry, I'll speak for you this time," Cyberlina said, gently patting Hagrid's shoulder.

Hagrid looked at her with tears in his eyes, moved, "Oh... Cyberlina..."

Dumbledore lowered his eyes to his toes, thinking silently, Another one.

"—Please, witness, Cyberlina Sekerei, present your testimony." Madam Burns—the surprised gray-haired lady from earlier—looked at Cyberlina.

Cyberlina lifted one side of her school robe, placed one hand on her chest, and bowed slightly forward.

"May I choose to present evidence directly?"

Fudge instinctively retorted, "No, you didn't say that before—"

"Perhaps you could tell us how you intend to present your evidence first," a voice, old and from the darkness, interrupted Fudge.

Fudge, who had been interrupted, had a moment of blankness in his expression, which then turned somewhat strange—he recognized the voice as belonging to an old wizard from a pure-blood family who funded the Ministry. He also remembered the man had once said he thought highly of him.

"Then—what evidence do you wish to present, Madam Sekerei?" Fudge adjusted his expression.

"My memories, sir."

The interrogation room fell silent for a moment, but then became lively again, the sound of hushed conversations gradually growing louder, and more eyes fell upon Cyberlina.

"You mean—" Fudge was clearly incredulous, "Are you suggesting that you need us—" He gestured with his hand towards the entire interrogation room, "—all of us, one by one, to stick our heads into a Pensieve?"

"Perhaps we could watch it together?" Cyberlina tilted her head slightly, a friendly smile on her face, "That would save time."

Fudge was speechless, unsure whether to wonder where he would find such a large Pensieve, or to simply dismiss Cyberlina.

"Don't worry, I don't need a Pensieve."

Cyberlina smiled, quickly drew her wand, and pointed it at the sky—ignoring the gasps of the crowd, ignoring Fudge's rushing attempt to stop her, and ignoring the rules of the place—just as she had changed the chairs earlier.

White flames appeared in the air, burning, expanding, and then the flames twisted—forming a glowing white water mirror.

Blue magical traces, visible only to Cyberlina, writhed beneath the flames, flipping and turning, finally transforming into ancient characters that attached themselves beneath the water mirror.

Fudge, who had already rushed down from his chair, stood a few steps away from Cyberlina, looking up at the white water mirror that illuminated the entire interrogation room, the flesh of his cheeks trembling with anger.

"This method might have subtle differences from watching a Pensieve, but I can guarantee that everything is my true memory—I solemnly swear an Unbreakable Vow that this is absolutely true."

"Cyber?!!" Dumbledore turned sharply to look at Cyberlina.

But Cyberlina paid him no mind, simply smiling at Fudge and asking, "May I, Mr. Minister?"

Fudge cleared his throat, feigning composure as he walked towards Cyberlina, tilting his head slightly, "Of course."

"Then let Albus be the witness."

"Cyberlina!" Dumbledore stepped forward, but clearly with some reluctance, "That's an Unbreakable Vow."

"I know," Cyberlina had already raised her right hand, looking at Fudge.

Fudge was quite pleased to see Dumbledore's displeased expression, and there was nothing wrong with Cyberlina doing this, so he took Cyberlina's hand and knelt down first.

Cyberlina followed Fudge's movement and knelt, saying to Dumbledore, "Closer, Albus."

Dumbledore, with a stern face, slowly approached, then reluctantly took out the Elder Wand and placed it on their clasped hands.

In the interrogation room, illuminated by the white water mirror, there was silence. Everyone held their breath, watching the two kneeling in the center.

"Do you promise that the memories you are about to display are, without exception, all true and accurate?" Fudge said, choosing his words carefully.

"I do."

Thin flames shot out from the tip of the Elder Wand, coiling around their clasped hands.

Fudge hesitated, unsure of what to say next. At this moment—

"Do you promise that if the memories I display are true and accurate, Mr. Minister will acknowledge the full content of my memories as true and reliable on behalf of the Ministry of Magic?" Cyberlina asked.

Fudge thought carefully and realized this statement was entirely unnecessary, as the first vow, if proven, would make the second vow require nothing from him.

"I do."

Another thin stream of flame appeared, coiling around their hands.

Only one promise left.

Seeing Cyberlina about to speak again, Fudge had a flash of inspiration and quickly interjected, "Do you promise not to oppose the Ministry of Magic?"

"Rustle—"

The sound of several people standing up came from the Wizengamot members.

"I do," Cyberlina said with a smile.

The last flame wrapped around their hands.

Cyberlina released Fudge's hand, stood up, and shook her robes. She then asked everyone, "Now, may I show the memory?"

"Of course," Fudge replied, also standing up. He smiled with satisfaction as he looked at Dumbledore's displeased expression.

Cyberlina pressed her wand to her temple, extracted a wisp of silver memory, and tossed it into the white water mirror in the air.

The silver memory passed through the white water mirror, creating a circle of black ripples. Black mist slowly rose from above the mirror, and a handsome boy in a Slytherin robe appeared within the mist.

However, his form was blurry, perhaps more fitting to be called a handsome ghost.

"No, Albus is right, child, death cannot be escaped."

Cyberlina's voice suddenly echoed throughout the entire interrogation room, its source undetectable.

The Wizengamot members then understood what Cyberlina meant by "subtle difference"—she was playing her memory from a first-person perspective.

In the black mist, the boy's somewhat insubstantial form had a slightly distorted face. Suddenly, a face appeared behind him—Cyberlina's face, but clearly older than she was now.

"You've seen me before, where?"

After Cyberlina's voice appeared again, the Wizengamot members understood what the image behind the boy was—a scene conjured by Cyberlina using Legilimency.

"More accurately, it's your photograph," the boy said.

The face of Cyberlina began to transform into a photograph—a photo of her smiling and turning her head.

A somewhat disheveled man held a knife and viciously stabbed it into the photograph, then frantically sawed at it. Afterward, he took out his wand and repaired it with a Mending Charm—then began a new round of mad cutting.

"A photograph of you, being cut into a thousand pieces," the boy sneered.

"Oh, Marvolo..."

The boy's face froze for a moment, then he immediately averted his gaze. However, the Legilimency scene behind him did not stop—a long-haired, still red-headed Dumbledore was questioning him about the Chamber of Secrets. Those blue eyes stared directly at the boy—he was using Legilimency, but he hadn't succeeded.

"No, it's because my Legilimency is much stronger than Albus's from decades ago," Cyberlina clarified for him.

"I am not like this because of eternal life, Mr. Riddle. You know I've researched souls deeply... I can tell you clearly, your act of splitting your soul is only accelerating your own demise."

Cyberlina's voice did not stop, but this unbelievable and incredible statement immediately caused many people to stand up. They stared in shock at the boy's increasingly angry face in the air, then uniformly looked at Cyberlina, who was also looking at the air.

The Legilimency behind the boy had not stopped. The scenes of Dumbledore questioning him in his mind kept replaying.

"You are a clever child, you saw that Albus suspected and guarded against you. But why did you think he shouldn't have?" Cyberlina seemed to be questioning those scenes. "Tom—oh, I hope you don't mind me calling you that. I'm not speaking up for Albus, I just know he isn't someone who speaks without reason. He targeted you because you must have done something. And look, his suspicion wasn't wrong, was it?"

The scenes behind the boy began to change. Everyone saw flashes of his childish actions and the younger Dumbledore he first met.

Dumbledore: "..."

Dumbledore pursed his lips, his hands clenched tightly within his sleeves. He truly didn't know who this public execution was for!

"But if it weren't for him, I—"

"Don't say that, Tom. Nothing is an excuse for you to do evil. See your own heart clearly, and don't make excuses for your downfall. Look at this, Tom."

A black notebook appeared in the memory's view. It floated in front of the boy but didn't block his eyes.

"Did you open the Chamber of Secrets to kill classmates, and then do this—become who you are now to bewitch younger students—because Albus treated you badly?"

The scene behind the boy changed. Everyone saw him release the Basilisk—a poor, unfortunate girl encountered the Basilisk and died on the spot.

The interrogation room fell silent.

"If Albus had treated you kindly, would you not have sought out the Chamber of Secrets in Slytherin?"

Cyberlina's questioning voice rang out again. The boy's memory began to show several scenes of him searching for the Chamber of Secrets at Hogwarts, finally—he opened the Chamber with wild joy.

"If Albus hadn't questioned you, would you not have sought the origin of your blood?"

The memory's perspective above the interrogation room began to shift. They saw that Cyberlina had stood up.

The scene behind the boy transformed into a dilapidated house with a snake hanging by the door. The disheveled man yelled furiously at the boy, berating the boy's mother, his uncle, and—Cyberlina Sekerei.

The black notebook that had stopped in front of the boy moved away, and the boy once again looked directly at the owner of the memory.

"If Albus thought you were a good child, was the good child persona you were pretending to be the truth?"

The memory behind the boy continued. Everyone saw him kill the middle-aged man who looked similar to him, as well as his parents.

The interrogation room remained silent.

Fudge, who now knew this was Voldemort, was already regretting it. These scenes had absolutely nothing to do with the retrial! This was entirely Voldemort's personal business! But it wasn't finished yet, so this wasn't the "entire memory" Cyberlina had promised—he couldn't stop it!

Fudge looked at Dumbledore, only to find him shaking his head helplessly at him—exactly the same expression as when he had stated his powerlessness against Cyberlina in his office.

Damn it, damn it! Damn it!!!

Fudge was internally furious, and the memory in the air continued to play.

The perspective from memory moved forward again. The wariness in the boy's eyes was evident to everyone present. They waited for the scene behind the boy to change, and for Cyberlina to ask her question again. Then, everyone in the interrogation room heard—

"Without Albus's protection, you wouldn't have named yourself Voldemort?"

"Whoosh—"

For a moment, almost everyone in the interrogation room stood up.

Behind the boy, his memories were still being displayed by Cyberlina, who was using Legilimency on him. He kept writing and drawing on paper, finally breaking down the name "Tom Marvolo Riddle" into—"I am Voldemort."

"No."

The boy's firm voice rang out.

"You see. Albus's actions had no influence on you. His suspicions were correct, as they should have been. You were a bad child from the very beginning."

Cyberlina's laughter gradually faded as black mist appeared. By the time she finished speaking, the black mist had swept away the boy's slightly terrified gaze.

The water mirror returned to flames, and the silver memory flowed back into Cyberlina's mind.

In the silence where even the sound of breathing was almost imperceptible, Cyberlina smiled at Fudge and raised her right hand, showing him the mark left by the Unbreakable Vow.

"Minister, you see, I'm still alive. All the memories—are real."

Fudge trembled with anger, but he still had to grit his teeth and say, "Yes, your memories are real and correct. They—are all real and reliable."

Therefore—

The Ministry of Magic admitted that Voldemort was Tom Riddle, who had reported Hagrid at the time.

The Ministry of Magic admitted that Voldemort, not Morfin Gaunt, was the one who killed the old Tom Riddle family.

The Ministry of Magic admitted that Voldemort was a half-blood with Gaunt family blood.

The Ministry of Magic admitted—Voldemort had split his soul—meaning—the one killed by the Savior at the time might have only been a part of him!

"Good," Cyberlina said with a happy smile. "It seems our Mr. Hagrid is innocent, doesn't he?"