Chapter 48.5- Doom Days

“Okay, that’s enough. Harry, can you tell us why happened next— after you presumably lost consciousness?”

“I woke up in a graveyard.”

“Which graveyard?”

“How exactly am I supposed to know , Headmaster? I do know that I was tied to a grave belonging to a Tom Riddle, son of Thomas and Mary Riddle” I watched as Dumbledore nodded, like he expected this. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been predicting Voldemort’s return for like an eternity.

“Was that him, Headmaster? It couldn’t have been, could it? It said he was born in 1905. That wouldn’t make sense because he went to Hogwarts with Hagrid.” I said, playing dumb.

“Who? Who’s Tom Riddle, Harry?” Sirius asked.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle was a student who once walked these halls. Brighter than any other I have seen, save perhaps one” He gave me a significant look at that, and against my better reason, I actually found myself being flattered by what was clearly a transparent attempt to get in my good graces.

“He fell to the dark arts with an abandon few could match, and decades after his scholarship here, he returned to Britain with another name and a band of followers dedicated to obeying his every whim.”

“You-know-who?” Sirus caught on. Dumbledore nodded.

“Call him Voldemort, Sirius? Fear of a name—“

“Yeah, I’m not doing that, Dumbledore. You can call him whatever you want, but I still remember what those days were like in case you’ve forgotten. But you’re telling me you-know-whose name is Tom? Tom?” He chuckled, before breaking down into full blown laughter. He seemed to be having a good time at least— Sirius. I wondered how that would last once I told him Voldemort was back.

“To answer your question though, Harry. Tom was a Junior. He was the son of muggle Tom Riddle and a witch, Merope Gaunt. Maybe if you consent to returning to Hogwarts next year, we can explore his origins together.”

I gave him a flat look at the attempt at manipulation. Like really? That was the best he could come up with. To his credit, he at least blushed a bit.

“So what did you see in the Graveyard?”

“Not much. I’d barely done any looking around when he appeared.”

“In the flesh? He had a body?”

“A complete one. Not attached to the back of someone’s head or aa figment from a dairy or whatever. He had a body with arms and legs and magic…so much magic. It was unreal.” I said.

“Do you know how he regained the body?” There was a narrowing in the headmaster’s eyes now. Did he not believe me? Or was that just a sign that he was thinking things through within himself.

“I haven’t the slightest idea” I said. Maybe if I didn’t tell him my suspicions that he’d used my blood in his resurrection then he wouldn’t start scheming to get me killed by the man. That was a faint hope, but a least it was something.