When they returned to the hospital room, Dumbledore looked at Neville differently.
Yet even this old man, who could be called one of the greatest Headmasters in the history of a school as great as Hogwarts,
couldn't see where Neville's talent lay.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, is something wrong?"
Mrs. Longbottom couldn't stand the way Dumbledore was looking at Neville and couldn't help asking.
"I'm looking at the boy's talent, Augusta. According to Voldemort, Neville has astonishing talent."
He didn't dare mention anything about passing on his mantle. That wouldn't make his old friend happy; it would only alarm her.
The heir to the Dark Lord, Merlin's beard! Had the Longbottom family's ancestral graves offended some taboo?
Dumbledore thought Augusta Longbottom would surely think that—and might even go so far as to move the graves.
After all, the Longbottom family, who prided themselves on being Pure-blood and righteous, wouldn't consider having a second-generation Dark Lord in the family something to bring honor to their ancestors①.
"Talent... I have to admit, under the Dark Lord's tutelage, Neville has made great strides, but perhaps he's headed in the wrong direction."
Mrs. Longbottom's words carried a great deal of disapproval. This was hardly surprising.
Wizards used wands, and Trolls used clubs.
In Mrs. Longbottom's eyes, a sword and a club were no different.
Before Voldemort could react, Neville had already blushed at his grandmother's words.
The kind-hearted boy cared far too much about what the people around him thought of him.
"If I remember correctly, Mrs. Longbottom."
Voldemort frowned at her and said with a pointed edge, "Mr. Gryffindor, one of Hogwarts' four Founders, wielded a longsword in one hand and a wand in the other, didn't he?"
Mrs. Longbottom opened her mouth. She clearly wanted to argue with Voldemort, but for a moment she