Chapter 329: Waiting
Before this, when Professor Lupin warned that Voldemort was on the verge of resurrection, Harry and the others had quietly believed he was worrying too much.
After all, Dumbledore had been saying similar things for more than a decade.
In their minds, even if Voldemort truly still existed, regaining a physical body should have been almost impossible. The Philosopher's Stone was gone. There was no second miracle waiting to restore him.
But now, something had changed.
They had realized one crucial fact.
Voldemort might not be trying to return in the traditional sense—he might be trying to eliminate obstacles before fully reviving himself.
And Antonin Dolohov was clearly part of that plan.
"Draco… is your father all right?" Harry asked cautiously.
Ron turned toward Draco, his expression unusually serious. "After Voldemort deals with Dolohov and Azkaban, the next target could be your dad."
"It probably has something to do with that wand," Harry added. "What kind of wand does your father use?"
Draco frowned. "I'm not sure. My father inherited it from my grandfather."
He hesitated, then continued quietly, "My grandfather… had a good relationship with Voldemort."
The implication hung heavily between them.
"Then—" Draco straightened suddenly. "I'm writing to my father."
"I should write to my dad too," Ron said immediately. "At least warn him about Azkaban."
Harry nodded. "I'll write to Sirius. He always believes me—no matter how strange it sounds."
The three of them exchanged a look.
"Then let's all write letters."
If they stayed silent, everything might unfold exactly as Voldemort intended.
They didn't know that someone else at Hogwarts already knew far more than they did.
Someone whose connection to Voldemort ran far deeper.
At that very moment, in the Headmaster's office, Professor Tom Riddle was seated opposite Albus Dumbledore.
"According to what you sensed," Dumbledore said slowly, no longer sounding relaxed, "Voldemort died again last night?"
"Yes," Riddle replied calmly. "I tried to trace more information through our connection. I'll report the details later."
He gave a faint, contemptuous smile. "He's always been wary of me. If he hadn't been destroyed again last night, I doubt I would've noticed he had found a new body at all."
To Riddle, the being called Voldemort was nothing more than a remnant clinging stubbornly to existence.
All he needed was patience.
Like a snake waiting to strike.
"I hope this 'body' is not someone I recognize," Dumbledore said quietly, unease creeping into his voice.
He dreaded hearing the name of another Quirinus Quirrell—a kind man with a promising future, ruined.
A part of him even found himself hoping, rather guiltily, that it would be someone like Fudge or Umbridge.
Power-hungry. Desperate.
The sort who would sell their soul willingly.
"A name Lupin would not be surprised to hear," Riddle replied.
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "Greyback?"
"Yes."
For a brief moment, both men smiled.
The atmosphere lightened, if only slightly.
"So," Dumbledore continued, rubbing his hands together, "where did Voldemort fall this time? Did he reveal anything before he disappeared?"
"No."
Riddle shrugged. "Judging by the direction of the residual magic… somewhere near Yorkshire."
Dumbledore sighed, disappointed—but only briefly. He straightened again, sharpness returning to his gaze. "You didn't come here just to tell me that."
Riddle's lips curved faintly. "Harry Potter."
"You believe Harry knows more than he realizes."
"He's a Horcrux Voldemort himself doesn't even know exists," Riddle said calmly. "And that connection cannot be blocked—because Voldemort doesn't know it needs to be."
Dumbledore nodded slowly.
"I'll have Dobby fetch Harry at once—"
Before Riddle could finish, a sharp crack echoed through the office.
Dobby appeared instantly.
"Dobby is here! Dobby will help Professor Dumbledore catch the mysterious man!" The house-elf stood proudly, eyes shining—his gaze fixed entirely on Dumbledore, as though Riddle were invisible.
Riddle raised an eyebrow. "You know Harry Potter, don't you? Did he ask you to watch me?"
"It has nothing to do with Harry Potter!" Dobby said loudly, his ears trembling. "Dobby did it voluntarily!"
"Dobby," Dumbledore said gently, "there's no need to inform Harry yet."
"And you don't need to keep an eye on Tom anymore."
"He is mine."
Dumbledore dabbed at his eyes, visibly moved. A timid house-elf standing up to Tom Riddle—out of loyalty to Harry—was no small thing.
"Well," Riddle said dryly, "I'll choose to believe Potter didn't send you."
He sighed. "Strange, really. He trusts me—because you trust me."
"Dobby," Dumbledore said, regaining composure, "for now, we wait."
"Harry is cautious. If he learns something important, he'll reach out on his own."
"I agree," Riddle said. "Waiting is the correct move."
"If necessary, I'll ask you to inform Harry later," Dumbledore added.
Dobby bowed deeply—and vanished.
Riddle watched the space where he had stood. "Are you certain he's a house-elf?"
Dobby's attire alone was baffling: a teapot cozy perched on his head, colorful badges pinned all over it, a horseshoe-patterned tie around his bare chest, mismatched socks, and something resembling children's football shorts.
"It's… a lot," Riddle admitted.
Dumbledore chuckled. "He's also asked for a salary."
Riddle shook his head in disbelief. "Typical of someone Harry Potter befriends."
He sighed. "A Weasley in Ravenclaw. A kind-hearted Malfoy. All because of him."
"I suppose it all comes down to—" Dumbledore began.
"Love?" Riddle interrupted flatly.
"Yes."
Riddle snorted. "You always reduce everything to love."
He paused, then spoke more thoughtfully. "Harry Potter possesses a certain temperament. Exceptional affinity for white magic, enhanced by his mother's spellwork."
"A presence that inspires goodwill."
"Temperament grows from within," Dumbledore replied calmly. "The real reason is simple."
"Harry is a kind child."
"I disagree."
Once again, the debate drifted toward love and human nature.
The portraits of former headmasters pretended to sleep, entirely unsurprised.
They had heard this argument before.
And they would hear it again.
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