What concerned Snape more now was another question. "Does Wizet really have some unspeakable secret?"
"Of course he does!" Dumbledore smiled and answered brightly, as though it were only natural.
Only when the black tea was nearly buried beneath the piled-up sugar cubes did he finally set down the tongs. His fingertips tapped lightly against the tabletop, sending ripples across the tea that soon formed a tiny whirlpool.
"Severus, everyone has secrets they cannot tell, don't they?" He sounded as though he were talking to himself, yet also as though he were answering Snape's question.
"You have secrets, I have secrets, and Wizet is naturally no exception... But I don't think his secret is anything particularly significant."
"If he relied solely on those so-called secrets, he could never have come this far." He looked Snape directly in the eye and asked, "What do you think, Severus?"
Snape had long since grown accustomed to Dumbledore's manner of speaking.
Besides, Dumbledore was indeed right. Every step Wizet had taken along the path of magic had been remarkably solid.
Snape still remembered how, after discovering Wizet's exceptional talent, he had warned him: it was best not to keep using a particular technique, lest he become dependent on it. Potions should be brewed through extensive experience.
Wizet had heeded his warning and continued to do exactly that, never showing the slightest lapse.
With that thought, Snape understood that the answer to this question did not really matter.
"The Dark Lord has changed quite a bit..." he continued. "Compared to the face he had not long ago, he must have changed faces again. This one is more refined."
"And what impression did it give you?" Dumbledore asked curiously. "Some things have to be experienced firsthand before one can notice subtle changes."
"Voldemort from not long