Hogwarts: Oh no, I've become Voldemort!

“So, Mr. Riddle, I mean, have you found anything? Or do you know who was the last one to open the Chamber of Secrets?” Harry was eager to know some secrets so he could find the real murderer and clear his name.

Especially after he revealed his Parsleyan accent and Justin was petrified, almost everyone believed he was the murderer.

“Ginny said that the time the locked room was opened fifty years ago, it was you who caught the murderer.”

“It’s me, but I’m afraid you won’t believe it—” Cyrus said tactfully.

“What does this mean? We need the truth, Mr. Riddle! We can’t let the Heirs do evil anymore! We believe that the person who opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago and this one might have some connection!” Harry said anxiously.

“Alright, if you’d like, I can take you there,” Cyrus replied. “You don’t need to hear my story. I can take you into my memory, into the night I caught him.”

"But how do we do it?"

“Find an empty classroom and wait for me there.” Cyrus had finally managed to erase the diary from their memories, so naturally he wouldn’t take it out in front of them. Coincidentally, he had previously found a broken Pensieve in the room where things were hidden in the Room of Requirement, which he had later repaired.

"It was originally a little gadget prepared for Draco, but I didn't expect it to come in handy now."

Having obtained the Pensieve, Cyrus used the Marauder's Map to pinpoint Harry and the others' location. He immediately headed there.

"How did you know we were here?" Ron asked in surprise when he saw Cyrus find him so accurately. But soon, he was drawn to what Cyrus was holding. "What are you doing—washing your face?"

“This is a Pensieve!” Hermione exclaimed, her eyes wide.

What is the Pensieve?

“It’s an alchemical tool that can preserve thoughts and memories in the mind,” Cyrus explained, as he used the tip of his wand to extract a small piece of silver memory from his temple.

"You can think of it as the Pensieve allowing you, and others, to see what happened back then again in a third-person time. Like watching a movie, understand?"

Cyrus tossed that wisp of memory into the Pensieve and then stirred it up. Soon, the silver object became transparent, looking like glass.

"follow me."

Cyrus deliberately entered his own thoughts. He fell into a cold, dark substance, as if being sucked into a black vortex—

"What do we do?" Ron watched Cyrus disappear, and a sense of hesitation arose in his heart.

“Follow him!” Harry said without hesitation. Before he could finish speaking, Ginny had already become the second person to enter the Pensieve. Then came Harry, Hermione, and finally Ron.

Before they could even react, they found themselves in a strange new space.

They immediately knew where they were.

The round room with a portrait of a sleeping man hanging on the wall was Dumbledore's office—but the person sitting behind the desk wasn't Dumbledore, but a frail-looking, withered wizard with only a few strands of white hair on his bald head, reading a letter by candlelight. Harry had never seen this man before.

“He is Professor Dippet, who was the headmaster of Hogwarts fifty years ago,” Cyrus explained to them.

He spoke loudly as usual, which made Harry and the others nervous.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, his voice trembling, “shouldn’t we be quieter and hide…”

But the wizard didn't even look up. He continued reading the letter, his brow furrowing slightly.

“Don’t worry, they can’t see us; they’re just memories. Just like me,” Cyrus explained. Harry and the others were relieved.

At this moment, the old wizard sighed, folded the letter, stood up, walked past Harry without even looking at him, and went straight to draw back the curtains.

The sky outside the window was ablaze with crimson clouds; it seemed to be sunset. The wizard returned to the table, sat down, and absentmindedly fiddled with his two thumbs, gazing towards the doorway.

Someone was knocking on the office door.

"Come in," the old wizard said in a weak, feeble voice.

A boy of about sixteen entered and removed his pointed hat. A silver prefect badge gleamed on his chest. He looked exactly like Cyrus, tall, with black hair and eyes.

“This person is me,” Cyrus explained, though in fact, even without him saying it, everyone else could tell.

“He’s way better looking than Lockhart!” Ron nudged Hermione with his elbow, and Hermione’s face immediately turned red.

"Ah, Riddle," said the headmaster.

"You want to see me, Professor Dippet?" Riddell said, sounding somewhat nervous.

"Sit down," Dippet said. "I've been reading the letter you gave me."

"Oh," Riddle said. He sat down, his hands clenched tightly together.

"My dear child," Dippet said kindly, "I can't let you stay at school for the summer. Surely you'd prefer to come home for the holidays?"

"No," Riddle said immediately, "I'd rather stay at Hogwarts than go to that—that—"

"You're staying at a Muggle orphanage during your vacation, are you?" Dippet asked curiously.

“Mr. Riddle, you never told me this…” Ginny looked at Cyrus with pity, her face full of sadness. She had no idea that “Mr. Riddle” had such a past.

“It’s nothing,” Cyrus simply shook his head. “I don’t want people to think I’m pathetic, Ginny.”

These were his heartfelt words. Useless sympathy offers no solace.

Harry agreed more than anyone else. He felt a closer connection to Tom Riddle. Their experiences were so similar, almost like brothers separated by fifty years.

"Yes, sir," Riddle said, blushing slightly.

Are you Muggle-born?

"You're a mixed-race man, sir," Riddle said. "Your father is a Muggle, and your mother is a wizard."

Your parents are both—

My mother died shortly after giving birth to me, sir. They told me in the orphanage that she only had time to name me: 'Tom,' after my father; and my middle name, 'Marvolo,' after my maternal grandfather.

Dippet clicked his tongue sympathetically.

"Here's the thing, Tom," he said with a sigh, "we were thinking of making some special arrangements for you, but given the current situation..."

"Are you referring to all of these attacks, sir?" Riddell asked.

Harry's heart started racing, and he leaned closer, afraid of missing a single word.

"Absolutely right," the headmaster said. "My dear child, you must see how foolish it would have been if I had allowed you to remain in the castle after the term ended. Especially after that recent tragedy… that poor little girl is dead… you would have been much safer in the orphanage. To tell you the truth, the Ministry of Magic is even discussing closing the school. As for the root cause of all these unfortunate events—oh—we still have no clue…"

Riddle's eyes widened.

"You are very sad."

“I just don’t want the school to be closed. So I have to hand over the murderer. Even if he didn’t mean to kill,” Cyrus said calmly. He was giving Harry and the others a heads-up, so he deliberately emphasized “didn’t mean to kill.”

Harry could understand Riddle's thoughts from his memories.

Hogwarts always provides the warmest refuge for the homeless.

This was the first home he knew, the best home. He, Mr. Riddle, and other abandoned boys all found a home here…

Thank you so much to the gentleman with the 500-point reward (9527), thank you so much!

Chapter 51 The Heir (This chapter has a lot of plot in the original work, so I'll leave it here)

Sir—if that person gets caught…if everything stops…

"What do you mean?" Dippet asked, standing up from his chair. His voice was harsh. "Riddle, are you saying you know something about these attacks?"

"No, sir," Riddle said quickly.

Dippet slumped back down, looking slightly disappointed.

You can leave now, Tom...

Riddle slid off his chair and dragged himself out of the room.

Several people followed.

They descended the spiral staircase and emerged from beside a monstrous drip-shaped spout in the gradually darkening corridor. Riddle stopped, and they stopped too, staring at him.

Cyrus had a strange feeling. Although he had seen this memory countless times, this was the first time he had shown it to someone else. Especially since the owner of the memory looked exactly like him now.

In my memory, Riddle was deep in thought, biting his lip, wrinkles forming on his forehead.

Then, as if suddenly having made up his mind, he hurried away, and the others followed silently behind. They didn't see a single person along the way. Finally, they arrived at the foyer, where a tall wizard greeted Riddle from the marble staircase.

What are you doing, Tom? Why are you wandering around so late?

"It's Dumbledore!"

Ron stared in disbelief at the wizard. It was none other than Dumbledore, fifty years younger. It was a very strange feeling, as if they were on a time journey, the gray world seemingly the color of time itself, and they were going against the current, like thieves savoring sweets that didn't belong to them.

“I never imagined I would meet such a young Dumbledore,” Harry said, stunned. The Dumbledore of fifty years ago was very different from the Dumbledore of now; back then, he had flowing reddish-brown hair and a long beard, and his face did not look as old as it does now.

However, perhaps due to the gray filter of this memory, Harry felt that he looked a little too sad, as if he had just walked out of a wet rain.

He didn't know what sad things Dumbledore had gone through at that time, but the old man seemed to be disheartened, and what kept him alive was not hope, but rather punishment.

Cyrus, however, knew it very well.

Fifty years ago, at this time, Grindelwald was still living out their plans around the world, fulfilling the vows they made in their youth to stay together until death. But they have long since drifted apart. In a few years, people will be celebrating the day he loses his beloved.

In this respect, Harry and Dumbledore are quite similar.

Ginny, however, recalled the night she met Dumbledore, which seemed no different from the present moment. The only thing that remained unchanged about Dumbledore was his eyes, which could see right through people.

"I had to see the principal, sir," Riddle said.

"Alright, go to bed now." Dumbledore said, gazing at Riddle with that penetrating look Harry knew so well. "It's best not to wander around the corridors these days. Since you're already..."

He sighed heavily, said goodnight to Riddle, and strode away. Riddle watched him disappear from sight, then quickly walked up the stone steps leading to the underground classroom.

However, Riddle didn't lead them to a hidden passage or a secret tunnel, but instead to the underground classroom where Snape took Potions. The torches weren't lit, so as Riddle nearly closed the door, Harry could only see Riddle standing motionless in the doorway, staring out into the passage.