"Sir-if the person was caught... if it all stopped..."
"What do you mean?" Dippet asked, rising from his chair, his voice rather sharp. "Riddle, are you saying you know something about these attacks?"
"No, sir," Riddle said quickly.
Dippet sank back into his chair, looking slightly disappointed.
"You may go, Tom..."
Riddle slid off his chair and trudged out of the room.
The others followed.
They went down the spiral staircase, then emerged beside the gargoyle in the darkening corridor. Riddle stopped, and they stopped too, watching him.
Cyrus felt very strange. Although he had watched this memory more times than he could count, this was the first time he had brought anyone else along. Especially when the owner of the memory looked exactly like him now.
The Riddle in the memory was deep in thought, biting his lip, his forehead creased.
Then he seemed to make up his mind suddenly and hurried off, with the others following silently behind. They saw no one along the way. At last, they reached the Entrance Hall, where a tall wizard greeted Riddle from the Marble Staircase.
"What are you doing, Tom? Wandering around this late?"
"It's Dumbledore!"
Ron stared at the wizard, dumbstruck. It was none other than Dumbledore, fifty years younger. It was a very strange feeling, as though they were traveling through time. The gray world seemed to be the color of time itself, and they were moving against its current, savoring sweets that did not belong to them like thieves.
"I never thought I'd get to see Dumbledore this young," Harry said blankly. The Dumbledore of fifty years ago was very different from the Dumbledore of today. Back then, he had long, flowing auburn hair and a beard, and his face was not nearly so aged.
But perhaps because