Orphanage

After assigning the homework essay, Professor Grubbly-Plank waited until the students had packed up and were ready to leave, then called Snape over and handed him a roll of parchment.

As Snape walked out, he unrolled the parchment. Familiar thin, slanted handwriting covered it—

"Dear Severus,

If you have no other arrangements today, please come to my office at seven this evening.

Yours sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

P.S. I dislike Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans."

"He dislikes Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans?" Aber said, leaning over to read Dumbledore's note, his face full of confusion.

"Good children are better off not knowing what that means."

Ignoring Aber's protests, Snape put away the parchment.

That evening, he followed the familiar corridors and once again arrived outside the Headmaster's office.

"Ha ha, of course I know them. The pair of stone beasts outside the teachers' office are my brothers."

"Yes, yes, we've all been forced apart from our bones for centuries."

The Stone Monster answered Snape in a deep voice.

After exchanging pleasantries with the Stone Monster at the door for a while, Snape passed through the moving Spiral Staircase behind it and arrived before Dumbledore's office door.

He raised a hand and lightly knocked on the door with his knuckles.

"Come in." Dumbledore's cheerful voice immediately came from inside, as though he had been waiting for Snape all along.

"Good evening, Professor." Snape pushed open the door and entered the Headmaster's office. "What did you want to see me about?"

"Ah, good evening, Severus. Have a seat." Dumbledore wore a gentle smile as he pointed at a nearby chair. "How was the first week of the new term?"

"Not bad, Professor." Snape sat down and asked directly, "Are we leaving?"

"Not yet." Dumbledore shook his head. "I think we need to make some preparations before we set off."

"Dumbledore, your choice this time was very wise." An Old Headmaster in one of the portraits had been asleep, but suddenly let out a long yawn and opened his eyes. "A Slytherin is absolutely indispensable when it comes to solving problems."

He was a wizard with a goatee and an intelligent-looking face, dressed in silver-and-green Slytherin robes.

"Phineas," Dumbledore called the intelligent-looking wizard by name, "Slytherin has always been a part of Hogwarts."

"Are you the legendary Headmaster who earned unanimous 'praise' from all four houses?" Snape looked up at Phineas with some curiosity in his tone, deliberately stressing the word "praise."

"Oh, good boy." Phineas seemed not to catch the sarcasm and said with satisfaction, "Young Slytherins are sometimes quite right."

"You are right, Phineas." Dumbledore turned back and smiled at Snape. "I called you here because, since you already know that Voldemort is Tom Riddle.

"And since he chose Ravenclaw's Diadem as his Horcrux, it is time for you to learn more."

After saying that, Dumbledore paused for a moment before continuing.

"Last term, you deduced Tom's identity through your research into history. Inspired by you, I further realized the importance of investigating Tom's past, so I conducted some inquiries as well.

"I went to Borgin and Bork and had a friendly conversation with Caractacus Bork."

"Friendly enough to send him to St Mungo's?" The corners of Snape's mouth lifted slightly.

"Oh, that was an accident. You know, Bork was not especially cooperative."

As Dumbledore spoke, he stood up, walked around the desk, and passed Snape.

Snape turned in his chair and watched Dumbledore walk to the cabinet by the door containing books related to Horcruxes, then bend down and open it.

When Dumbledore straightened up, he was holding a shallow stone basin that Snape had seen with Slughorn last time, its rim carved with a ring of strange runes.

Dumbledore placed the Pensieve on the table before Snape.

"Are we going into Bork's memory, Professor?" Snape asked.

"No." Dumbledore shook his head. "For now, we will enter my memory first. You go first, Severus..."

Snape bent over the Pensieve, plunging his face into its cold memories. Then he once again fell uncontrollably through darkness... A few seconds later, his feet touched solid ground.

He opened his eyes and found himself standing with Dumbledore on a busy old-fashioned street in London.

At an unhurried pace, they followed a young Albus Dumbledore, dressed in a tailored crimson velvet suit, across the road and all the way to a square building with a sign reading "Wool's Orphanage" hanging on its wall.

After passing through a large iron gate, they entered a bare courtyard.

Behind the courtyard stood a square, grim, old-fashioned building surrounded by tall iron railings.

"This was the orphanage where Tom stayed as a child?" Snape asked.

At that moment, the young Dumbledore was speaking with a slovenly young woman in an apron.

"Yes." Dumbledore nodded, a hint of recollection in his eyes. "Let us follow them."

An anxious-looking Mrs. Cole led them into a room that seemed to be half sitting room and half office.

The room was as shabby and sparse as the Entrance Hall. The furniture was old and mismatched.

"You personally came to invite Tom to Hogwarts back then?" Snape asked another question to which he already knew the answer. "And how does this help us find the Horcruxes?"

"Be patient, Severus." Dumbledore pointed at Mrs. Cole.

Holding a glass of Gin, Mrs. Cole calmly recounted a story from many years ago:

"I remember it perfectly, because I had only just started working here then. It was New Year's Eve, and it was snowing outside, bitterly cold...

"That girl, she could not have been much older than I was then, staggered up the front steps... Less than an hour later, she gave birth to the child. Less than another hour after that, she died..."

Mrs. Cole nodded meaningfully and took another large gulp of Gin.

"But no one from the Tom, Marvolo, or Riddle family ever came looking for him, and he did not seem to have any relatives at all..."

Almost absentmindedly, Mrs. Cole poured herself another full glass of Gin. Two red patches bloomed over her cheekbones.

"What was Voldemort's mother called, Professor?" Snape asked.

"Merope Gaunt, or rather, Merope Riddle," Dumbledore said. "Come, Severus. Let us go meet eleven-year-old Tom."

There have still been no recommendations. At one hundred thousand words, the numbers are still not enough. I really am too mediocre.

I need to reflect on the problems with this book.

I will not make any promises about continuing to write it either. People who say that probably end up dropping it anyway, right? At least there are still some stories in my head that have not made it onto paper. I will do my best to write them for everyone to read, if anyone is still willing to read.

I am truly sorry, everyone. Thank you for your reading, votes, and donations so far. Sorry.