...continuation
The Preceptor was waiting for me in a small chamber on the top of the middle tower. Ramana and Nero stayed downstairs and Teresiah led me up the spiral stairs, lit by the pale-blue light of the torches. Once more I was amazed how easily and self-confidently that blinded boy could move through the castle.
We reached the wooden door curved in some strange creatures, among which I could recognise snakes and spiders. Teresiah knocked three times and leafs of the door drew aside noiselessly. We entered inside.
The Preceptor was sitting on a high chair, stuffed with black velvet. His face and the whole figure sunk in a half-light, I could state however that the man was tall and rather thin. His bony hands were clasped on his knees and I saw a large, red signet on his finger.
'Wait here,' whispered Teresiah and, leaving me at the door, he approached the Preceptor and bowed with esteem.
I didn't hear even the slightest whisper but I was sure that Teresiah was relating something to his master, because he didn't take his eyes off his face and from time to time he nodded thoughtfully.
Finally Teresiah finished, bowed again, smiled to me and left the chamber, closing silently the door.
The Preceptor waved his wand and the bright, yellow light filled the room. And I gasped in bewilderment and was staring at the wizards with eyes big as plates. I knew him ! I knew that face !
In front of me Karl Friedriech Grindewald was sitting, the Minister of Magic in time when I started Hogwart.
'Welcome, Tom,' he said with a smile that covered his pale face with subtle wrinkles 'I've been waiting for you for a long time. As a matter of fact, since the day I had found your name in the Public Register.'
The Public Register ! In a split second I remembered a talk I had with Albus Dumbledore four years ago. He told me then that the information about my origin he had got in strict confidence from his best friend.
From the Minister of Magic.
Karl Friedriech Grindewald.
The Preceptor was observing me with an inscrutable smile.
'Old times,' he sighed 'They say this war is a Muggle business. Don't believe it, my lad. I was born and grown up in England, but my father was German. And in September 1939 everybody suddenly recollected that fact. Of course, no one has ever told me openly that they didn't want to see me in the minister chair any longer...but I remember how they started to treat me. Those furtive whispers, glances, that courteous, studied iciness. Further co-operation became impossible. Minister has to enjoy confidence and acceptance of the community and many people considered me almost a traitor. I had only one way out: to resign.'
I was listening to him fascinated, though the Minister's words were not the main reason. I was lost in admiration over how easily he had penetrated my thoughts and memories. Similar feeling used to come upon me sometimes when I was talking with Dumbledore, but I always explained it by his great sagacity and wisdom. But this time I knew it was something different. I remembered Ramana's words: "The Preceptor specialises in the magic of mind." I had no doubt that the man, sitting in front of me, could read in mind. And maybe not only he...?
Grindewald didn't take his eyes off me and the same subtle smile was still wandering on his thin lips.
'Yes, the magic of mind is a beautiful and extreme field of knowledge,' he said 'But only some few are worthy of studying it, those ones the most talented and persistent. I was lucky to be one of them. When I had finished Hogwart forty years ago, I got possibility of continuation my studies in the famous Academy Asrmentis. It was a great honour,' he added seriously 'Every years only ten new students were admitted. During five years I spent there only two English wizards appeared in the academy. I and Albus Dumbledore.'
'So he can also read in minds!' I exclaimed 'Now I understand...' I ceased talking abashed, realising I had interrupted the Preceptor.
Next time that evening I was cross with myself.
'I have to control myself,' I thought sternly 'I cannot behave like a crude kid.'
Preceptor's dark eyes were staring at me without a single wink. And suddenly, in a stroke of a dreadful understanding, I realised it didn't matter whether I would put something into words or not. He could see my every thought anyway. In a spilt second I understood with horror that nothing could be hidden from that man. My mind didn't belong to me any longer. He read in it like in an open book. He knew everything about me, whether I wanted him to do so or not. I felt as if I was standing in front of the Preceptor completely naked and completely helpless.
'A nasty feeling, isn't it?' said Grindewald quietly 'To realise that you were a subject of total surveillance. You feel as if in one moment you had lost your privacy, your individuality, your own "self".'
I felt very uncomfortable. Next time that evening I heard my own thoughts, said by the other man. But this time there was something in the wizard's soft voice that made me suppose that the Preceptor had passed through it himself. And that it wasn't a pleasant memory.
'Usually,' continued Grindewald 'the victim is not aware that has been exposed to the action of the mind magic. And this is the whole trick: to act unnoticeably and without leaving distinct traces. A bit like a burglar...' he added with a slight irony.
I shuddered when I heard a word "victim" in that context. It sounded alarmingly and ominously. The Preceptor looked at me thoughtfully.
'As any science, the magic of mind can be both a valuable gift and a dangerous weapon, especially in the wrong hands. And believe me,' he sighed heavily 'a temptation to use it to the ones own purpose is indeed intense...'
Every moment I felt more and more uncomfortable. Why was he telling me all those things? What is he driving at?
'Tom,' Preceptor's voice has changed its tone; now it was strong and imperious 'Tell me, what exactly happened in Hogwart this year.'
I was staring at him, not apprehending. In Hogwart ? Why did he ask me about it ? And suddenly I felt an icy prick of fear in my heart though I didn't know what I was really afraid of. It was totally irrational but I had a presentiment that I faced something horrible, something I would rather not to discover. But the Preceptor's voice didn't allow any resistance. Fighting the words that stuck in my dry throat, I told about the mysterious attacks, about Myrtle death, about the enormous spider and finally about my heroic clash with Hagrid.
All the time I feel Preceptor's burning gaze fixed on me. I had a feeling that those piercing eyes could see not only my every thought but also every nerve, every cell of my body.
An expression of a deep bitterness appeared on Grindewald's slim face.
'So this is truth,' he whispered gloomily. 'I didn't expect he would go so far...'
He looked at me and grief twinkled in his eyes.
'Tom, I know that it will be shocking for you to hear what I'm going to tell you. But you must know the truth. Teresiah van der Blinde is a Memor, it means he specialises in the magic of memory. When you met him in the inn, he investigated your mind and discovered, that somebody had change the structure of your memory. Your memories are not your real ones. You remember only what somebody wanted you to do.'
I was staring at him bewildered. I didn't believe my own ears. It couldn't be truth ! It was just impossible ! Who could do such a thing ?! Why ?! And how could I not be aware that my memory had been modified !
'It's impossible...', I whispered dully trying to convince myself; but a tiny part of my consciousness has already known that Preceptor's words, no matter how strangely they sounded, were true. And that it was exactly what I was scaring. 'Who...who did it?' I moaned.
The wizard smiled grimly.
'You still haven't guessed...' he said bitterly 'No wonder, this is a work of a great specialist. He always acts perfectly,' antipathy twinkled in Grindewald eyes. 'But now he met me. Watch out, Tom,' he pulled out his wand and pointed at me 'I will try to take back the modification. MEMORIA REGENERATIO!'
A wand tip flashed for a moment with a yellow light and then died out. I expected that something extraordinary would happen, that manipulation with the memory would be connected with some very realistic senses. But nothing changed.
'He failed...' I thought disappointed and looked at the Preceptor but, to my great surprise, he was smiling with satisfaction.
'It was easier than I had expected,' he said 'Obviously he didn't assume that anyone would notice modification. He didn't invent anything subtle.'
My heart beat harder. Carefully, as if venturing into the unknown lands, I recalled the beginning of June...
And I knew. I remembered everything: the Chamber of Secretes, Tanathos, Slytherin's inheritance. It was a night of June again; I have already stunned Hagrid. Then I saw my friend Amis, ghastly pale but determined to tell the truth. And finally I saw a man who slowly rose his wand and recited incantation. Amis fell down unconscious while the wizard looked at me. The last thing I remembered were blue, piercing eyes...
I knew who had modified my memory.
ALBUS DUMBLEDORE !!!
The man I trusted. The man I esteemed. The man who was for me a personification of uprightness, honour and wisdom. The man who saved my life.
And that very man treated me so treacherously and ruthlessly. I was crushed.
'Why has he done it?!' I asked desperately 'To protect Amis? But I would never do anything to hurt him. He is my best friend ! We are like brothers !'
The Preceptor's eyes twinkled, grim smile twisted his mouth.
'Oh, I'm sure dear Albus realised that perfectly well.' he said ironically 'And wasn't pleased with it at all. I'm afraid,' the irony vanished from his voice; now it sounded sympathetically 'it will be a long time before you see your friend again.'
Even if the Preceptor couldn't read in mind an expression of utmost bewilderment on my face spoke for itself.
'He is in the Academy of Magic in Salem and will stay there for the next three years,' he answered the unexpressed question 'And if I were you I wouldn't wait for his letter.' he could see my thought before I formulated them myself 'Dumbledore modified his memory, too.'
I couldn't believe my ears. I didn't want to believe it. The truth was too horrifying. How Dumbledore could deal with me this way ?! I tried desperately to find any excuse for him. He wanted to protect Amis...He has done it for him...
'Forget those illusions, Tom' Preceptor's voice was icy cold 'He was only anxious to prevent that whole story cast a shadow on the name: Dumbledore. For Albus reputation is more precious than anything else; more precious than friendship and truth. Believe me, Tom, that kind of people could be merciless for those, who dared to injure their good name.'
I was listening, thoroughly shocked. I realised that for all those years I haven't known real Albus Dumbledore but the man he pretended to be. Only that night of June he threw off the mask. And didn't want to leave any witness...
'That's not all yet,' continued Preceptor, clasping his fingers 'Modifying your memory Albus gained security that no one would ever connect the students' death with the Chamber of Secrets.'
'But why?' I couldn't understand 'I was the one who opened the Chamber. It was my fault that Myrtle died. When Dumbledore guessed the truth, it was...'
'He has known from the very beginning, Tom,' said Grindewald bitterly 'Albus always believed that the Chamber of Secrets existed. He read everything on that subject, it was like an obsession. He believed that the Chamber would give him might and power and that was what Albus had always desired most of all. He tried to find it already as a student in Hogwart, but he met and obstacle he couldn't overcome. He didn't know Parseltongue,' the wizard nodded thoughtfully 'Then he started his studies in the Arsmentis, after the work in the Ministry...but he has never stopped thinking about the Chamber of Secrets. When he had known from me that a new student, Tom Riddle, originated from the Slytherin's house, he decided to take advantage of it. He expected you to achieve what he had failed...and he was right. Though I think that even he hadn't anticipated you would deal with the task so quickly. And than... well, he must have felt responsible for what happened in Hogwart. He knew he made a mistake...and that is something that Dumbledore doesn't like to recognize. He decided it would be better if you forget about the Chamber of Secrets.'
I stood motionless. I felt growing cold in my inside. Dumbledore's words we ringing in my ears: 'Tom, it would be better you will know all at once. You are the heir of Salazar Slytherin.' I always believed he had told me that because he had though I should know the truth. But it was nothing more than first move of an experienced chess player...
Dumbledore used me ! Cheated me ! Has been cheating from the very beginning! How could I be mistaken so badly! How could I be so naive and trustful!
Preceptor was looking at me with sympathy.
'I know what you feel, Tom,' he said quietly 'We used to be friends once, Dumbledore and I. Best friends. But when I've been chosen the Minister of magic...' he sighed heavily 'Albus competed too and he has never forgiven me this defeat. Of course, he didn't betray his feelings. He hid the grudge deep in his heart and still pretended to be my good friend. But when the Muggle war started ...' bitter smiled appeared on Preceptor's lips 'It was him who, "by accident", put forward a question of my German origin. You know the rest...'
The silence fell. Each of us was pondering over own bitter thoughts. I felt betrayed and lonely as never before. And suddenly I longed for Elias Homer. My heart squeezed in black despair. I would give everything he could be with me. He would never let me down...
Preceptor looked at me sadly.
'The truth is often painful,' he said softly 'But even the worst truth is better than lie. And I'm glad I could tell you about it. I take it as a kind of compensation. You know...' he sighed 'In some sense I feel responsible for what befell you. I told Dumbledore who you were.' he stopped talking and fixed his eyes in the darkness outside the window 'Believe me, Tom, I reproached myself many times my own noble-mindedness,' continued Grindewald 'But then I though I couldn't act differently. He had right to know about you, because...'he breathed heavily as if bracing himself up before the final step' The Dumbledores also come from Slytherin. The last line. Little knows about it. Albus has never considered it as a honour.'
I was staring at him, astounded. It sounded impossible. It must have been impossible...but was it, really? After all, Amis was in Slytherin !
'Albus' only daughter was a very talented healer,' said Preceptor 'When she finished Hogwart, shed got a job in St. Mungo Hospital at once. Albus was proud of her. But she wanted to use her talent in a different way. She run away from home and settled in the Muggle village. They thought she was a doctor.'
I felt the ground gave way under my feet and the icy claws of fear and dread caught my throat. I have already known what I would hear next...
'She was your mother, Tom. Felicia Dumbledore-Riddle.'
*
I was standing on a small, round platform of the Schwarzberg castle west tower.
Moon hid behind the mountains, clouds came from the north and the night became
dark, starless. But still greater darkness prevailed in my soul. Darkness that
relentlessly devoured everything what had been beautiful and good in
there.
I clenched my fists. Well then, if the world is such for me, I will be the same for the world. The ones who made me suffer...they will regret. They will beg for my mercy. I will pay them back. All of them.
I felt a surge of hatred, rising in my heart. And I wanted to let it overcome me, I wanted to abandon myself in wrath, I wanted to trample and destroy, just like my whole world had been trampled and destroyed.
Albus Dumbledore deprived me from everything. Family, childhood, happiness. He made my mother die lonely and abandoned only because she dared oppose him. He made my, his grandson, his flesh and blood, grow up without love I have always desired so much.
And then, as if it was not enough, Albus Dumbledore ruined my faith in the people's kind heart and nobleness, leaving instead only bitterness and distrust. For all those years he had never had any interest for my life - until the day I received a letter from Hogwart. Only then he deigned to accept my existence; but the only reason was that he needed me. He wanted to open the Chamber of Secrets with my hands. And when it happened what had to happen, he didn't scruple to broke into my memory. He treated me like a useless object.
And finally Dumbledore deprived me from the brother before I even realised I had one.
I breathed deeply. I reminded Homer's words: "rage is a bad counsellor." I shouldn't act too hastily. I had time...a lot of time. The sweeter revenge is, the longer it matures.
Albus Dumbledore doesn't know what I'm preparing for him. And when he knows, he will regret he didn't finish himself earlier. I will show him what real pain means. I will show him what despair is.
Dear grandpa will be preying for death!
I HATE HIM
The Preceptor was waiting for me in a small chamber on the top of the middle tower. Ramana and Nero stayed downstairs and Teresiah led me up the spiral stairs, lit by the pale-blue light of the torches. Once more I was amazed how easily and self-confidently that blinded boy could move through the castle.
We reached the wooden door curved in some strange creatures, among which I could recognise snakes and spiders. Teresiah knocked three times and leafs of the door drew aside noiselessly. We entered inside.
The Preceptor was sitting on a high chair, stuffed with black velvet. His face and the whole figure sunk in a half-light, I could state however that the man was tall and rather thin. His bony hands were clasped on his knees and I saw a large, red signet on his finger.
'Wait here,' whispered Teresiah and, leaving me at the door, he approached the Preceptor and bowed with esteem.
I didn't hear even the slightest whisper but I was sure that Teresiah was relating something to his master, because he didn't take his eyes off his face and from time to time he nodded thoughtfully.
Finally Teresiah finished, bowed again, smiled to me and left the chamber, closing silently the door.
The Preceptor waved his wand and the bright, yellow light filled the room. And I gasped in bewilderment and was staring at the wizards with eyes big as plates. I knew him ! I knew that face !
In front of me Karl Friedriech Grindewald was sitting, the Minister of Magic in time when I started Hogwart.
'Welcome, Tom,' he said with a smile that covered his pale face with subtle wrinkles 'I've been waiting for you for a long time. As a matter of fact, since the day I had found your name in the Public Register.'
The Public Register ! In a split second I remembered a talk I had with Albus Dumbledore four years ago. He told me then that the information about my origin he had got in strict confidence from his best friend.
From the Minister of Magic.
Karl Friedriech Grindewald.
The Preceptor was observing me with an inscrutable smile.
'Old times,' he sighed 'They say this war is a Muggle business. Don't believe it, my lad. I was born and grown up in England, but my father was German. And in September 1939 everybody suddenly recollected that fact. Of course, no one has ever told me openly that they didn't want to see me in the minister chair any longer...but I remember how they started to treat me. Those furtive whispers, glances, that courteous, studied iciness. Further co-operation became impossible. Minister has to enjoy confidence and acceptance of the community and many people considered me almost a traitor. I had only one way out: to resign.'
I was listening to him fascinated, though the Minister's words were not the main reason. I was lost in admiration over how easily he had penetrated my thoughts and memories. Similar feeling used to come upon me sometimes when I was talking with Dumbledore, but I always explained it by his great sagacity and wisdom. But this time I knew it was something different. I remembered Ramana's words: "The Preceptor specialises in the magic of mind." I had no doubt that the man, sitting in front of me, could read in mind. And maybe not only he...?
Grindewald didn't take his eyes off me and the same subtle smile was still wandering on his thin lips.
'Yes, the magic of mind is a beautiful and extreme field of knowledge,' he said 'But only some few are worthy of studying it, those ones the most talented and persistent. I was lucky to be one of them. When I had finished Hogwart forty years ago, I got possibility of continuation my studies in the famous Academy Asrmentis. It was a great honour,' he added seriously 'Every years only ten new students were admitted. During five years I spent there only two English wizards appeared in the academy. I and Albus Dumbledore.'
'So he can also read in minds!' I exclaimed 'Now I understand...' I ceased talking abashed, realising I had interrupted the Preceptor.
Next time that evening I was cross with myself.
'I have to control myself,' I thought sternly 'I cannot behave like a crude kid.'
Preceptor's dark eyes were staring at me without a single wink. And suddenly, in a stroke of a dreadful understanding, I realised it didn't matter whether I would put something into words or not. He could see my every thought anyway. In a spilt second I understood with horror that nothing could be hidden from that man. My mind didn't belong to me any longer. He read in it like in an open book. He knew everything about me, whether I wanted him to do so or not. I felt as if I was standing in front of the Preceptor completely naked and completely helpless.
'A nasty feeling, isn't it?' said Grindewald quietly 'To realise that you were a subject of total surveillance. You feel as if in one moment you had lost your privacy, your individuality, your own "self".'
I felt very uncomfortable. Next time that evening I heard my own thoughts, said by the other man. But this time there was something in the wizard's soft voice that made me suppose that the Preceptor had passed through it himself. And that it wasn't a pleasant memory.
'Usually,' continued Grindewald 'the victim is not aware that has been exposed to the action of the mind magic. And this is the whole trick: to act unnoticeably and without leaving distinct traces. A bit like a burglar...' he added with a slight irony.
I shuddered when I heard a word "victim" in that context. It sounded alarmingly and ominously. The Preceptor looked at me thoughtfully.
'As any science, the magic of mind can be both a valuable gift and a dangerous weapon, especially in the wrong hands. And believe me,' he sighed heavily 'a temptation to use it to the ones own purpose is indeed intense...'
Every moment I felt more and more uncomfortable. Why was he telling me all those things? What is he driving at?
'Tom,' Preceptor's voice has changed its tone; now it was strong and imperious 'Tell me, what exactly happened in Hogwart this year.'
I was staring at him, not apprehending. In Hogwart ? Why did he ask me about it ? And suddenly I felt an icy prick of fear in my heart though I didn't know what I was really afraid of. It was totally irrational but I had a presentiment that I faced something horrible, something I would rather not to discover. But the Preceptor's voice didn't allow any resistance. Fighting the words that stuck in my dry throat, I told about the mysterious attacks, about Myrtle death, about the enormous spider and finally about my heroic clash with Hagrid.
All the time I feel Preceptor's burning gaze fixed on me. I had a feeling that those piercing eyes could see not only my every thought but also every nerve, every cell of my body.
An expression of a deep bitterness appeared on Grindewald's slim face.
'So this is truth,' he whispered gloomily. 'I didn't expect he would go so far...'
He looked at me and grief twinkled in his eyes.
'Tom, I know that it will be shocking for you to hear what I'm going to tell you. But you must know the truth. Teresiah van der Blinde is a Memor, it means he specialises in the magic of memory. When you met him in the inn, he investigated your mind and discovered, that somebody had change the structure of your memory. Your memories are not your real ones. You remember only what somebody wanted you to do.'
I was staring at him bewildered. I didn't believe my own ears. It couldn't be truth ! It was just impossible ! Who could do such a thing ?! Why ?! And how could I not be aware that my memory had been modified !
'It's impossible...', I whispered dully trying to convince myself; but a tiny part of my consciousness has already known that Preceptor's words, no matter how strangely they sounded, were true. And that it was exactly what I was scaring. 'Who...who did it?' I moaned.
The wizard smiled grimly.
'You still haven't guessed...' he said bitterly 'No wonder, this is a work of a great specialist. He always acts perfectly,' antipathy twinkled in Grindewald eyes. 'But now he met me. Watch out, Tom,' he pulled out his wand and pointed at me 'I will try to take back the modification. MEMORIA REGENERATIO!'
A wand tip flashed for a moment with a yellow light and then died out. I expected that something extraordinary would happen, that manipulation with the memory would be connected with some very realistic senses. But nothing changed.
'He failed...' I thought disappointed and looked at the Preceptor but, to my great surprise, he was smiling with satisfaction.
'It was easier than I had expected,' he said 'Obviously he didn't assume that anyone would notice modification. He didn't invent anything subtle.'
My heart beat harder. Carefully, as if venturing into the unknown lands, I recalled the beginning of June...
And I knew. I remembered everything: the Chamber of Secretes, Tanathos, Slytherin's inheritance. It was a night of June again; I have already stunned Hagrid. Then I saw my friend Amis, ghastly pale but determined to tell the truth. And finally I saw a man who slowly rose his wand and recited incantation. Amis fell down unconscious while the wizard looked at me. The last thing I remembered were blue, piercing eyes...
I knew who had modified my memory.
ALBUS DUMBLEDORE !!!
The man I trusted. The man I esteemed. The man who was for me a personification of uprightness, honour and wisdom. The man who saved my life.
And that very man treated me so treacherously and ruthlessly. I was crushed.
'Why has he done it?!' I asked desperately 'To protect Amis? But I would never do anything to hurt him. He is my best friend ! We are like brothers !'
The Preceptor's eyes twinkled, grim smile twisted his mouth.
'Oh, I'm sure dear Albus realised that perfectly well.' he said ironically 'And wasn't pleased with it at all. I'm afraid,' the irony vanished from his voice; now it sounded sympathetically 'it will be a long time before you see your friend again.'
Even if the Preceptor couldn't read in mind an expression of utmost bewilderment on my face spoke for itself.
'He is in the Academy of Magic in Salem and will stay there for the next three years,' he answered the unexpressed question 'And if I were you I wouldn't wait for his letter.' he could see my thought before I formulated them myself 'Dumbledore modified his memory, too.'
I couldn't believe my ears. I didn't want to believe it. The truth was too horrifying. How Dumbledore could deal with me this way ?! I tried desperately to find any excuse for him. He wanted to protect Amis...He has done it for him...
'Forget those illusions, Tom' Preceptor's voice was icy cold 'He was only anxious to prevent that whole story cast a shadow on the name: Dumbledore. For Albus reputation is more precious than anything else; more precious than friendship and truth. Believe me, Tom, that kind of people could be merciless for those, who dared to injure their good name.'
I was listening, thoroughly shocked. I realised that for all those years I haven't known real Albus Dumbledore but the man he pretended to be. Only that night of June he threw off the mask. And didn't want to leave any witness...
'That's not all yet,' continued Preceptor, clasping his fingers 'Modifying your memory Albus gained security that no one would ever connect the students' death with the Chamber of Secrets.'
'But why?' I couldn't understand 'I was the one who opened the Chamber. It was my fault that Myrtle died. When Dumbledore guessed the truth, it was...'
'He has known from the very beginning, Tom,' said Grindewald bitterly 'Albus always believed that the Chamber of Secrets existed. He read everything on that subject, it was like an obsession. He believed that the Chamber would give him might and power and that was what Albus had always desired most of all. He tried to find it already as a student in Hogwart, but he met and obstacle he couldn't overcome. He didn't know Parseltongue,' the wizard nodded thoughtfully 'Then he started his studies in the Arsmentis, after the work in the Ministry...but he has never stopped thinking about the Chamber of Secrets. When he had known from me that a new student, Tom Riddle, originated from the Slytherin's house, he decided to take advantage of it. He expected you to achieve what he had failed...and he was right. Though I think that even he hadn't anticipated you would deal with the task so quickly. And than... well, he must have felt responsible for what happened in Hogwart. He knew he made a mistake...and that is something that Dumbledore doesn't like to recognize. He decided it would be better if you forget about the Chamber of Secrets.'
I stood motionless. I felt growing cold in my inside. Dumbledore's words we ringing in my ears: 'Tom, it would be better you will know all at once. You are the heir of Salazar Slytherin.' I always believed he had told me that because he had though I should know the truth. But it was nothing more than first move of an experienced chess player...
Dumbledore used me ! Cheated me ! Has been cheating from the very beginning! How could I be mistaken so badly! How could I be so naive and trustful!
Preceptor was looking at me with sympathy.
'I know what you feel, Tom,' he said quietly 'We used to be friends once, Dumbledore and I. Best friends. But when I've been chosen the Minister of magic...' he sighed heavily 'Albus competed too and he has never forgiven me this defeat. Of course, he didn't betray his feelings. He hid the grudge deep in his heart and still pretended to be my good friend. But when the Muggle war started ...' bitter smiled appeared on Preceptor's lips 'It was him who, "by accident", put forward a question of my German origin. You know the rest...'
The silence fell. Each of us was pondering over own bitter thoughts. I felt betrayed and lonely as never before. And suddenly I longed for Elias Homer. My heart squeezed in black despair. I would give everything he could be with me. He would never let me down...
Preceptor looked at me sadly.
'The truth is often painful,' he said softly 'But even the worst truth is better than lie. And I'm glad I could tell you about it. I take it as a kind of compensation. You know...' he sighed 'In some sense I feel responsible for what befell you. I told Dumbledore who you were.' he stopped talking and fixed his eyes in the darkness outside the window 'Believe me, Tom, I reproached myself many times my own noble-mindedness,' continued Grindewald 'But then I though I couldn't act differently. He had right to know about you, because...'he breathed heavily as if bracing himself up before the final step' The Dumbledores also come from Slytherin. The last line. Little knows about it. Albus has never considered it as a honour.'
I was staring at him, astounded. It sounded impossible. It must have been impossible...but was it, really? After all, Amis was in Slytherin !
'Albus' only daughter was a very talented healer,' said Preceptor 'When she finished Hogwart, shed got a job in St. Mungo Hospital at once. Albus was proud of her. But she wanted to use her talent in a different way. She run away from home and settled in the Muggle village. They thought she was a doctor.'
I felt the ground gave way under my feet and the icy claws of fear and dread caught my throat. I have already known what I would hear next...
'She was your mother, Tom. Felicia Dumbledore-Riddle.'
I clenched my fists. Well then, if the world is such for me, I will be the same for the world. The ones who made me suffer...they will regret. They will beg for my mercy. I will pay them back. All of them.
I felt a surge of hatred, rising in my heart. And I wanted to let it overcome me, I wanted to abandon myself in wrath, I wanted to trample and destroy, just like my whole world had been trampled and destroyed.
Albus Dumbledore deprived me from everything. Family, childhood, happiness. He made my mother die lonely and abandoned only because she dared oppose him. He made my, his grandson, his flesh and blood, grow up without love I have always desired so much.
And then, as if it was not enough, Albus Dumbledore ruined my faith in the people's kind heart and nobleness, leaving instead only bitterness and distrust. For all those years he had never had any interest for my life - until the day I received a letter from Hogwart. Only then he deigned to accept my existence; but the only reason was that he needed me. He wanted to open the Chamber of Secrets with my hands. And when it happened what had to happen, he didn't scruple to broke into my memory. He treated me like a useless object.
And finally Dumbledore deprived me from the brother before I even realised I had one.
I breathed deeply. I reminded Homer's words: "rage is a bad counsellor." I shouldn't act too hastily. I had time...a lot of time. The sweeter revenge is, the longer it matures.
Albus Dumbledore doesn't know what I'm preparing for him. And when he knows, he will regret he didn't finish himself earlier. I will show him what real pain means. I will show him what despair is.
Dear grandpa will be preying for death!
I HATE HIM