"The most common lie is that which one lies to himself; lying to others is relatively an exception."

Friedrich Nietzsche

VII

Hermione arrived at Hogwarts using the Floo Network, emerging from the fireplace in the staff room. Professor McGonagall, awaiting her arrival, greeted her former pupil and led her through the familiar corridors of the castle. As she passed by the portraits, suits of armor, and classrooms that held memories of her time as a student, the young witch couldn't help but feel a wave of nostalgia. She wondered what changes had taken place since her graduation, and what aspects of the school remained the same.

Approaching the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office, Hermione quickened her pace. She muttered the password, "Fizzing Whizbee," and observed as the stone statue shifted, revealing a spiral staircase. Climbing the stairs, a mix of excitement and nervousness settled in her stomach. She was on her way to meet the new Headmaster, who had extended a special invitation to her. Hermione hoped that whatever the reason for the meeting was, it would bring good news.

Reaching the top, she knocked on the door. A gentle voice from within said, "Come in, Miss Granger." She opened the door and stepped inside, taking in the surroundings. The room exuded wisdom and serenity, with towering bookshelves filled with ancient tomes, portraits of previous headmasters adorning the walls, and a magnificent phoenix perched on a golden stand. Albus himself sat behind a large desk, surrounded by various instruments and devices. With long silver hair and beard, he wore half-moon spectacles. His blue eyes sparkled with both intelligence and a hint of mischief. He greeted her with a warm smile and gestured for her to take a seat.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," he said, offering her a jar of lemon drops. "Would you like a sweet?"

Politely declining, Hermione settled into a comfortable armchair. Nervousness coursed through her as she pondered how to begin. She knew the Headmaster was a busy and important man, and she didn't wish to waste his time. Yet, she also hoped he would lend an ear to her concerns.

"Thank you for seeing me, Professor," she said respectfully. "I understand you have many responsibilities, and I don't want to intrude, but I have something important to discuss with you."

Dumbledore nodded and reassured her, "Of course, Miss Granger, of course. You are not intruding at all. I always have time for my former students, especially for someone as clever and inquisitive as you. What is it that you wish to ask me?"

Hermione took a deep breath and addressed the professor, "Sir, do you have any knowledge about a former student named Tom Riddle?"

Albus's smile vanished, and his eyes grew dark. He regarded the witch with a serious and solemn expression, replying, "Tom Riddle? Yes, Miss Granger, I am indeed acquainted with him. More than I would prefer. Why do you inquire?"

A mix of fear and curiosity surged within Hermione as she explained, "Because, Professor, I believe I have encountered him. I believe I have seen him in a dream. It showed me dreadful things - things he did, things he planned, things he became."

Dumbledore's eyes widened, and he exclaimed, "A lucid dream? With Tom Riddle of all people? Miss Granger, are you certain? Are you absolutely certain?"

Hermione nodded resolutely, stating, "Yes, Professor, I am sure. I am certain it was him. He also resembled the man I encountered with his old diary."

With a wave of his wand, the Headmaster summoned a basin filled with shimmering silver liquid. It was a Pensieve, a vessel that held memories. The aged wizard skillfully extracted one of his own memories and invited Hermione to join him on a journey within.

"This is the first time I met Tom Riddle, at Wool's Orphanage," the old sorcerer began. "It was the summer of 1938, and I was sent by the school to offer him a place at Hogwarts. Observe and listen, Miss Granger, observe and listen."

He touched the liquid with his wand, and Hermione followed suit. A sensation of falling overcame her, and suddenly she found herself in a different place and time. She witnessed a young Dumbledore, with auburn hair and a beard, donned in a plum-colored suit. He stood before a dilapidated building bearing a sign that read "Wool's Orphanage." Albus knocked on the door and was met by a stern woman introducing herself as Mrs. Cole, the matron.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Cole," Dumbledore greeted politely. "I am here to see one of your children, Tom Riddle. I bring him very good news."

Mrs. Cole appeared suspicious, questioning, "Tom Riddle? What is your purpose with him? He is a peculiar boy, you see. Always causing trouble, always causing inexplicable occurrences. Occurrences that frighten the other children. And the staff as well."

Guiding him up a narrow staircase to the second floor, the matron pointed to a door labeled "Boys' Ward." She opened it and cautioned, "Tom is in there, the last room on the right. However, do not anticipate gratitude from him. He is cunning, always lying, stealing, and inflicting harm. He is unlike the others. He is different."

Mrs. Cole departed, leaving the wizard to traverse the corridor, passing rows of beds with thin blankets and worn pillows. Amidst the sounds of snoring, coughing, and whimpering, he reached the final room and knocked on the door. A cold, clear voice responded, "Enter."

Dumbledore opened the door and found a boy seated on a bed, engrossed in reading a book. The thin child possessed dark hair, pale skin, and cold, dark grayeyes. Upon spotting the man, he smiled and inquired, "Hello, sir. Who might you be? What is your purpose here?"

Returning the smile, the professor introduced himself, saying, "Hello, Mr. Riddle. I am Albus Dumbledore. I have come to inform you of something. You are a wizard. I am here to offer you a place at a school for young wizards and witches called Hogwarts."

Riddle laughed and retorted, "A wizard? A school for wizards? Well, you cannot deceive me, sir. I know what I am. I comprehend my capabilities. I can make things happen, things beyond your imagination. I can manipulate people, make them obey or suffer. I can communicate with snakes. Can you communicate with snakes?"

Albus nodded, responding, "No, Tom, I cannot speak to snakes. It is a rare ability known as Parseltongue. Yet, it is not your only gift. Magic encompasses far more than that."

Narrowing his eyes, Riddle challenged, "How can I trust that you speak the truth, sir? How can I be certain you are not deceiving me, like everyone else? How can I know you are not deranged, or a fraud, or a shrink?"

Dumbledore sighed and admitted, "I suppose you cannot, Mr. Riddle. But I can prove it to you, if you wish. I can demonstrate some magic here and now. Would you like to witness it?"

Tom nodded eagerly, stating, "Yes, sir, I would. Show me."

The professor pointed his wand at a cupboard in the corner of the room and declared, "Accio box."

The cupboard shook violently, causing a small wooden box to forcefully eject from it and land on the bed beside the boy. Startled, Tom gasped and exclaimed, "How did you make that happen?"

Dumbledore calmly replied, "That's a simple summoning spell. It allows you to bring objects to you with a flick of your wand. But that's not all. Watch this."

He aimed his wand at the cupboard once more and confidently stated, "Incendio."

In an instant, the cupboard erupted into flames, sending sparks and smoke billowing into the air. Taken aback, the boy jumped back and anxiously warned, "What are you doing? You're going to burn the place down!"

Assuringly, Albus replied, "Don't worry, I have control over it. I can extinguish the fire just as easily as I ignited it. See?"

He gracefully waved his wand and commanded, "Aguamenti."

A forceful jet of water shot out from his wand, promptly dousing the flames. While the cupboard remained charred and wet, no other damage was done. Riddle gazed in astonishment and marveled, "That's incredible. That's amazing. That's... magic."

With a warm smile, Dumbledore responded, "Yes, Tom, that's magic. And you possess that power too. You simply need to learn how to wield it, how to command it, how to master it. And that's precisely what Hogwarts can teach you."

The young wizard looked at the professor, then shifted his attention to the box resting on his bed. Intrigued, he reached for it and gingerly opened it. Inside, he discovered a silver ring, some broken toys, and two pounds and five pence. Instantly, he recognized them as the items he had stolen from the other children.

Claiming ownership, Tom declared, "This is mine. I took it. It belongs to me."

Correcting him, Albus gently stated, "No, Mr. Riddle, it's not yours. It belongs to someone else. Someone who misses it, who desires its return. You cannot keep it. Moreover, stealing is strictly forbidden at Hogwarts. Do you understand?"

Meeting Dumbledore's gaze, the boy responded, "Yes, sir, I understand. I apologize, sir. I won't do it again."

Still, his words were insincere. He didn't truly feel remorse. He didn't care about the other children or their belongings. He only cared about himself and what he possessed.

Grinning at the professor, he expressed his gratitude, "Thank you, sir. Thank you for showing me. I want to attend Hogwarts. I want to become a wizard. I want to learn magic. I want to achieve greatness."

Yet again, his words lacked genuineness. He didn't truly desire to merely learn or achieve greatness. He yearned to surpass all others, to become the most powerful.

Suddenly, Hermione felt a sensation of ascending, and just as swiftly, she found herself back in the present. Before her stood the aged Dumbledore, with his white hair and beard, still clutching the basin filled with shimmering silver liquid. The elderly wizard looked at her and shared, "That was the first encounter I had with Tom Riddle, Miss Granger."

Then, Albus waved his wand and conjured another memory. This time, the witch immediately recognized the location as the infamous haunted girls' bathroom within Hogwarts. It was a place known for a tragic event that had taken place there years ago. In the memory, a lifeless Ravenclaw student with long brown hair in pigtails and blue eyes lay motionless near the sinks. She wore a prefect badge on her chest and her name was Myrtle Warren, later known as Moaning Myrtle, the ghost that haunted the bathroom.

Hermione heard footsteps echoing through the chamber, grabbing her attention. It was a younger version of Dumbledore, accompanied by a teenage Tom Riddle. At that time, the professor was the Transfiguration teacher and Riddle was a prefect. Both of them had serious and grave expressions as they approached the girl's body.

Dumbledore asked the Slytherin student, "This is a terrible thing, Mr. Riddle. How did you discover her?"

Tom replied, "I was on my way to the library, sir, when I heard a scream. I rushed to the bathroom and found her lying there. She was already dead. There was nothing I could do."

The professor inquired, "Did you see anyone else? Anyone who might be responsible for this?"

Riddle shook his head and answered, "No, sir. The bathroom was empty, except for her and me."

Albus continued, "Do you have any idea what could have caused her death? Any clue at all?"

The Slytherin perfect responded, "No, sir, I don't."

Dumbledore then cautioned, "I understand, Tom. You are a bright and talented student, but curiosity can be dangerous. There are dark and evil things that are better left unknown, hidden for a reason. Some things should never be disturbed. Do you comprehend?"

Riddle assured him, "Yes, sir, I understand. But I have no knowledge of these dark and evil things." With a smirk, he asked, "Is there anything else you need from me, sir? Anything else I can do to help?"

The old wizard looked at him and replied, "No, Tom, there's nothing else. You may go now, back to your dormitory."

As the memory faded away, Hermione found herself in the Headmaster's office again. She gazed at the walls, where the painted faces of the former headmasters and headmistresses smiled or nodded at her. She noticed the rows of books and oddities that filled the shelves, each one holding a secret or a story. But her eyes were drawn to the phoenix that sat on a golden stand near the desk. It was a magnificent creature, with bright red and gold feathers that shimmered in the light. Its long tail trailed behind it, and its beak and claws were sharp and black. It looked at her with a wise and gentle expression, and she felt a surge of wonder and awe.

With a warm smile, Dumbledore approached her. "Please, have a seat."

Taking a deep breath, the witch settled into the armchair facing his desk. She knew the topic she was about to broach was risky, but she had to ask.

"Sir, I've been researching Tom Riddle, and I discovered that he was a student here in Slytherin House. He graduated in 1945 and then disappeared. Do you know what became of him after he left Hogwarts?" she whispered, lowering her voice.

Dumbledore sighed, leaning back and stroking his long beard as he fixed his piercing blue eyes on Hermione.

"I'm afraid I don't have much information, Miss Granger. He was an exceptional student, but also incredibly secretive and ambitious. He held a deep fascination with the dark arts and sought to acquire knowledge about them. After leaving Hogwarts, he took a position at Borgin and Burkes, a shop in Knockturn Alley known for selling dark and dangerous objects. He worked there for a few years before vanishing. No one knows where he went or what he did."

The young woman nodded, but her curiosity remained unsatisfied.

"Sir, do you have any idea why he left? Did he have a specific goal or purpose in mind?"

The headmaster hesitated, his expression guarded. "I'm sorry, Miss Granger, but I don't know what Tom Riddle was truly seeking. He was an enigmatic and elusive individual, adept at concealing his secrets."

The witch frowned, sensing that Dumbledore was withholding information. Deciding to be more direct, she pressed on.

"Sir, I believe he was searching for the Deathly Hallows," she stated.

Albus's eyebrows shot up, surprise and admiration evident in his gaze.

"The Deathly Hallows? What leads you to that conclusion, Miss Granger?"

Hermione retrieved a book from her bag and opened it to reveal a page displaying a symbol—a circle with a line and a triangle within it.

"This symbol, sir, represents the Deathly Hallows. It signifies three items: the stone, the cloak, and the wand. I stumbled upon this book, The Tales of Beedle the Bard, in the Potter's library. One of the stories within is The Tale of the Three Brothers. It narrates the origin of the Deathly Hallows, created by Death himself, and how he bestowed them upon three brothers who had managed to deceive him."

The witch glanced at Dumbledore, hoping for his confirmation of her theory.

"Sir, I believe Tom Riddle was fixated on attaining eternal life. He sought to become the Master of Death. I suspect he already possesses the stone and the cloak, and is now in pursuit of the wand. The last known possessor of the wand was Grindelwald, the dark wizard you defeated in 1945. He was imprisoned in Nurmengard, a high-security prison in Germany. However, he was discovered dead in his cell, just a week prior to the attack on the Potters. I believe Tom Riddle killed him and now has his sights set on you."

Hermione concluded her statement, awaiting the wizard's reaction. She anticipated shock, awe, or curiosity. Yet, he displayed none of these emotions. Instead, he remained calm, composed, and distant.

"Miss Granger, your intellect is remarkable. You have conducted extensive research and presented an intriguing hypothesis. Still, it remains merely a hypothesis. You lack proof, evidence, or solid facts. All you have is a book of fairy tales and a symbol that could hold various meanings. Your imagination has run wild, leading you to conclusions that lack support in reality. Tom Riddle is not the Master of Death. We cannot even be certain if he is alive."

Dumbledore spoke with unwavering authority, causing the witch to doubt herself. Perhaps she had erred. Maybe she had wasted her time and energy on a futile and foolish quest. Yet, an inkling persisted within her, suggesting there was more to the story. She sensed the Headmaster was withholding something, something he feared.

"Sir, are you absolutely sure? How can you be so certain of his demise?"

Albus paused, sighing as he glanced at the clock on his desk. His meeting with the Board of Counselors of the school was imminent. Deciding to conclude the conversation, he dismissed Hermione.

"Miss Granger, I appreciate your enthusiasm and interest. Yet, I must ask you to let go of this matter. It is not worth your time or attention. There are more pressing and urgent matters that demand your focus and effort. Please, do not squander your time on Tom Riddle. He is not deserving of it."

Dumbledore rose from his chair and walked around his desk, signaling for the witch to follow. He escorted her to the office door, opening it for her.

"Thank you for coming, Miss Granger. It was a pleasure conversing with you. Have a good day. Goodbye."

Hermione nodded and exited the office, feeling perplexed and disheartened. She had hoped that the Headmaster would lend his support or at least listen to her. Instead, he had dismissed her, along with her theory and evidence.