Mrs. Cole stood up briskly. Her legs were still steady, not at all like someone who had drunk more than half a bottle of gin.
She led Snape and the two Dumbledores out of the office and up the stone staircase, shouting orders to her assistants as she went, all while scolding passing children at the top of her lungs.
All the orphans were dressed in identical gray tunics, clean and neat. They looked well cared for, but their faces were devoid of the liveliness children of their age should have had.
"Although this place isn't bad," Snape shrugged, "it can hardly be called a good one."
"Yes, Severus," Dumbledore nodded. "The atmosphere here is far too gloomy and oppressive."
"Since you were going to take Tom to Hogwarts anyway," Snape asked, voicing his curiosity, "why didn't you just let him grow up at the school?"
"No one has ever done that before," Dumbledore said helplessly. "Hogwarts has its rules. Young witches and wizards are only brought there when they reach the proper age."
"Right, orphans always seem destined to grow up in misfortune," Snape muttered quietly, an image of the cupboard under the stairs at Number 4 Privet Drive surfacing in his mind.
Mrs. Cole led them around the landing on the third floor and stopped at the first door along a long corridor.
She raised her hand and knocked twice, then pushed the door open directly.
Snape and the two Dumbledores entered, and Mrs. Cole closed the door behind them.
Inside the empty room sat a handsome black-haired boy on a gray blanket, his long legs stretched out in front of him, a book in his hands.
"He's quite good-looking," Snape remarked softly, "but fierce."
At that moment, Tom had his eyes wide open, glaring hard at the young Dumbledore, his gaze filled with suspicion and hostility, "I don't believe you. She sent you here to see if I'm mad, didn't she? Tell the truth!"
Then, to prove the existence of magic, and perhaps also to intimidate him, the young Dumbledore calmly drew his wand from the inner pocket of his velvet suit and flicked it lazily toward the shabby wardrobe in the corner.
Tom's wardrobe burst into flames at once.
At the young Dumbledore's command, Tom was forced to open the wardrobe door.
He poured the contents of a cardboard box onto his bed: a yo-yo with a string, a silver thimble, and a dull harmonica.
"At Hogwarts, we teach you not only how to use magic, but how to control it... The Ministry of Magic punishes lawbreakers more harshly... Once you enter our world, you must obey our laws..."
"I don't need you... I'm used to doing things on my own..."
"The Leaky Cauldron... Ask for the innkeeper, Tom... same name as yours..."
"I can talk to snakes..."
"Goodbye, Tom. I'll see you at Hogwarts..."
A few seconds later, Snape and Dumbledore were once again drifting lightly through darkness before landing firmly back in the real-world office.
"Professor, Voldemort despised the name 'Tom' so much," Snape said, sitting down before the Headmaster's desk, his expression peculiar. "It's a miracle that the innkeeper Tom of the Leaky Cauldron has managed to stay alive this long."
"Your attention to detail is remarkable," Dumbledore's lips twitched faintly, "but that isn't the focus of tonight. What we should consider now is what useful information we can extract from this memory."
"Oh, all right, then let's change the subject." Snape adjusted his posture slightly. "So you taught Tom by setting his wardrobe on fire, Professor?"
"I'm afraid so, Severus." Dumbledore sighed heavily. "I was too young then, too confident in the power of force."
"And when did you stop believing in force?" Snape pressed. "After 1945?
"I recall your Chocolate Frog card says you defeated the Dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945. Without power, I can't imagine that would've been possible."
Dumbledore was silent for a long while, staring straight at Snape.
When the Headmaster didn't answer, Snape continued, speaking to himself: "Professor, do you think if Tom had grown up with his parents, or had been raised by another loving wizarding family, he would have turned out the same way?"
"I don't know," Dumbledore sighed again. "No one can know the outcome of a what-if."
"Actually, I do have some doubts, or dissatisfaction, I should say." Snape frowned slightly and went on. "The wizarding world's way of dealing with young witches and wizards is far too crude.
"Children with magical ability often perform magic, whether intentionally or not. That, on one hand, can cause harm to others.
"On the other hand, it can cause harm to the young wizards themselves, or even provoke retaliation from Muggles. It's been like that for centuries, and it's still the same today. Has no one thought of a better way?"
Dumbledore's long beard trembled slightly. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself.
At that moment, behind Snape, Fawkes the phoenix let out a soft, melodious trill, then flapped his wings and landed on Dumbledore's shoulder, rubbing his head affectionately against the Headmaster's.
Snape suddenly noticed that Dumbledore's bright blue eyes were dimmer than usual.
"Severus," Dumbledore finally spoke, "do you truly want to help me fight Voldemort, or help him fight me?"
"What are you saying?" Snape realized too late how his words might have sounded. He quickly feigned confusion, eyes widening. "I don't know what you mean. Of course I'm helping you to fight Voldemort!"
Dumbledore did not pursue the matter. "I trust you see the importance of that memory now?"
"Yes, Professor." Snape straightened up and replied. "Young Tom liked to collect trophies.
"The things in that box were trophies he'd taken from others by various means. Perhaps we can assume he used a similar method to collect objects suitable for Horcruxes?"
"I agree. But judging by the diadem, I believe Tom would not choose ordinary trophies," said Dumbledore. "He had his own standards, he would be very deliberate about selecting the vessels for his soul fragments."
"It's a pity I couldn't obtain Mr. Burke's actual memory," Dumbledore said, raising his wand to his temple and drawing out a long silver thread, "but even his few words are of equal importance."