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HRHL# Chapter 149: Miss Malfoy Wants Me to Confess {3}
🕑 Added 2025-04-11 16:57:49 +0000 UTCAs he spoke, Professor Dumbledore shifted his body with a hint of weariness.
The past few days had utterly exhausted him, as he’d been tirelessly searching for traces of Tom and his mother.
“Really?” Harry hadn’t expected his guess to actually hit the mark. His eyes sparkled with a gleam that could only be described as gossip-fueled curiosity. “Could you tell me more about Tom’s mother? I’d really like to know.”
He genuinely wanted to understand what was going on.
“Tom’s mother came from the Gaunt family,” Professor Dumbledore said, rubbing his eyelids as he relayed the information he’d gathered to Harry. “Her name was Merope Gaunt, daughter of Marvolo Gaunt—whose name, of course, is the source of Tom’s middle name.”
“Merope was born with scant magical ability and endured the cold disdain of her family. She received no love at home and even suffered deep wounds at their hands.”
At this, Dumbledore paused.
Harry wasn’t surprised by this revelation. Being born with weak magic would earn anyone scorn in most wizarding families—let alone the Gaunts.
Harry suspected Dumbledore was even holding back some details. Given the Gaunt family’s inherently wicked nature, Merope Gaunt had almost certainly endured the Cruciatus Curse at home.
No, the Cruciatus Curse was probably just an appetizer for the Gaunts.
Beyond that, there must have been far more cold, relentless cruelty—the kind of family violence that truly breaks a person.
“The wealthy and handsome Muggle gentleman, Tom Riddle, often rode past the Gaunt residence on horseback. Merope, undistinguished as she was, found herself utterly captivated by his dashing charm,” Professor Dumbledore continued, his voice steady and measured. “But she knew her father and brother would fiercely oppose any connection with a Muggle—and that the arrogant, overbearing Tom would surely mock and despise her.”
“A young girl’s feelings can’t be hidden. When her brother Morfin Gaunt and her father Marvolo discovered Merope’s affection for Riddle, they felt deeply humiliated. Descendants of Salazar Slytherin, falling for a Muggle? That was something they could never accept. They’d rather break the law than let it stand, so they attacked Riddle to vent their fury.”
“Naturally, the Ministry of Magic arrested them. And during this time, desperate to secure that love, Merope selfishly used a love potion to make Riddle forget his original fiancée and fall for her instead. They married.”
“But Merope believed that a child would be her trump card, gambling that Tom might stay with her for the sake of their baby. So she revealed to him that she was a witch—and that she’d used a love potion to make him love her. Furious at being deceived, Tom abandoned her in a rage.”
“Pregnant and cast out, Merope gave birth to her son on a stormy, snow-swept night in a Muggle orphanage.” Professor Dumbledore sighed as he reached this part of the tale. “That’s the story of Tom—Voldemort’s mother.”
“What about Merope?” Harry asked, his voice tinged with concern. He was desperate to know the full truth—if only so he could taunt Voldemort with it the next time they met.
“Considering that even a witch with weak magic would rarely die in childbirth, I personally don’t believe that’s what killed her,” Professor Dumbledore mused after a moment’s thought. “I’m more inclined to think that, after being abandoned by Riddle, she lost the will to live. She didn’t want to raise the child, so she left him at the orphanage to fend for himself.”
Harry’s mouth slowly fell open.
Did he have some kind of prophetic gift?
Merlin’s beard, he swore that back in the basement, he’d just been making it up—pure improvisation to throw Voldemort off balance.
But to think that the nonsense he’d spouted… was actually true?
“What’s wrong?” Professor Dumbledore asked, his tone gentle with concern.
Harry shook his head and said, “I was just thinking about what I said to Voldemort back in the basement.”
“What did you say?” Dumbledore prompted.
Harry covered his face and muttered, “I said, ‘Voldemort, you’re just a pathetic nobody that no one loves. Your mum despised you so much she abandoned you and dumped you in an orphanage…’”
To be honest, Harry didn’t regret saying it. He just didn’t want Dumbledore to see the grin he couldn’t suppress.
Merlin’s beard, how glorious was it to shred Voldemort with words alone?
Harry felt that defeating Voldemort with spells wasn’t enough—he needed to crush him with taunts too, leaving him unable to lift his head for the rest of his miserable life.
Killing was boring. You had to strike at the heart!
Dumbledore’s expression grew peculiar.
Really, Harry?
Every word you say is like a dagger straight to Voldemort’s core.
As the saying goes, lies don’t hurt—truth is the sharpest blade.
Telling a happy, well-loved child “Your mum doesn’t love you” might not faze them—they’d shrug it off or insist their mum adored them.
But saying that to Voldemort? It’s a critical hit, a shattering blow, amplified by the brutal reality.
“You’re getting…” Dumbledore gave Harry an odd look before settling on a thumbs-up. “Quite eloquent.”
What else could he say?
Dumbledore knew about Harry’s years with the Dursleys. Outmatched physically, it made sense the boy had honed a sharp tongue as his weapon.
Though, in Dumbledore’s view, the Dursleys hardly warranted his intervention. His own childhood had been far wilder—complete with Christ-like wounds, holes pierced through both hands.
Back then, Hogwarts was a much rowdier place. Even in wizarding families of that era, corporal punishment was commonplace.
“Thank you, Professor,” Harry said, accepting the praise.
If you could call it praise. He didn’t really care either way.
“But…” Harry suddenly added, “I just remembered, Professor—last year, that notebook circulating in Slytherin. It seemed to be haunted by a spirit named ‘Merope.’”
“Merope?” Dumbledore’s heart jolted. He recalled what Snape had told him. “How much do you know about this notebook?”
“Miss Farley told me about it,” Harry answered honestly. “I didn’t know much at the time—just had a bad feeling. Now, looking back, this ‘Merope’ was probably Voldemort in disguise, using his mother’s name.”
“Looks like he still craves love,” Harry said with a sneer. “Pathetic, isn’t it? This unloved wretch using his mummy’s name as an alias…”
Did Harry feel any sympathy for Tom? Not in the slightest.
Not only did he feel no pity—he even wanted to laugh, relishing the irony.
“No, Harry, you’ve got one thing wrong,” Dumbledore said with a sigh. “Tom was conceived under a love potion. He was born emotionally stunted, incapable of understanding love.”
“No wonder he’s so rotten—no friends, nothing. Turns out the problem’s been there from the start,” Harry nodded repeatedly. “Honestly, Professor, you should’ve nipped this in the bud before it even began, instead of trying to fix it now.”
Before this, he’d thought Dumbledore’s teaching methods were to blame for Tom going astray and turning into the twisted, evil Voldemort.
But after hearing Dumbledore’s account, he realized—no matter who it was, even if the Four Founders themselves took turns educating Tom, they couldn’t have set him straight. The boy was born destined for darkness.
Dumbledore’s biggest mistake was not getting rid of Tom sooner.
In the magical sense, of course.
Professor Dumbledore glanced at Harry and said, “But that’s no reason for us to judge him with prejudice, Harry… Back then—”
“That’s where your indecision comes in,” Harry cut in with a cold laugh. “Look at the monster you’ve nurtured. A creature this inherently evil can’t be redeemed. Your choices have cost thousands of lives—look at the havoc he’s wreaked.”
Having spent over five years a century ago, Harry had seen too much.
He’d once had naïve, saintly notions—until reality shattered them completely.
He’d spared a dark wizard out of pity once, only for that same wizard to nearly kill him a year later.
If Cassandra hadn’t blocked that curse for him, he’d have gone to meet Merlin long ago.
Redemption?
Redeeming Tom was Merlin’s job. Harry’s job was to send him to Merlin!
“Looking at the results, you’re right,” Professor Dumbledore sighed. “But if it were you, I’m not sure you could’ve made that ruthless call.”
Harry thought to himself, Maybe I couldn’t—but Cassandra and Veratia definitely could.
“What about the Basilisk, Professor? Have you investigated it at the school?” Harry steered the conversation back on track. “Who at Hogwarts could possibly carry the Gaunt bloodline?”
Professor Dumbledore shook his head. “There’s no one. The Gaunt family has long since died out—no bloodline remains in the world…”
A brief silence fell between them.
“I just visited the Map Room, Professor,” Harry said again. “Professor Rookwood analyzed it and believes the one controlling the Basilisk must be a Hogwarts student.”
“Why’s that?” Dumbledore looked up.
“Because of your lockdown order,” Harry explained. “Right now, Hogwarts students can only move in groups of three to five within their dormitories, and they can barely leave the common rooms. I just saw Professor Snape guarding the Slytherin common room entrance—he’s really dedicated.”
“Severus is indeed a commendable professor,” Dumbledore said. “But… wait, I see it now!”
He froze, suddenly struck by a realization tied to what Snape had told him about the notebook.
“What’s wrong, Professor?” Harry asked, curious.
“The notebook,” Dumbledore said succinctly. “That notebook must still be at Hogwarts. Voldemort’s controlling a student, just like he did last year as ‘Merope.’ That explains it—someone without Gaunt blood could still command the Basilisk if they’re under Tom’s influence!”
“Makes sense,” Harry nodded. “So how do we find that notebook?”
“We’ll have to search,” Professor Dumbledore replied. “I think I’ll borrow some dark magic detection tools from the Ministry and check all four houses.”
“Do you think we’ll find it?” Harry asked tentatively.
“It’s better than doing nothing, Harry,” Dumbledore sighed, then added, “What about that monster—any leads?”
“I asked Professor Binns,” Harry said. “But he thinks it’s just a vague legend, not something real. His reasoning is that if the Chamber of Secrets truly existed, with so many headmasters over the years searching for it, someone would’ve found it by now.”
“And yet they haven’t,” Dumbledore said, the crescent lenses of his glasses glinting. “But recent events prove the Chamber must exist.”
“So besides finding the notebook, we need to locate that Chamber,” Harry said firmly. “We have to destroy the Basilisk lurking in Hogwarts. I don’t care if it was raised by Slytherin himself—it’s got to go!”
T/N: If you find any typos or incorrect names, please leave a comment. Thanks, and enjoy reading!
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