Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

This time he disappeared for a full ten years, during which no one, except Voldemort himself, knew what he had been doing.

From the few clues that remained, it could be inferred that, following the traditions of ancient wizards, he had traveled the world, concealing his identity and visiting many places. But Voldemort did not do this to broaden his horizons — rather, he sought out various Dark wizards to further study Dark magic.

Due to his excessive exposure to Horcruxes and the various evil magical alterations he made to his body, his appearance gradually became unrecognizable. No one could recognize the once outstanding and handsome boy, and he began publicly using the name “Voldemort.”

This was probably his main experience during the ten years of his disappearance. During this period, Voldemort experienced evil that ordinary people could not imagine, which made him the Dark Lord later.

After that, he no longer murdered in secret or tried to frame others. Instead, he spread fear openly and brazenly. As the Dark Lord, Voldemort now had the power to do so.

“This evening we only have this one memory. Let’s enter the Pensieve,” said Dumbledore. “This memory is mine. In it, you will see what Voldemort looked like when he reappeared after ten years of disappearance.”

Evan and Harry dived after Dumbledore through the shifting silver mass, landing in the very office they had just left.

There was Fawkes slumbering happily on his perch, and there behind the desk was Dumbledore, who looked very similar to the Dumbledore standing beside Evan and Harry, with his long beard already white, but perhaps with a few less wrinkles on his face.

The one difference between the present-day office and this one was that it was snowing in the past; bluish flecks were drifting past the window in the dark and building up on the outside ledge.

The younger Dumbledore seemed to be waiting for something, and sure enough, moments after their arrival, there was a knock on the door and he said, “Enter.”

Evan found a more comfortable position, and he saw Voldemort enter the room.

Although he was prepared, Evan was still surprised. The Voldemort in front of him had different features than now: They were not as snakelike, the eyes were not yet scarlet, the face not yet masklike, and yet he was no longer handsome Tom Riddle.

It was as though his features had been burned and blurred; they were waxy and oddly distorted, and the whites of the eyes now had a permanently bloody look, though the pupils were still normal, unlike now when they had completely turned into two slits.

He was wearing a long black cloak, and his face was as pale as the snow glistening on his shoulders.

It was terrifying — absolutely the appearance of a monster from a nightmare or a horror story. A monster of the highest terror level!

The Dumbledore behind the desk showed no sign of surprise. Evidently this visit had been made by appointment, and he was also prepared for Voldemort’s appearance.

“Good evening, Tom. It’s been a long time,” said Dumbledore easily. “Won’t you sit down?”

“Thank you,” said Voldemort, his voice cold, and he took the seat to which Dumbledore had gestured. “I heard that you had become headmaster. A worthy choice.”

“I am glad you approve,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “May I offer you a drink?”

“That would be welcome,” said Voldemort. “I have come a long way.”

Dumbledore stood and swept over to the cabinet where he now kept the Pensieve, but which then was full of bottles.

Having handed Voldemort a goblet of wine and poured one for himself, he returned to the seat behind his desk.

“So, Tom … to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Voldemort did not answer at once, but merely sipped his wine, savoring the taste, as though he truly enjoyed it.

“They do not call me ‘Tom’ anymore. No one has used that name in a long time. “These days, I am known as —”

“I know what you are known as,” said Dumbledore, smiling pleasantly. “But to me, I’m afraid, you will always be Tom Riddle, the little boy I met in the orphanage. It is one of the irritating things about old teachers, Tom. I am afraid that they never quite forget their charges’ youthful beginnings.” ℞ΑΝỒβĚȿ

He raised his glass as though toasting Voldemort, whose face remained expressionless, and the atmosphere in the room changed subtly, becoming colder.

Dumbledore’s refusal to use Voldemort’s chosen name was a refusal to allow Voldemort to dictate the terms of the meeting.

Voldemort clearly took it as such, and it was not just about dictating the terms of the meeting — being called Tom seemed to irritate him deeply, a reminder of something he did not wish to remember or acknowledge.

“I am surprised you have remained here so long,” Voldemort swirled the wine in his glass and said after a short pause. “I always wondered why a wizard such as yourself never wished to leave school.”

“Well,” said Dumbledore, still smiling, “to a wizard such as myself, there can be nothing more important than passing on ancient skills, helping hone young minds. If I remember correctly, you once saw the attraction of teaching too.”

“I see it still,” said Voldemort. “I merely wondered why you — who are so often asked for advice by the Ministry, and who have twice, I think, been offered the post of Minister —”

“Three times at the last count, actually,” said Dumbledore. “But the Ministry never attracted me as a career. Again, something we have in common, I think.”

Voldemort inclined his head, unsmiling, and took another sip of wine, as though considering what to say next.

The atmosphere in the office was delicate and tense. Dumbledore did not break the silence that stretched between them now, but waited, with a look of pleasant expectancy, for Voldemort to talk first.

He had always been in control of the initiative, both in momentum and in topic. In the entire Wizarding World, only Dumbledore could do that.

“I have returned,” said Voldemort, after a little while, “later, perhaps, than Professor Dippet expected … but I have returned, nevertheless, to request again what he once told me I was too young to have. I have come to you to ask that you permit me to return to this castle, to teach. I think you must know that I have seen and done much since I left this place. I could show and tell your students things they can gain from no other wizard.”

Dumbledore considered Voldemort over the top of his own goblet for a while before speaking.

“Yes, I certainly do know that you have seen and done much since leaving us,” he said quietly. “Rumors of your doings have reached your old school, Tom. I should be sorry to believe half of them.”

“Really? Sorry?” said Voldemort, his expression remaining impassive. “Greatness inspires envy, envy engenders spite, spite spawns lies. You must know this, Dumbledore.”

“You call it ‘greatness,’ what you have been doing, do you?” asked Dumbledore delicately.

“Certainly,” said Voldemort, and his eyes seemed to burn red. “I have experimented; I have pushed the boundaries of magic further, perhaps, than they have ever been pushed —”

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