The Dropped Glove Isn't Picked Up

"That is the wonder of magic." Albus Dumbledore began his usual evasive dance, but seeing Snape's face turning a shade of green, he finally reined in his playful tone and said solemnly, "Severus, a genius is a genius not only because of talent, but also because of hard work."

"I have seen Tom Riddle studying in the library late at night more than once; that level of perseverance is even rarer than his talent."

"His current strength, while seemingly absurd, is actually something he has pieced together bit by bit. It is entirely reasonable."

Snape nodded subconsciously, his heart just beginning to agree, when he suddenly realized: late at night in the library?

That was nothing but wandering after hours! His eyes lit up, and he immediately leaned in.

"Riddle dares to wander at night? And more than once? Albus, feel free to punish him—detention, major demerits, anything is fine, just don't take away house points."

"That boy is too eager in class; no matter how many points I deduct, he earns them back in no time. It's useless."

Thinking back to the last time in his office when he tried to put Tom in detention, only to be met with the boy's impenetrable, oily attitude, Snape felt his blood boil.

This time, he would let Albus handle it and see if the boy dared to be so arrogant again!

Dumbledore was baffled by his colleague's protective yet righteous stance and blinked.

"Severus, you're acting strange today. You know the school rules; without catching him in the act, we cannot punish a student arbitrarily."

"Besides, I only saw him in the library by using a few minor tricks of my own."

His tone shifted, becoming serious: "I can tell you clearly: Tom Riddle is fine, and he has absolutely no connection to You-Know-Who."

"He is simply a student with great talent and a willingness to work hard."

As he said this, a trace of sorrow flickered in Dumbledore's eyes.

"I once met a genius like that, someone who had never touched magic before coming of age."

"Yet, not long after he was exposed to it, he possessed the power to blow up mountain peaks, and later, he was even able to trade blows with me."

Snape was listening intently, but Dumbledore suddenly stopped and pulled the conversation back.

"Therefore, we cannot simply suspect Riddle just because he is powerful."

"You are his Head of House and his professor; your job is to guide him, not to harbor suspicions against him. Do you understand?"

Snape didn't speak, though he knew in his heart that Dumbledore was right.

Ever since Voldemort's downfall, Dumbledore had been constantly reflecting on his own methods of education.

Back then, when he discovered the dark side of Voldemort, he had remained cold and guarded, even refusing his request to stay at the school, which had indirectly paved the way for the Dark Lord he eventually became.

Because of this, Dumbledore was now exceptionally patient with every student. Even with the former young Death Eaters, he only held them to the rules without ever interfering too much.

After all, the path is chosen by the students themselves; all a professor can do is guide them toward the right one.

Furthermore, Tom had not stepped out of line from beginning to end; he only visited the open sections of the library, and his display of power within Slytherin was merely to avoid trouble.

Even if he had ambition and craved power, there was nothing wrong with that. Which student at Hogwarts didn't have a bit of ambition?

After a long silence, Snape said in a muffled voice, "I understand."

"But I have a premonition that this boy, Riddle, is lawless. He's caused such a stir only a month into the term; who knows what he'll get up to over the next seven years."

"Then we shall wait and see." Dumbledore smiled. "A stagnant pool is boring; a little commotion now and then can make the school more lively."

"Quirinus, on the other hand, has been too quiet lately. I'm beginning to suspect my judgment might be wrong."

"He definitely has a problem!" Snape immediately chimed in, finally remembering his real business for the semester.

"I am certain he is working for You-Know-Who, and his target is the item you retrieved from Gringotts."

Dumbledore nodded, acknowledging his assessment.

"Quirinus is very guarded against me, so it is difficult for me to step in. I must rely on you to keep an eye on him and try to make him lower his guard."

"I understand." Snape said, expressionless. "Come to think of it, we are colleagues, so I will find a way."

"Remember to keep track of his movements," Dumbledore reminded him.

He knew Quirrell was working for Voldemort, but he never imagined that Voldemort would be bold enough to possess Quirrell himself and put himself in such danger.

Snape nodded, then couldn't help but ask, "Do you really think those defenses in the fourth-floor corridor can stop him?"

"Of course not." Dumbledore shook his head. "Quirinus was an excellent student in Ravenclaw back in his day; it is a pity he took the wrong path."

"The true defense has never been those obstacles, but the human heart."

Snape rolled his eyes, long accustomed to Dumbledore's penchant for speaking in riddles. "If there is nothing else, I am leaving."

"Go on, and try to be more lenient with Riddle."

Snape didn't respond and slammed the door as he left. The moment he was gone, the office erupted into chaos; the portraits of former headmasters, who had been pretending to sleep, all clung to their frames and began chattering away.

"Absurd! A first-year beating a seventh-year? Is this year's batch of Slytherins that fierce?" a bearded headmaster smacked his lips.

Another headmaster with a hooked nose scoffed, "Perhaps the previous years of Slytherins were just too stupid?"

"Rubbish! Slytherins are at their most advantageous during their student years. If they were stupid, wouldn't the students of our other houses be even more useless?"

"The name Tom Riddle is cursed; how are both people with that name monsters?"

"Should I go back and tell my descendants to name their newborns that, just to see if they can become geniuses too?"

"Hahaha, you must be an idiot! We are wizards, not fortune-tellers!"

A burst of wild laughter suddenly erupted as a gaunt, middle-aged headmaster with a handlebar mustache poked his head out, looking incredibly arrogant.

"When it comes down to it, it's our Slytherin that has the best feng shui—it breeds the best people!"

These words instantly infuriated several hot-tempered headmasters. Several figures leaped straight out of their frames and dove into his, throwing punches and kicks, and screams of agony immediately rang throughout the office.

No one stepped forward to help; this was Phineas Black, the only Slytherin headmaster in history, and also the most unpopular headmaster in the history of Hogwarts.

Back when he was headmaster, the four houses had rarely set aside their thousand-year-old grudges to unite against him and his meddling with the school, which showed just how much he was loathed.

While the scene here was turned upside down, Albus Dumbledore had no heart to pay it any mind, sitting behind his desk lost in deep thought.

He was thinking about many things: Quirrell's movements, Voldemort's schemes, and Tom's temperament.

He could tell that Tom acted too extremely and showed no mercy in his methods; with a nature like that, he would sooner or later invite trouble.

But how to guide him was a difficult problem; Tom was not some hot-blooded, impulsive brat like Harry.

He had survived through hardship and had long since developed his own way of doing things; lecturing him rashly would only provoke his defiance.

Albus Dumbledore sighed, his head aching terribly, and began to ponder once more where Voldemort might be hiding.