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Chapter 163: An Old Friend
Chapter 163: An Old Friend
"The Great Hall."
A woman's voice echoed coldly in the elevator, and the golden gates opened to reveal Dumbledore and Weed walking out together.
After walking for a while, they came across a large fountain in the middle of a foyer. At its center stood a pure gold statue of a handsome and noble wizard raising his wand, with a beautiful witch gazing at him adoringly. Surrounding them were centaurs, fairies, and house-elves looking up in infinite admiration.
The bottom of the fountain was filled with sparkling coins, and a small sign next to it read:
All proceeds from the Fountain of Magical Brotherhood are donated to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.
Both men paused by the fountain and looked up at the statue.
"A fine work of art, isn't it?"
Dumbledore tossed a handful of coins into the fountain and said with a smile, "But I suppose only wizards and house-elves would appreciate this piece. Centaurs and fairies may not find it pleasing to their eyes."
"Fairies would love the gold on it," Weed countered.
Dumbledore laughed and said, "True."
"Will the money really be used for the patients?" Weed asked. "Wishing wells in the Muggle world are mostly just money-making props."
"You can rest assured on that front, magic tends to make wizards a bit more trustworthy," Dumbledore said.
Weed then took out a handful of coins and threw them in as well. The golden Galleons stood out among the silver Sickles and bronze Knuts.
A stream of water sprayed out from the ear of the house-elf statue, falling onto the water in front of Weed with a loud splash, and the resulting spray seemed to glisten with a golden hue.
After a moment of silence, Dumbledore sighed and said, "Wizards, centaurs, fairies, and house-elves—we are all equal in intelligence and magic... Just as wizards, Squibs, and Muggles are all equal as humans."
"Each race makes up our world and is an integral part of society. Yet, the prejudice and arrogance of wizards often bring suffering to other races, and wizards end up reaping the bitter fruits of their actions."
"Isn't it the same even among wizards?"
Weed said, "Purebloods look down on half-bloods and Muggle-borns, aristocrats scorn commoners, the rich despise the poor, and the intelligent mock the foolish... Even without racial differences, hierarchies of contempt exist everywhere."
"But some contempt provides us with the drive to improve," Dumbledore said. "While others are subjected to hardship purely because of their birthright."
Weed remained silent.
Dumbledore might have been alluding to house-elves, Squibs, or even Muggles.
He was discussing issues that most children wouldn't ponder, but Weed had no desire to reveal his inner thoughts.
After a moment of silence, Dumbledore spoke in a lighthearted tone, "Shall we continue?"
"Professor, where are we going?" Weed asked as he caught up with him.
"You didn't know our destination, yet you chose to follow me?" Dumbledore asked with a hint of mischief.
"You're Dumbledore," Weed said simply.
Dumbledore laughed again.
This time, his laughter held a touch of sincerity. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes fanned out as his blue eyes crinkled behind his half-moon glasses.
"I want to introduce you to someone," he said. "An old friend I haven't seen in a long time."
...
As they exited the Ministry of Magic, Dumbledore asked, "Have you ever tried Apparating with a companion, Weed?"
"No, Professor," Weed shook his head.
"Then I can guide you through the experience. You'll need to hold tightly onto my arm. It's not the most pleasant sensation, but rest assured, I'll ensure your safety," Dumbledore offered his arm and explained.
Weed grasped Dumbledore's arm.
Dumbledore was tall, and Weed felt that it made him look even more like a child in comparison.
"Very well, let's be off!"
As soon as Dumbledore finished speaking, Weed felt a strong sense of compression, as if the air from all directions was pressing down on him, trying to squeeze his body into a ping-pong ball...
"Puh!" Weed felt as if he had been squeezed out of a narrow tube, his body instantly restoring itself as if his limbs had been freshly regrown.
He paused to catch his breath, then looked up to see Dumbledore patiently waiting for him to recover.
"Are you alright?" Dumbledore asked concernedly. "That feeling takes some getting used to."
"I'm fine," Weed exhaled. "I heard that during the war, underage children had to learn to Apparate with a companion."
"Yes, that was indeed the case back then," Dumbledore said.
Weed looked around. They were in a strange valley with a winding, shadowy path leading into a dense forest. On a nearby hillside stood a delicate yet dilapidated old house, and not far away was a graveyard overgrown with weeds.
The surroundings did not seem inhabited.
Weed vaguely sensed something, but he did not ask any questions. He followed Dumbledore in silence along the winding path.
Dumbledore did not make him guess either. He waved his wand, and a mist appeared. Soon, Weed saw two vague figures appearing in the distance.
He could not make out their faces, only that they were a man and a woman. The man was mounted on a horse, dressed in fine and exquisite clothing; the woman was bent over, her back also slightly curved, and she wore tattered rags.
They looked extremely mismatched, yet the man held the woman in his arms on the horse, and the two rode off together along the winding path.
"Many years ago, there was a young couple here - Tom Riddle, the handsome son of a Muggle family, and Merope Gaunt, the daughter of a wizarding family. They eloped together, causing quite the scandal at the time."
"In the eyes of the villagers, Riddle was the local gentleman, while the Gaunts were a bunch of crazy vagrants. They were a completely mismatched pair. So, a few months later, when Tom Riddle returned to the village alone, nobody was surprised."
In the mist, a man stumbled back, now without the girl by his side.
Dumbledore extended his arm. "Come, let me show you what became of Merope."
Weed grasped his arm once more.
"Bang!" The two appeared in a narrow alley.
Dumbledore cast a Disillusionment Charm, and as they walked out of the alley, Weed recognized that they were in a London neighborhood.
There were some Muggles on the street, but they couldn't see Weed or Dumbledore at all.
The mist appeared again, and a blurry, heavily pregnant woman trudged wearily down the street, with faint snowflakes falling on her shoulders.
Weed followed behind her, hearing Dumbledore say, "Merope, now without her husband, was pregnant and lived in poverty. On a night of wind and snow, she gave birth to a child in the orphanage ahead."
The blurry figure of the woman collapsed, and the people in the yard next door heard the noise. They rushed out of the large iron gate, calling to each other, and together they helped the woman into the house.
The scene flickered, and a baby was born.
A woman in an apron held the baby and brought him close to his mother. The woman struggled to say something, then fell silent, her arm hanging powerlessly.
"After giving birth to this child, Merope passed away. In her final moments, she gave the child the same name as his father - Tom Marvolo Riddle."
(End of Chapter)
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