Inside Hogwarts' ancient and solemn Headmaster's Office.
The enchanted lights swayed, casting shifting shadows across the surrounding walls. The fire in the fireplace burned quietly, its warm glow reflecting off silverware and portraits.
Yet it could not dispel the faint chill lingering in the air.
It was a sensation brought by that strange, empty suit of armor. Portraits of former headmasters hung on the walls, their gazes seeming to silently watch everything within the quiet room.
No one spoke.
Nor did anyone show any unusual expression.
"Riddle."
Behind the massive desk, Dumbledore sat quietly. His silver beard glimmered beneath the light, while an unreadable expression lingered in his deep blue eyes.
"Heh." The armor did not move, yet a low chuckle drifted through the air. It seemed to come from somewhere far away, yet also seemed like the surrounding space itself was rising and falling with the sound.
It was impossible to tell where it had come from.
It was exceedingly ethereal.
"What did you do to Malfoy?" Dumbledore paid no mind to these abnormalities. His tone remained calm as he gazed at the armor's face.
Though his tone was mild, it carried an unquestionable authority. However, the suit of armor called Riddle did not immediately answer Dumbledore's question.
It stood there in silence, like a mute statue.
Within the quiet atmosphere.
Dumbledore did not speak again. As always, he was patient. After a long while, the armor finally shook its head, and a low, hoarse voice sounded through the surroundings.
"You're always like this, Dumbledore." The armor's voice was cold and raspy, carrying the texture of metal scraping together. "You know the answer, yet insist on asking."
"It's simple. I gave Malfoy a chance to live. Otherwise, he would have died long ago. No, he would have ceased to