Tom Isn't Easy

Mrs. Cole stood up briskly, her legs still steady, not at all like someone who had downed most of a bottle of gin.

She led Snape and the two Dumbledores out of the office again, up the stone staircase, shouting orders to her helpers as she went, not forgetting to loudly scold the children they passed.

The orphans all wore identical gray tunics, neat and clean. They appeared reasonably well cared for, but their faces lacked any of the liveliness typical of children that age.

"It's not terrible here," Snape shrugged, "but it's hardly a good place either."

"Yes, Severus." Dumbledore nodded. "The atmosphere here is too gloomy and oppressive."

"Since you're going to take Tom to Hogwarts anyway, why not just let him grow up at the school?" Snape voiced the question in his mind.

"No one has ever done that. Hogwarts has its rules." Dumbledore said helplessly. "Young wizards are only brought to the school when they reach the appropriate age."

"Yes, orphans always seem to grow up in misfortune, inevitably." Snape muttered, his mind involuntarily drifting to the cupboard under the stairs at Number Four, Privet Drive, the Dursleys' house.

Mrs. Cole led them around a corner on the third-floor landing and stopped at the first door in a long corridor.

She raised her hand, knocked twice, and pushed the door open directly.

Snape and the two Dumbledores entered the room together, and Mrs. Cole closed the door behind them.

In the empty room, a handsome black-haired boy sat on a gray blanket, his long legs stretched out in front of him, holding a book and reading.

"He's good-looking," Snape commented quietly, "but also fierce."

At that moment, Tom was staring wide-eyed at the young Dumbledore, his gaze full of vigilance and suspicion—"I don't believe you. She wants someone to examine me, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"

Then, to prove the existence of magic to Tom, and perhaps also for intimidation, the young Dumbledore unhurriedly drew his wand from the inner pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner, and waved it casually.

Tom's wardrobe burst into flames at once...

At the young Dumbledore's command, Tom was forced to open the wardrobe door.

He emptied the contents of a cardboard box onto his bed, among them a yo-yo, a silver thimble, and a tarnished harmonica.

"At Hogwarts, we not only teach you to use magic, but also to control it... The Ministry of Magic punishes lawbreakers far more severely... Once you enter our world, you must obey our laws..."

"I don't need you... I'm used to doing things myself..."

"The Leaky Cauldron... Ask for the barman, Tom... Same name as yours..."

"I can talk to snakes..."

"Goodbye, Tom. We'll see you at Hogwarts..."

Seconds later, Snape and Dumbledore were once again floating lightly through the darkness, then landing steadily in the real office.

"Professor, Voldemort really dislikes the name 'Tom,'" Snape said, sitting down at the Headmaster's desk with a peculiar expression. "It's a wonder the barman Tom at the Leaky Cauldron is still alive."

"Your association is meticulous," Dumbledore's mouth twitched, "but that's not the focus tonight. We should think more about what useful information we can glean from this memory."

"Oh, alright, let's change the subject." Snape adjusted his sitting posture slightly. "Was that how you educated Tom—by setting the wardrobe on fire?"

"I'm sorry, Severus." Dumbledore let out a heavy sigh. "I was too young back then, too trusting in power."

"So when did you stop trusting in power so much?" Snape pressed. "After 1945?"

"I recall the Chocolate Frog card says you defeated the Dark Wizard Grindelwald in 1945. Without power, I'm sure that wouldn't have been possible."

Dumbledore was silent for a long time, staring straight at Snape.

Seeing the Headmaster not answer, Snape continued on his own: "Professor, if Tom had had parents growing up, or been raised by another loving wizarding family, do you think he would have turned out that way later?"

"I don't know," Dumbledore sighed again. "No one can know the result of a hypothetical."

"Actually, I still have some doubts, or perhaps complaints." Snape frowned slightly, then continued. "The wizarding world's approach to young wizards is far too crude.

"Children with magical talent will consciously or unconsciously use their power, which on one hand might harm others.

"On the other hand, it could also lead to the young wizard being directly harmed, or indirectly inviting Muggle retaliation. This has been the case for centuries, and it's still the same now. Isn't there a better way?"

Dumbledore's long beard trembled uncontrollably. He took a few deep breaths, struggling to calm himself.

At that moment, behind Snape, the phoenix Fawkes let out a soft, melodious cry, then fluttered his wings and landed on Dumbledore's shoulder, rubbing his head against Dumbledore's.

Snape suddenly noticed that Dumbledore's bright blue eyes had dimmed somewhat.

"Severus," Dumbledore finally spoke, "are you trying to help me against Voldemort, or are you trying to help him against me?"

"What kind of talk is that?" Snape realized the impropriety of his own words and quickly feigned ignorance, widening his eyes. "I don't understand what you mean. Of course I'm wholeheartedly with you against Voldemort!"

Dumbledore didn't press the issue: "I think you should realize the importance of this memory, shouldn't you?"

"Yes, Professor." Snape sat up straight and replied. "Little Tom liked collecting trophies.

"That box held things he had taken from others by various means. Perhaps we can assume he would use the same method to collect objects suitable as vessels for Horcruxes?"

"I agree. But from the diadem, I don't think Tom would choose ordinary trophies." Dumbledore said. "He has his own standards; he would definitely carefully select containers for his soul fragments."

"It's a pity I couldn't directly obtain Mr. Bork's memory," Dumbledore said, raising his wand and pressing its tip to his temple, drawing out a long, silvery strand, "but his fragments of speech hold equally important value."

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